Page 81 of The Last Strike

Abi looked up at her husband.

The second-born son.

The King.

Epilogue

ASHER

Asher walked through the wide hallways, taking his time, letting it sink in. His gaze swept over the ornate yet modern ceilings. Wainscot paneling ran the lengths of the walls. Large chandeliers hung from the ceilings. It was everything they’d dreamed it would be, and after almost three years of construction, their palace was complete.

They had moved in one week ago, but it still felt surreal.

Asher continued to his office, feeling at ease as he sat at the desk that had formerly belonged to his father. It was one of the few things they’d been able to salvage after Khalil’s attack on the former royal palace. That and King Martin’s glass clock—which, for as long as Asher could remember, had always sat on his desk.

As he sat at the desk now, though, he no longer felt like he was sitting at his father’s desk. It was his, and it would become his daughter’s next.

Asher looked to Jesse, who stood by his door as always.

“Are they back?” Asher asked.

“The helicopter has landed. They’ll be here soon,” he said with a nod.

Asher looked over his desk, his eyes landing on the paperwork that would officially change the succession to the throne. Tomorrow was Princess Charlotte’s second birthday and Asher’s gift to her was the documents on his desk. She was not the first-born son, but Asher cared little for those rules. Charlotte was spirited and willful and determined beyond reason, and when Asher placed his signature on these documents, she would be heir to the throne when she came of age—and any future first-born daughters would be able to inherit the throne after her.

A knock at the door stole his attention and William Bennett strode in. “Good afternoon,” he said joyfully.

“Afternoon,” Asher said, standing to shake his father-in-law’s hand. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

William chuckled. “We’re delivering Charlotte’s birthday present. Have you looked out your window in the past hour?”

“No,” Asher said, striding toward it. His eyes bulged. “Please tell me she is going to live in that,” he joked and William laughed heartily. He came to stand beside Asher.

“Now don’t be like that, Asher. She is a little angel.”

“She is a hellion,” Asher said, shaking his head as he smiled. “It is remarkable. How did you create a replica of the palace?”

William crossed his arms, leaning against the window frame like he was settling in for a long conversation. Asher didn’t mind; he loved these impromptu visits. William reminded him so much of his own father, and Asher understood why they would’ve been such good friends, and also why they would’ve clashed—because they were so alike.

“Well, we started looking at dollhouses for her, but they were all the same and I didn’t really take to any of them. I wanted to get her something special. So, I asked our friend Samuel if heknewof anyone to make a custom dollhouse,” William said with a grin. “I think that’s probably the strangest request Samuel has ever had. Anyway, he organized having this masterpiece made by a local cabinetmaker. The exterior is a replica of this palace, but the interior is different—a request of James Thomas’s, but a fair one, I suppose. So now our little Princess has her own palace,” he said with pride.

“Good. She can stop running mine,” Asher joked, eliciting another laugh from William.

Right on cue, he heard her scream.

Asher and William turned as Abi walked in, wrangling Charlotte in her arms.

“Daddy! Daddy!” she said with outstretched arms.

Asher strode forward, taking her from Abi. “Hello, Princess,” he said, kissing her soft cheeks.

She kissed his cheek in return.

“Hello, Papa!” she said, seeing William there.

“Hello, Angel,” he said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Were you good for your mom?”

Charlotte nodded eagerly. Asher looked to Abi, who shook her head with a raised eyebrow.

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