Chapter 1
Spencer
“E
ight ball in the corner pocket,” I call, and obediently, the black ball rolls neatly into the pocket.
It’s the only sport where I’m almost certain to win against the princes of Laandia.
And I’m fine with that. My strengths lie in other areas, but growing up so close to the family, and celebrating their wins and successes, it’s kind of nice to be able to beat them at something.
“Another game?” Bo asks as he collects the balls.
I shake my head and gesture at the table across the room where Bo’s wife Hettie sits with Abigail. It had been double-date night at The King’s Hat before Gunnar—the youngest of the Laandian princes—and Stella, my half-sister—tracked us down.
I find now that the brothers are older, and all have girlfriends/fiancées/wives, date nights become group events. “I think we’ve given the girls enough time to talk about us.”
“How do you know they’re talking about us?”
I smile at my friend. Bo may be married and a father, but he still doesn’t have a clue about women. “What else do you think they talk about when we’re not around?”
“I don’t know. Clothes? Tema?” Bo’s smile at the mention of his daughter warms my heart.
His entire face lights up when he’s with her, like a happy Jack o’ lantern.
I shouldn’t be surprised about his lack of knowledge: Bo and Hettie might have married eight years ago, but the union lasted only days before Hettie left the country because of Bo’s grief and guilt over the death of his mother, Queen Selene.
Hettie only returned five months ago, with their eight-year-old daughter Tema in tow.
It was dicey for a bit, but the family, not to mention the whole country, is ecstatic that Bo and Hettie managed to get past the secrets and serious lack of communication because they are truly made for each other.
And Tema—I seriously think the little girl could overthrow the monarchy and take over Laandia if she put her mind to it, and I’m honestly not sure where my loyalty would fall.
“They talk about Tema when we’re there,” I throw over my shoulder as I head back to the table where the pitcher of beer waits for us, now half empty thanks to Gunnar.
Bo might be right; I have no idea if Hettie needs to share details about Bo with her best friend, Abigail, but I can pretty much guarantee Abigail has talked her ear off about me.
“We’re back.” I slide onto the stool between Abigail and Stella. It’s always a family affair when we come to The King’s Hat, with eldest brother, Prince Kalle owning the pub, and Hettie’s sister, Mabel, taking over the management from Kalle’s fiancée, Edie.
“Were you talking about us?” Bo demands as he sits, crowding in between Hettie and Abigail, his shoulders dwarfing them. The latest country hit begins and the table beside us decides to sing along.
“Of course we were,” Abigail tells him with a grin, and Bo looks confused.
“Don’t worry.” Hettie pats his hand. “I was just explaining our little plan to them.”
The little plan being giving Tema a little brother or sister.
Bo wants to be a daddy—again. A fact that I think is pretty amazing.
A fact that makes Abigail want to step up our relationship.
And… I’m not sure how I feel about that.
I love having Abigail back in town. The four of us were inseparable when we were younger, but that all ended after Abigail left town with Hettie. Now that they’re back, things have… developed with Abigail. Things that have me thinking of her as more than just a friend.
It’s so easy with Abigail. She’s amazing; nice, funny, smart. She’s a great friend.
She’s beautiful, too. I’m very attracted to her.
I stop reciting the reasons I want to be with Abigail and tune into the conversation.
“You haven’t even been married for six months,” Stella is saying, turning to Gunnar with an unmistakable expression of fear.
“Remarried,” I correct. Eight years ago, Abigail and I witnessed a secret ceremony between Bo and Hettie, and being one of the only people who knew Prince Bo was married weighed heavy on me. But I kept his secret, even though I didn’t agree with how he left/ended things with Hettie.
No one understood that. I’m just glad it’s all out in the open, and they are back together.
And happy.
It makes me wonder if there’s a happily ever after out there for me.
Abigail brushes my arm as she reaches for her glass and I smile down at her.
“We’ve missed a lot of time,” Hettie explains, her hand resting on Bo’s. “Speaking of which—” She glances over at him. “We should get back and check on our little princess.”
“Is Dad watching her again?” Gunnar asks with a chuckle.
The thought of the king of Laandia babysitting his granddaughter is amusing for all, even more so when you think about how Tema has him wrapped around her finger.
The girl could ask for anything—a pony, a crown, another country—and King Magnus would make it happen.
