Page 17 of Royal Rising

The King’s Hat is a bar frequented by fishermen, so it’s normal for there to be the odd skirmish when they need to blow off steam. Actually, bar fights are pretty common, and when they’re sober, there’s an unspoken rule among the patrons not to touch Kalle.

After a good evening of drinking, that’s not always the case. Especially when Prince Kalle of Laandia takes it upon himself to break up a fight. I’ve seen him take a right hook to the eye andkeep standing only be dropped by a pool cue to the back and then getting his legs taken out from under him.

I’ve also seen him pick up a man and physically throw him out the door.

Kalle has the Erickson physique, and at six foot four and well over two hundred and twenty pounds, he can hold his own. Plus, there’s always Dillon and Chase to back him up. They don’t like to interfere unless it’s absolutely necessary because it would be too easy for them to seriously hurt someone.

Me, on the other hand…

“That’s enough,” I shout, heading into the melee, still in my dress and my high heels, lips just a little swollen from Mathias’s kisses. “Everyone—drop.”

No one listens, or they can’t hear me over the shouting and cheering, as well as the Dropkick Murphys blasting over the speakers about going out in style. The music gives the scene a surreal sensation, or maybe it’s me wading into a bar fight after enjoying a very nice dinner with a prince.

I pull Teddy Billings away from Danno McElving and give Micky Fish a shove in the chest to send him back against the pool table. Grabbing the still unbroken beer bottle from the table, I give someone a sharp elbow as I make my way over to Kalle, who holds Jubblie Mark in a version of a full nelson wrestler’s hold, with Mark’s arms over his head. Ken McKibbon still whacks his considerable belly with the pool triangle as Coy Schmidt cheers him on.

Kalle’s arms are thick with muscles, his T-shirt hiked up on one side to show an inch of skin.

I tell myself it’s not the sight of him like that that has me pausing for a quick moment. I’m just making sure he’s not hurt. “Boys!” I raise my voice so everyone in the place can hear. “That’s enough.”

Kalle turns to me. “Hey, how was your date?” he asks with a grin. His eyes have lost the angry cast from earlier.

He’senjoyinghimself.

“You need to let him go now,” I tell him, grabbing the pool rack as Ken tries to bring it down on Kalle’s shoulder. “Enough of this, Ken,” I bark. “Go home now. Tyler,” I call to the bartender hovering wide-eyed behind the bar. “Kill the music.”

He does and it’s surprising how quickly the ruckus dies down.

Or maybe it’s the sight of me standing in the middle of things. Because even as drunk as they get, those who frequent The King’s Hat would never lay a hand on a woman.

They’re good guys that way.

“Miss Edie,” Jubblie Mark gasps as Kalle tightens his grip just before he releases him. “I dinnae do nothin’ wrong?”

“Of course not, Mark, but it’s time to go home now. Are we finished here?” I ask Kalle.

“I had it under control.” And he laughs.

Usually, the sound of Kalle’s laughter lightens my heart but not now. “Everyone break it up or I’m sending Chase over,” I threaten.

“No, Dillon. I still have dishes to do,” Chase calls from the doorway of the kitchen.

The men—and one woman, Shirl Crow, who takes every opportunity she can to get into a fight, and to who the not-hitting-women rules don’t apply—back away, returning to their chairs and two-person high tables.

I pick up the broken chair. “Whose tab is this coming out of?” I call. “I told you—leave the furniture and the windows alone.”

“Mine.” Jubblie Mark hangs his head. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s twice in the past six months.” I shake my finger at him. “One more and I’m banning you and you’ll have to go to Sailor’s to drink.” Without waiting for a response, I turn away from him and head back to the bar with Kalle following me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mathias is aghast mouth open, eyes furious. “You could have been killed!”

Kalle laughs and slings an arm around my shoulders. “No one’s touching her,” he assures him, his familiarity for once feeling out of place and uncomfortable.

“Why, because you’ll protect her?” Mathias demands. “You were doing nothing of the sort.”

“Edie doesn’t need protecting,” Kalle says, pouring himself a pint.

My gaze flits to a framed picture on the wall. It’s too far for me to see the faces but I know where Kalle stands in the middle of the back row, with a huge grin and his arm around the guy beside him. With his skates on, he’s almost a head taller than anyone else on the team. It was the first year he played with the Laandia Junior Men’s hockey team, and they won it all.

---