Page 14 of Royal Rising

After the mouse incident a month or so ago—which might have actually been a rat, but I’m not telling Edie that—I left out some cat-friendly food to persuade a few of the strays to stop and eradicate whatever rodents were out there. Now there’s been no sign of anything but a skinny tabby that lurks even more than I am right now, waiting for his dinner of tuna and leftover fish pie.

It seems wrong to have the cat watching Edie kiss my cousin.

Or anyone at all.

Not that Edie kissing anyone is a problem for me. We’re not friends like that. We’refriends, nothing more.

I toss the bag of garbage before I think twice; broken glass tinkles as it lands with a softthud. The door to the kitchen shuts behind me before Edie can turn to check who it is.

Maybe she doesn’t care. Maybe she’s so into kissing him that she doesn’t even notice any ruckus.

Good for her.

My face twists into a scowl and that knot in my stomach gives a sharp yank to remind me there’s something about Edie and Mathias that I don’t like.

Like I need reminding.

“Did you get rid of the big bad with that bag of garbage?” Chase asks as I brush past him on the way back out to the bar area.

My security number two stands at the sink washing martini glasses and Chef’s good knives while Tyler, the regular dishwasher, helps out at the bar during the rush. Chase says doing the dishes relaxes him, and considering he used to work for the Directorate-General of France as one of their top spies, he’s due for a little relaxation.

He’s the best-paid dishwasher in all of Laandia, but it works for me since it lets Tyler learn more about manning the bar.

“There’s no one out there,” I lie.

“No? Are you sure? That was an aggressive toss.”

“I feel aggressive,” I growl.

“That’s never a good thing,” he calls after me.

It would be easier to deal with this mood if I were still playing sports. Baseball, hockey, even curling—I’ve done it all. And I wasn’t nearly as angry when I had something to focus on.

Not that I have an anger problem but things often irritate me.

Apparently, Edie kissing Mathias is one of those things.

The two families aren’t close. There were times in my childhood when Mom made an effort to pull Uncle Dante and his family into our orbit, but it’s difficult when it’s obvious they didn’t want to be a part of our orbit—theywantedour orbit.

They still want it all.

My uncle Dante has never forgiven my father for being the first-born son and not abdicating his role in the succession like Odin just did.

Dante has always wanted to be king and if he can’t have it, he wants his children to rule Laandia. And Odin stepping down makes it that much closer for him.

Because if I say no—which Dad, unlike other monarchies, has always given as an option for me—without Odin, the crown would go to Bo.

That would be a hard no. Bo would back out of that idea quicker than Edie jumped back into the kitchen that time when she saw that “mouse” by the garbage bins.

Gunnar would be next after Bo, and I… I don’t know what he would want. Six months ago, I would have said his response would be a bighell no, but now? He asked for a role in Dad’s advisory council. He’s planning on taking on an ambassadorship role when he and Stella go to Taiwan next month.

I don’t know what Gunnar would do if he had the option to become king. But if he says no, that leaves Lyra and…

Still lurking by the back door, I shake my head at the thought of my little sister as queen of Laandia. She’d do a bang-up job, but the drama…

This line of thought, as common as it’s become lately, does nothing to take my mind off what’s going on in the alley right now.

I brush past Chase and head back into the pub to find Fenella Carrington sitting at the bar, taking a sip of her French 75 cocktail, which means Tyler had to open a new bottle of prosecco.

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