“It’s a group effort,” Bo says with a worried look since he’s well aware of how not only his father, but the entire castle staff, indulges his daughter.
Bo might be the worst of them all.
I know he’s trying to make up for the time he missed with Tema, so no one can blame him.
“I think they fight about who is in charge,” Bo adds. “Dad, Duncan, Mrs. Theissen…”
“Mrs. Theissen takes charge, for sure.” Abigail laughs.
“I think so too, but the king—”
“Dad,” Bo corrects Hettie with a half-smile. “He told you to call him Dad.”
“He’s my Lord and Sovereign King,” Hettie protests. “I’m not quite at the Dad phase yet.”
“King Daddy,” I suggest with a grin. Tema still occasionally refers to Bo as Prince Daddy, but she’s been dropping the prince more often these days, to Bo’s delight.
The man, whose favourite pastime used to be spending sixteen hours a day tromping through the forest with an axe slung over his shoulder, turns to mush when his little girl calls him Daddy.
It’s… sweet. And slightly terrifying.
“Magnus,” Hettie decides. “I can manage that. We’ll work on the Dad.”
“Let’s get back, see what the little terror did tonight.”
While it is possible Tema could get away with literal murder at the castle, the little girl is still a treat, and thankfully, hasn’t shown the signs of becoming the stereotypical spoiled brat.
There’s a lot of talk about if Tema will take after Lyra in that matter, just because Tema physically resembles her aunt at that age.
Lyra was a lot of things, but I never considered her to be a brat. She was impulsive, often demanding and definitely liked getting her own way, but she was never a brat to me.
She was a lot of things to me, but not that.
I tell myself that it’s the talk of Tema that has me sliding into thoughts of Lyra. Because of the similarities of the princesses, not the fact there’s been radio silence from Lyra for the last three weeks, which is worrying. It could mean a lot of things, though:
She could be off on an African safari without cell service. She could be holed up in a hotel in Paris, working as a muse for some fashion designer, or following Sabrina Carpenter’s latest tour, hobnobbing with her celebrity friends all night, and sleeping all day.
Or she could have run off with some man nobody would approve of and who only wants to use her for his fifteen minutes of fame, and she’s afraid to tell me.
Tell us, not just me. Tell the family.
When it comes to Lyra, it could be any of those things, and more.
Contact with her brothers has always been infrequent, but it’s constant with me, texting me daily or sending me silly reels or pictures. But that’s stopped since…
Since Abigail.
I tell myself I don’t miss getting sixteen pictures of shoes and demands to tell her which one is my favourite.
I’m worried because not hearing from Lyra might mean she’s about to show up on the cover of a magazine with a story about how she came between Tom Holland and Zendaya.
Or have drunken pictures of her splashed over the internet.
Or reports that she hosted a party that took over a high-end Toronto restaurant and caused the place to get slapped with a health warning because someone lured a raccoon into the party.
That actually happened last year. And I was sent to clean up the mess—not from the raccoon, but the media mess about how Princess Lyra of Laandia is a demanding diva whose rebellious and irresponsible behaviour made the Canadian government rethink giving Laandia their autonomy, as well as fishing rights.
I cleaned it all up.
My official job title is “lawyer”, but I’m more like a fixer for the family.
I deal with little things—Kalle’s alcohol permit for his bar, Odin’s proposal for his Viking restoration site—and big things, like Bo’s secret wedding.
Ever since my father brought me to live in the castle, I’ve been made to feel like part of the family.
Still, I manage to be objective enough to see the big picture, make the tough decisions.
My loyalty to them has no bounds—not just because they are the royal family, but because they’re my family.
But not really.
I fix things for the family, and I do a very good job of it. And Lyra is always giving me a new challenge.
I really should track her down to make sure things aren’t about to spiral out of control. “Can I get a ride back to the castle with you?” I ask Bo suddenly. I have a suite of rooms in the castle, but I divide my time between there and my apartment in town.
“You’re not—” Abigail checks herself but I can see the flash of disappointment. “Oh.”
Did I make plans with her? I don’t think I saw that in my schedule. “I’ve got an early meeting with the finance minister in the morning,” I tell her. “It’s easier to stay there tonight.”
“Okay. Sure.”
