When I look up, Annemette is rushing toward me. She squeezes onto the window seat beside me and takes my hands. The color has drained from her face.
“Evie . . . I’m not encroaching, am I?” Worry furrows her brow. “You were searching for him that night . . . he was waiting for you at the palace last evening. He isn’t . . . ? You don’t . . . ?”
“I’m not in love with Nik, and he’s definitely not in love with me.” I’ve had to say this exact phrase many times, most recently to Malvina. “We’re just best friends.”
She breathes out a sigh, hands fluttering as she smooths her hair. “You seem so close, and I didn’t even question . . . you must think I’m horrible.”
“Not at all! Nik and I have been inseparable for years.” I struggle to make eye contact here, her closeness again overwhelming. “It’s a common mistake.”
Relief washes over her, and she sinks back against the window seat cushions. “Do you have someone, then? Someone who makes your heart beat so hard you think it’ll pound itself out?”
Iker’s face flashes in my memory, a wide smile reaching the ice of his eyes. I bite my lip. “I do—I did. I don’t know.” Annemette is staring at me for more, so I reluctantly go on. “You saw him—the other boy on the beach that night.” She nods in recognition. “Well, he’s Nik’s cousin, the crown prince of Rigeby Bay. But it doesn’t matter, Mette. He’s away at sea, and we have more pressing things to consider. Three days . . .”
“Oh, Evie, you’re such a good friend,” Annemette says, pulling me into an embrace.
Three days to fall in love. Three days to live. Three days until the ball every noble lady in the Øresund Kingdoms will attend. I shake my head. Finding true love is hard enough without the competition.
14
I DON’T KNOW HOW SHE ACTS SO CALM AS WE WALK down to meet Nik for breakfast. It must be the sea in her veins, flowing against the tide no matter what the weather. My entire body might as well be one giant bundle of nerves tied up in a sailor’s knot on her behalf, but Annemette walks out onto the sun-drenched balcony off the third-floor ballroom looking as enchanting and confident as anyone could, her blue dress casting her eyes a deep ocean hue and her butter-blond hair shining in the sun.
We blink into the bright light and are met with a spectacular view of the harbor. I know our corner of the sea so well, but it’s different from this angle, nearly the whole coast in sight. It’s an empowering view, to be able to see all that you rule over. The current is moving faster than usual for this time of year, and I turn my back, not wanting to dredge up old memories.
“Good morning, ladies. Won’t you have a seat?” Nik stands and pulls out the chair to his right. “Mette?”
Annemette blushes and takes the coveted place. I push my nerves down and greet him with a wink as he pulls out my chair. It’s then that I see he’s a bit red himself, that blush from last night back again at the sight of Annemette. Nik, the romantic. A good sign for sure.
True to his word of protecting Annemette from the evils of our seafaring diet, Nik asked the palace kitchens to avoid the traditional breakfast herring and traded up for summer sausage, sweet rolls dripping in fresh butter, and raspberries flush with dew. Served with it is black tea, hot and fragrant.
My stomach growls at the mere vision of all this food. It had been churning all morning, my anxiety getting the better of me. I am starving.
“Goodness, Evie. Do you have a tiger hidden in your bodice?” Nik laughs into the delicate china of his teacup.
“You know me, always smuggling wild animals to breakfast,” I joke.
“I’d expect nothing less from your dark magic.” Nik laughs again, and he has to put the cup back into the saucer to keep from spilling it over his shirt.
Meanwhile, Annemette can’t hide her surprise. She stares at me, confused. After all that fuss I made about how we must keep our magic a secret here, the crown prince, of all people, is laughing over it.
“Nik should know better than to spread dangerous rumors like that.” I gently elbow him. This is a game we play, Nik and I. Joking about the “magic” in my family—even if his joke is closer to the truth than he knows. “My tante, Hansa—”
“She turns men to toads and makes a soup out of them,” Nik says, brows shooting dramatically under his hair. Annemette laughs, which only encourages him. “It’s a great bit of luck you didn’t have her pea soup last night.”
