Chapter 24
Randi
Randi had never expected that the most useful thing she’d learned at TimeOff would be penmanship. Not the neat, cursive writing drilled into her in school, but the far more valuable power of persuasion and the ability of shaping words into an emotional plea.
She sat at the long wooden table in the guest wing of Sven’s palace with her sleeves rolled up and her fingers smudged with ink.
She was surrounded by royal parchment while sunlight streamed through the tall windows.
The edges of the wax seals had only just begun to harden and the room smelled of melted resin.
Despite the quiet, there was a sense of urgency in the air.
Across from her, Bryn lounged back in her chair, one hand resting absently over her stomach as she watched with a mixture of curiosity and admiration.
“You’ve been at this for hours,” Bryn said at last and tilted her head at the growing stacks of letters. “How are your hands not completely useless by now?”
“Oh they are, but I’m almost done.” Randi flexed her fingers. “But if I stop, I lose the rhythm, and if I lose the rhythm, I start overthinking what I wrote.”
Bryn’s brow lifted slightly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I still say you could have just sent an email.”
Randi snorted. “This coming from the queen herself. Emails are okay, but handwritten letters are more personal and if I may say it, more royal. Besides, Sven said some provinces may not have reliable internet to get an email.”
“As many times as you started over because you changed a word, I would have given up and sent the email.”
Randi allowed herself a small smile as she glanced up.
“Sounding convincing without sounding desperate is a lot harder than it sounds. If I push too hard they’ll dismiss it as propaganda, and if I soften it too much they’ll ignore it completely.
Right now we really can’t afford either of those outcomes. ”
She picked up her draft letter that she used to copy from and reread the last line. It was too late to change them now with all the letters ready for delivery. But the words echoed in her head.
Noriveille does not ask for war. It asks for justice.
For a moment, she simply stared at the sentence. “That’s it. I’m done,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
The pile beside her had grown substantially. Each letter was addressed to a different neighboring province, especially the ones that Sven and Jakob had listed as directly affected by Gunner’s cruelty. They would stand to benefit the most if the throne changed hands, now that they had an option.
Now that Chance had returned.
Bryn leaned forward, her earlier ease giving way to something more thoughtful as she studied her sister. “Do you really think this will work?”
Randi met her gaze, and though there was a flicker of uncertainty deep down, what settled over her expression was something steadier and resolute. “I think it gives him a fighting chance,” she said, her voice calm but certain, “and I think he deserves that.”
Bryn’s expression softened and shifted into something more perceptive as she regarded her. “You’ve changed.”
Randi leaned back in her chair and exhaled slowly as she looked down at her fingers. “Yeah,” she admitted after a moment. “I guess I have.”
She paused and checked the seal on some of the envelopes. “I used to think the best thing I could do was stay out of the way. Just survive by keeping my head down and not making anything worse than it already was.” She let out a small laugh. “Turns out I’m actually kind of good at helping.”
Bryn’s lips curved upward immediately. “Kind of?”
Randi shrugged. “Okay, fine. I’m very good at helping.”
“That’s the sister I know.” Bryn pointed at her. “I’m actually pretty proud of you.”
“I just needed someone that needed help.” Randi’s tone was light but carried more weight than she let on.
She didn’t say his name, but she didn’t need to.
By the time the letters had been sealed and sent out with royal couriers, Chance and Sven had already departed to meet with Jakob, leaving behind a temporary quiet that felt almost unfamiliar after the rush of the morning.
Randi stood by the window with her arms loosely folded and stared at the mountains in the distance. “It feels strange,” she admitted after a moment.
Bryn adjusted the shawl around her shoulders as she moved to stand beside her. “What does?”
“Being useful. Not just in my world, but in this one too.”
Bryn laid her head on Randi’s shoulder. “You belong here more than you think.”
“I really want to believe that.”
A brief silence followed, and then, as if deliberately shaking off the heaviness of the moment, Bryn clapped her hands together with sudden brightness.
“Well, that’s enough serious talk for one day.”
Caught off guard, Randi just blinked at her sister. “That was random.”
“We’re going out.”
“Out?” Randi echoed.
“To the shops,” Bryn said, already turning toward the door with purpose. “I refuse to spend the rest of the day thinking about wars when I could be looking at tiny clothes and stuff that I actually have some control over.”
Randi laughed despite herself as she followed. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m pregnant,” Bryn shot back without missing a beat. “That means I get what I want.”
“Is that officially how it works?”
“Yes,” Bryn said firmly. “It is.”
Randi shook her head. “Okay, fine. Lead the way, Your Majesty.”
