Page 29 of Royal Secret

“Your grandmother had good taste,” I say, though what I really want to tell her is how much I admire this connection she has to her past, how it makes her even more intriguing to me.

She looks up from her camera, her smile soft and genuine. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Of course,” I respond, though the words seem inadequate for the gratitude I feel — that she’s here with me, that she’s letting me into her world, piece by precious piece.

I lean against the hood of the car, my gaze fixed on her as she moves through the field with an artist’s grace. The sunlight dances across her hair, creating a glow about her that makes it hard for me to look away. There’s a lightness in her step, an ease in her smile that I’ve come to cherish over these past days.

A laugh bubbles up from her direction, pure and infectious, and I find myself smiling even though she’s too far to see it. She’s different from anyone I’ve ever known — unaffected by the pomp and circumstance of my title, more interested in the stories etched into the landscape of Bergovia than in the gossip permeating its grand halls.

But as I watch her, a knot forms in my stomach. The joy of our shared moments is overshadowed by the weight of history, by a feud that our great grandparents started and that my parents continue. How could I ever explain to her that the burgeoning warmth in my chest feels like a betrayal?

“Hey, you have to see this!” she calls out, beckoning me over.

Her enthusiasm is contagious as I join her side, but the conflict within me grows. I don’t want this day to end, don’t want to return to a world where our names dictate who we should be.Yet, the reality of our situation looms over us, unspoken but ever-present.

“Beautiful,” I comment, looking at the scene she’s captured on her camera but secretly referring to her.

“Isn’t it just?” She looks up at me, eyes sparkling, unaware of the turmoil beneath my calm exterior.

In that moment, I make a decision. I will not let the shadows of the past darken our future, not when I have the power to create a new narrative. I pull out my phone, thumbing through my contacts until I find the number I need.

“Good morning,” I say into the phone. “I need a favor…”

Courtney’s questioning gaze meets mine, but I offer only a mischievous grin in response. “Trust me,” I tell her. “You’re going to love this.”

The call is brief — a few words, a promise to repay the favor — and then it’s done. An outing unlike any other awaits us, one that will take us soaring above the mountains and valleys of Bergovia. A hot-air-balloon ride at sunset, just the two of us, leaving the ground — and our family’s old grievances — far behind.

“Are you up for an adventure?” I ask her, heart racing with anticipation.

“For sure,” she replies, her hand grazing against mine.

I know it must be an accident — she didn’t mean to touch me — but I don’t draw away. Nor do I break my gaze from hers.

As she gazes back at me, I know that, whatever comes next, I want to face it with Courtney by my side. No matter what anyone else has to say about it.

CHAPTER 16

COURTNEY

The clink of porcelain and the soft hum of early conversations greet me as I push open the door to Café Viennois, the quaint little brunch spot Mimi suggested. Bergovia’s charm has not lost its allure, even after several days exploring its nooks and crannies, but Jakob’s absence casts a quiet shadow over the picturesque scenes. He’s been caught up in his work, leaving me with my own thoughts and the incessant ticking of the hotel-room clock.

Which is why I’m extra glad to be here, getting some time with my new friend who I haven’t seen in person since meeting her.

“Hey, Courtney!” Mimi waves from a corner table by the window, her bright smile slicing through my muddled reflections.

“Hi, Mimi,” I say, returning her grin as I slide into the chair across from her.

The waitress comes over, her apron dusted with flour, and we order two of the house specials — omelets stuffed with fresh local herbs and cheeses.

Once the waitress flits away, Mimi leans in, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “So, spill it. How has your vacation been? Did you fall in in love with Bergovia yet?”

I take a deep breath and pour myself some coffee from the carafe between us. “Promise me this stays between us?”

“Cross my heart.” She draws an X over her chest, and I believe her.

“Okay.” I fidget with the edge of the napkin, finding courage in the weave of the linen. “I met someone. His name is Jakob.”

“Ooh, tell me everything!” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper.

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