Annemette’s lips drop open.
“It’s green for a reason.” I wink at her.
Nik and I burst into a fit of laughter, and it feels good to relax. His fingers scramble to touch the bare skin at her wrist. Maybe this will work.
“We kid, Mette,” Nik goes on. “Tante Hansa is a marvel of a medicine woman—she’s saved my father a few times when our own doctor failed, and I’ll never forget it. She’ll take great care of your chaperone—but she can’t turn men into toads.” Annemette nods, a quizzical grin pulling up against her pink cheeks. Nik lowers his voice, conspiracy thick in his tone as he turns his back on me. “Though I wouldn’t put it past the old bat to have curbed my cousin’s playboy ways so that he might fall for her niece.”
I elbow him again, this time quite hard, and both he and Annemette laugh. “If she has that magic, it’s certainly gone awry, considering he didn’t come for the festival,” I say.
“Surely that’s Iker’s mistake,” Nik says, snagging a sweet roll.
“I don’t make mistakes, Cousin.”
We glance up. Iker is standing in the threshold, his back propped casually against the doorframe. His skin is tan from days spent on deck in the high sun, making his hair seem more bleached than usual. He absentmindedly rubs at the scruff blurring the cut of his strong jaw, something I’m sure Queen Charlotte will insist he shave. I hope he declines.
My heart is beating in my throat as he looks over at me and our eyes meet. He grins.
Don’t smile. Don’t get up. He promised he’d return days ago. Stay strong.
I cave. A small smile creeps up on my lips and, in turn, his grin blooms larger. He strides over, and suddenly I’m afraid he’s going to kiss me right there in front of everyone. In front of Nik. He pauses before me and bends down, his fingers grazing my chin as his face moves closer to mine.
Please don’t.
Gods, I wish he would.
His lips land softly on my forehead. I breathe out a sigh, whether it’s relief or disappointment, I don’t know.
“Hello, Evelyn,” he says, standing upright again. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
Before I can say anything, he strides over to Nik, stealing the sweet roll straight out of his fingertips. “Hello, Cousin. Glad to see you’re looking so well,” he says, then takes a bite of the roll.
Nik stands, and the two embrace. “Mother has been in a royal tizzy over your tardiness—I hope you found that king whale you were looking for.”
“I wish,” Iker replies, frustration echoing in his voice. It’s unlike him not to get what he wants. “We chased him past the tip of the Jutland, but he’s a slippery bastard.”
“I suppose that’s why he’s named ‘king,’ Cousin.”
Iker grins and claps Nik on the shoulder. “We are a slippery lot, aren’t we? Always running to and from the call of duty.”
“And you are forever running late in both directions.”
“Nothing that can’t be fixed with a grand entrance and a daring story.”
I raise a brow. “That certainly is your life’s motto.” The words come out harder than I’d planned, and his smile stiffens in answer.
“I’d say it’s worked well for me so far.”
“You would,” Nik says. He’s now standing next to Annemette’s chair, his hand grazing her shoulder. “But let it be, Cousin. I’d like you to meet Friherrinde Annemette.”
Annemette stands and steps toward Iker. She holds out her hand like she’s done this hundreds of times before. He takes her fingers in his and kisses them. “Lovely to mee
t you, Annemette. I daresay I would’ve remembered such a gorgeous girl from my travels in the Øresund. Tell me, where did you wash up from?”
My heart in my throat, I meet Annemette’s eyes. He’s just being kind, I know he is, but still.
“Odense,” she says, clearly comfortable despite my heart flaring out my nostrils. “Evie and I met yesterday, and she agreed to show me around. Nik was game enough to join us.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” he replies. “I’d say yes in an instant.” Iker smiles at her, but there’s suspicion in his eyes. It’s just a flash, but it’s there—he doesn’t even try to hide it. Nik and I both notice it before his cultivated manners return and he bows at Annemette. “I’ve traveled everywhere, and there are no two prettier girls in all the world than on this balcony.”