Bryn glanced back at her with a smirk. “Oh, just wait. You haven’t even seen the best part of that title yet.”
Two guards went with them and kept a discreet, yet close, distance. The moment they stepped into the shopping district, Randi realized exactly what she meant. The shift in attention was immediate and impossible to ignore.
People noticed their queen.
Heads turned as they passed, conversations faltered mid-sentence, and shopkeepers straightened as though they had been personally inspected by the crown itself. Their expressions shifted from mid-day boredom into eager attentiveness.
“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” one called and bowed deeply.
“It’s an honor,” another added quickly.
Randi leaned closer to Bryn as they walked, her voice low with amusement. “Do they always do that?”
“Always,” Bryn replied easily, though there was a hint of humor in her tone as well. “You get used to it.”
“I don’t think I would.”
“You would,” Bryn insisted. “Especially once you realize it comes with perks.”
They stepped into a baby shop, and within seconds Randi understood exactly what those perks were. The shopkeeper rushed forward so quickly she nearly stumbled in her eagerness.
“Your Majesty!” she exclaimed. “Please, anything you need, anything at all. Everything is at your disposal.”
Randi had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as Bryn, without missing a beat, slipped effortlessly into the role.
“Thank you,” Bryn said with practiced ease. “We’re just browsing.”
“Of course, of course!”
Almost instantly, they were surrounded by soft blankets, delicate fabrics, and impossibly small garments, all presented with an almost ceremonial level of care.
Randi picked up a pair of knitted booties and held them delicately between her fingers as she studied them. “These are ridiculously small.”
“I know,” Bryn replied as her hand drifted once more to her stomach. Her expression glowed with quiet warmth. “It’s hard to believe there’s a whole person in there.”
“You’re going to be an amazing mom.”
Bryn’s eyes flicked up and searched her face. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” Randi said without hesitation. “You were to me when I needed you, and you didn’t even have to be then.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke until Bryn yanked her into a massive hug.
Then Bryn tilted her head slightly. “So… are you going to tell me about him, or should I keep guessing?”
Randi groaned softly. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“That,” Bryn said, “is absolutely not true.”
Randi hesitated, then sighed. “I care about him,” she admitted.
“Mm-hmm.”
“More than I probably should.”
“Definitely.”
Randi shot her a look, though a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s going to be king,” Randi said simply, the weight of that truth settling between them. “And I have a life back in Tampa, a future I was building, something that’s mine. I can’t just give that up like it doesn’t matter.”
“And he can’t be part of that life?” Bryn asked gently.
Randi hesitated. “I don’t see how,” she admitted. “His place is here, and I’m not…” She gestured vaguely around them, at the shop, the people, the world that still felt only half hers. “This.”
Bryn studied her carefully before responding. “Being a queen isn’t a prison, you know.”
Randi let out a quiet, skeptical laugh. “It kind of looks like one from the outside.”
“It’s not,” Bryn said firmly. “It’s different, yes. There are expectations and responsibilities, but there are also freedoms, and influence, and the ability to actually change things in a way most people never get the chance to.”
Randi fell silent as she considered that.
“You wouldn’t lose yourself,” Bryn added. “Not unless you chose to.”
Randi looked down at the booties still in her hands. “I don’t even know who I’d be here,” she admitted.
“Maybe you get to decide that.”
Randi glanced up, caught off guard by the certainty in Bryn’s voice. For just a moment, the idea didn’t feel impossible, just something she hadn’t reached yet.
“Come on,” Bryn said suddenly, her brightness returning. “Let’s look at the blankets before I buy everything in here.”
Randi laughed. She set the booties down as she followed Bryn deeper into the shop.
For a while, they let themselves forget everything else and simply existed in that small, soft world of tiny clothes and shared laughter. They slipped easily into the rhythm of being sisters again.
Eventually, arms filled with far more than they had intended to buy, they made their way toward the exit, still talking and smiling.
Until Randi slowed.
Bryn nearly walked into her. “Don’t stop like that.”
Randi gestured with her head. “Those aren’t the guards.”
Men stood in the doorway. Not shopkeepers or guards, just strangers, positioned with deliberate precision. They blocked the exit in a way that was far too intentional to be coincidence.
Randi’s grip tightened instinctively around Bryn’s arm as her pulse quickened.
“Stay close,” she murmured under her breath, her voice low and steady in a way that surprised even her.
One of the men stepped forward and smiled, but there was nothing kind in it.
And just like that, the warmth of the afternoon vanished and was replaced by something sharp and dangerous that made it impossible to pretend that everything was fine.