I notice Hettie watching us. I’m sure this will be part of their next discussion. I lower my voice. “Are you okay with that?”
“I just thought… It’s fine.”
I’ve dated. I’ve had relationships. But none of them has ever felt serious. None of them has ever felt like my future is there, waiting for me to grab it.
I’ve never fully committed to a woman like Bo has done with Hettie. Like Gunnar has with my sister. Something has always held me back, and I’ve never really explored what that is.
Abigail deserves someone to be committed. She deserves someone as invested as she is. And I’m…
To be honest, I don’t know if I’m that someone.
It’s been a while since she’s stayed the night at my place. She must be thinking of that, but I…
I can’t go there right now. Not with the upcoming meeting that I still need to be briefed on, and the plans for the new hotel opening that Fenella Carrington has gone overboard with that I also need to check, and tracking down Lyra.
I can only shrug. “Early meetings,” I say to Abigail with a rueful smile. “And you have the late shift at the coffee shop so you can sleep in. I don’t like to disturb you.”
“I’m okay being disturbed,” she says under her breath.
What’s wrong with me? “Tomorrow,” I promise. “We’ll do dinner, and then you can make me sit through an episode of The Suitor and I won’t complain at all.”
“Okay, but The Suitor isn’t starting for a few weeks,” she says, her smile not as bright as it usually is. “And it’s The Suitorette this time.”
“I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”
Abigail laughs and I relax. Things are so easy with her. “It’s less drama with a group of men. You’ll like that.”
“Sure.” I roll my eyes good-naturedly. “Sure, I will.”
Bo settles the bill and he and Hettie start the round of goodbyes. For a moment, I don’t think Abigail is going to leave—and she doesn’t have to. She can stay with Gunnar and Stella. She has other friends here tonight. She can—
My phone rings.
Not only my phone, but Bo’s and Gunnar’s ring in unison. And behind the bar, I see Kalle reach around to where his phone sticks out of the back pocket of his jeans.
Gunnar is the first to check. “It’s Odin,” he says, answering the group FaceTime call. Bo and I don’t bother with our phones, but crowd in beside him. “What’s up, O?”
“You have no idea what she did this time,” Odin rages.
She. It feels like a hand has reached inside my body to squeeze my stomach, like someone checking a melon at the market.
I don’t even have to ask Odin who she is because I know exactly whom he’s talking about.
It’s the tone of his voice.
Lyra.
Did she get arrested? Is she topless on a magazine cover? Been deported from some country because she “borrowed” a catamaran from some politician’s son when he was passed out on some island?
Did she get married?
Deep breaths help me deal with the stress of the unknown, but I can only manage a shaky one. “What did Lyra do this time?” I demand.
“She’s going to be the next Suitorette.”
She’s what?
This—this is not what I expected. Lyra likes to think she’s an influencer, so I can see her her going on a reality show, something like Daughters of Wealthy and Powerful Men and the Trouble They Get Into—if that was a real show—but The Suitorette?
Why is Lyra looking to fall in love? And on a reality show? She could have any man she wanted.
The stomach squeeze gets tighter. “Where did you get the info? Has it been confirmed?” Two very realistic questions, spoken in a calm voice. I’ve asked the same questions countless times for the entire royal family of Laandia, not just Lyra.
“I heard it from the horse’s mouth,” Odin blusters. “Grayson Grant.”
Abigail gasps and clutches Hettie at the mention of his name. Both of them look too excited for this conversation.
“He’s the host of the show, isn’t he?” Gunnar asks.
“And the executive producer,” Odin explains, uncharacteristically flustered. “Camille had the idea to offer the island as a location for the show, and they took us up on it. Shooting begins in three days and Grayson is staying with us at the house. He just told us. He thought we knew!”
“He thought you knew—?” Bo begins just as Kalle joins us.
“That Lyra is going to be on the show.” Odin’s voice is loud enough for heads to turn but no one turns down the volume. “She’s going to be the Suitorette. She’s going to star in a reality show, dating twenty-five men. At the same time.”
“Oh, hell no,” Kalle growls.
“We’ve got to stop her,” Bo agrees.
Gunnar is laughing, and they all turn to me. “Spence?” Odin pleads. “You’ve got to— She can’t do this?”
“Why can’t she?” Abigail asks.