Both Annemette and I immediately flush scarlet, the compliment the perfect Iker level of grandness. And, when I glance over, Nik is fiercely blushing too—his eyes have never left Annemette.
Iker’s attention spins across the three of us.
“What?” I ask.
Then he shakes his head. “The lot of you won’t survive your youth if you don’t learn to take a compliment or ask for what you want.”
Iker turns to Nik. “Cousin, clearly you can’t keep your eyes off the girl. Why don’t you ask the fine friherrinde to accompany you as you explore today’s festivities? I’m sure there is plenty to learn about her.”
Annemette turns to him, a lock of blond hair twisted around her finger. Nik lets out a nervous laugh.
Iker, not paying attention, goes on. “While you’re doing that, Evie and I can walk through the gardens.”
“Really?” I say. “Don’t you think you should ask me first?”
“Forgive me, Evelyn. Would you do me the honor?”
I should say no. After all, what is the point? In a day’s time, he’ll be dancing with half the komtesses invited to the ball, one of whom will surely become his bride. But I can’t help wanting what I want. I look up at Annemette, whose eyes are urging me to go. She needs this time too. Two magical creatures and two princes. I want to laugh. Maybe it’s time I stopped accepting what all of Havnestad has deemed appropriate for a girl like me and started acting like the girl they already think I am.
“It would be my pleasure, Iker,” I say, getting up from my chair.
Nik suddenly stands, looking very uncomfortable, ears turning red too. “Iker, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
Iker’s eyes brighten and then drop into the same suspicious glance he gave Annemette. He reads his cousin’s face and posture, clearly trying to discern if this is about him being alone with me or about Nik being alone with Annemette or something else altogether. His words from the ship ring in my ears: I don’t like to step on my cousin’s toes.
“I’m not going to defile the girl, cousin, we’re just going to have a kiss and catch up.” Nik practically scoffs, but Iker just smiles. “Nothing we haven’t done before.”
Nik’s eyes shoot to mine, and I know he knows. It doesn’t take much for him to picture all of it—to picture me kissing Iker like all the other girls he leaves in his wake.
I glance down—I wish it wasn’t like this. I just can’t take Nik looking so hurt.
Iker makes it a point to raise his brows at Annemette, everything in the move suggesting Nik take his girl and be fine with it. A hope I have as well. The girl only has three days. Iker’s arm slinks from my waist and hooks about my elbow. He leads me toward the door.
“Follow my lead, Cousin, but don’t follow my footsteps.”
The late morning light is blinding when we step out of the shadow of the castle and into the queen’s tulip garden. We blink ourselves down the stone path, stumbling a bit until our eyes adjust, arms and legs momentarily touching—whether by accident or on purpose, only Urda knows.
It’s sinking in. Iker is here.
He came back. And he immediately wanted to be with me.
All the disappointment and fears about what was keeping him seem to drain from my body. I try to push thoughts of Annemette to the side, too. Not everyone is your responsibility, Evie—Tante Hansa has told me this a thousand times. Annemette is alone with her prince, and I’m with mine.
After years of daydreams, my childhood fantasy is somehow now my reality: holding hands in a garden with Iker. Despite my status. Despite his. Despite the lives that are meant for us. A flash of heat runs up my neck, and my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Iker can never know how often I’ve thought of this.
But is this real? Am I stuck in dream? Or have I lost my mind completely, and Annemette is a figment of my imagination? Iker, too?
I wouldn’t think him real at all if his arm weren’t still slung about my waist, drawing me toward him, the two of us walking toward a stone bench beneath a shady oak.
Stop questioning, Evie.
Enjoy the spell while it lasts.
He smells of the sea. Of escape. And I want to be there with him, watching his skin go pink and then brown, whales in our sights and free wind in our hair. He turns to me, both hands about my waist now, face angled down toward mine. A smile curves at his lips as he reads my eyes.
“You were worried I wouldn’t come,” he says, and brushes a curl from my cheek.
I don’t deny it.
“I ran into a problem of sorts,” he says, eyes in the middle distance, voice softening. “I lost one of my men. The sea snatched him overboard in broad daylight after we docked in Kalø. Spent the rest of the day and much of the next searching.”
My breath catches. It’s awful, though not unexpected on a whaling expedition. The resolute set to Iker’s jaw mirrors that—disappointment but also acceptance. But then his gaze brightens and he goes on. “Eventually, we found him, floating unconscious between two rocks. Can you believe it? Barely breathing and beaten up, but alive. It was so strange, finding something you doubted could be possible.”
A teasing note then enters his voice. “Just like you shouldn’t have doubted me.”
“I didn’t doubt you. I doubted my expectations.”
Iker raises a brow and his eyes are on my mouth. “And what were your expectations?”
“That you wanted to be here as much as I wanted you to be here.”
At this, he draws me in until his chest touches my bodice and I can feel his legs through the layers of my dress.
“Don’t doubt this.”
He presses his mouth to mine, stealing my breath. He is gentle in that first moment, but then sweeps us down onto the bench.
The scent of salt and limes swirls about me as my heart begins to pound hard enough that I’m sure he can feel it through my bodice and his shirt.
His hands move to my face, thumbs sweeping the curve of my jaw. He holds me there for a second before gently pulling away.
“Proof enough, Evelyn.”
He says it as a statement, not a question, a sly little grin returning.
I purse my lips in thought. “Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve had a large enough sampling to be certain.”
Iker’s face breaks that sly little grin into something toothy and wolfish.
“I’m free for sampling all afternoon. Nothing princely planned until supper.” He forces his features into serious composure. “Will that be enough time, my lady?”
I lean in and dust a quick kiss onto his lips. “It’s certainly a start.”
FOUR YEARS BEFORE
The visitor stood on the dock, parents fussing behind him, weary from travel, though the journey hadn’t been far. Just across the Øresund Strait—a trip he could make with his eyes shut and in his own boat, if given the chance.
And he was planning to take that chance within the year, permission or not.
The day was clear, sun beating down, drying the wooden planks of the dock faster than the sea could make its mark, the waves angry the entire way from Rigeby Bay.
Footmen filed down from the castle, whisking away the visitor’s parents, trunks
, and duties, leaving him alone with the beach and his thoughts. At fourteen, those thoughts were mostly of girls.
Brunettes.
Blondes.
Redheads.
All of them swirling in his head despite what he knew to be true about his station—his mother and her metaphors constantly in his ear.
“Tulips wilt no matter their beauty; jewels of the crown shine forever.”
“Blood lasts longer than a whim.”
“The royal vase has room for but one flower, no matter the harvest.”
His feet led him to the sand, eyes snagging on two girls prancing along the beach, slim forms moving in time with a song that barely reached his ears.
A few yards more and the girls stopped, eyes and fingers pointed toward a sandbar, belly up in the swirling waters. That’s when he recognized them—two girls from the village, best friends always up for an adventure, just like he was, though he got the feeling the blonde was rather difficult to impress. Trailing behind them was a boy, his cousin. Another prince.
Then the girls began to remove their dresses, petticoats suddenly catching the sun’s rays in all their angelic white.
He couldn’t look away.
Not when they folded their dresses and laid them on the sand. Not when they sprinted into the waves. Not when he realized the current was as strong as it’d been in the strait, though he was too distracted by daydreams of their petticoats to warn them.
It was only moments later, when the prince dove in behind them, that the visitor was rudely awakened.
The visitor’s feet told him to run. To help. Neither girl had surfaced—it had been too long. He took five steps and halted. His father in his ear this time, another Øldenburg ruler in a land full of them.
“Do not be a hero, Iker; you are already a prince.”
His own kingdom needed him alive. If something were to happen to him, the future of his home and his family would be in danger. Yet still, another voice, his own, knocked around in his ears.
“But Nik . . .”
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