Chapter Three #2
So, when his father had promised that his focus on energy independence would “redeem his reputation,” Gustav had refrained from pointing out that his father’s PR machine at the palace could have headed off the problem of his tarnished name long ago—if the king had wanted it.
Instead, Gustav had bided his time. Maybe he would have charted a different course if his mother had let go of her own willingness to accept the scraps of restitution his father had doled out.
Gustav had done the work of getting investments for building out clean-energy infrastructure, staying quiet when the king took credit for Gustav’s successes, but his father had quietly cut the funding as soon as the PR coverage had waned.
Gustav had foreseen that tired twist of betrayal, and by that time, he had secured new funding to transform the thriving business into his own.
At this point, he might have abandoned all ties to the monarchy, but the country’s economic fate still hung on the choices—or whims—of their king.
Gustav felt far too much loyalty to his country to do it.
The current mountain of debt meant that he couldn’t leave its fate in his father’s hands.
So, he had waited again. Strategized. And after his mother’s passing, he began to look for an opening.
A weakness to exploit. An opportunity to uncover his family’s deception and excesses—and show himself as the royal who could be trusted to effectively gain control of the lavish spending and point resources toward something that benefitted the people. Even if he was the Bastard Spare.
His brother’s life was scheduled with military precision, even when his location was hidden.
This disappearance was unscripted. While Edvin was away, Gustav would take control of everything—the money, the power—and his father and brother would be forced to accede to his wishes.
Gustav had no interest in the crown itself.
He wanted to exact revenge on his father for the hell the king had made of Gustav’s life and the blithe irresponsibility that he had led the country into.
And his brother had stood by and let it happen.
He wanted both of them to be his puppets.
To be reminded every single day that their positions were reliant on Gustav’s decisions. Their lives were his.
And then there was Livia. Her involvement in this was both the hardest betrayal to stomach and also the ultimate reward. She would be his. He had given her the power to break his heart eight years ago. This time, he would hold all the power.
As Livia took the last step onto the stone walkway, her fingers brushed his.
Then her hand folded into his, startling him with an unwelcome rush of nostalgia.
Gustav glanced at her, but her expression revealed nothing, though her chin was lifted.
In defiance? Had she reached for his hand because she and Edvin held hands like this?
Suddenly Gustav was bombarded with an unsettling train of thought he had worked hard to excise since the moment those first photos had landed in the press.
Had his half brother kissed her? Had he done all the things Gustav had ached to do with her?
A wave of nausea hit him at the thought.
The soft touch of her hand was tilting his carefully constructed calm, and each new question triggered another wave of jealousy, that emotion he had been so determined to leave behind.
He reminded himself that she was no longer Edvin’s.
She was at his side now, and he would not let her go.
Gustav gritted his teeth and forced himself to let her hand free.
He opened the car door and helped her in.
Livia gave him an uncertain glance as she slipped into the black leather seat.
He walked to the other side and climbed in, closing the door.
The privacy screen closed, and they were alone.
As the cool air surrounded him, he found himself inescapably close to the woman he absolutely should not still want.
The woman who was promised to his half brother.
Still, desire swept through him, that hot, salty lick that should have dulled after all these years.
Gustav turned to study her, focusing on the changes he had been taking in with glances.
Now he had time to stare. The softness of her features had sharpened, her cheekbones more prominent and her lips fuller.
Back when they had escaped the confines of their schools for the darkness of the forest, she had worn her obligatory uniform, a white collared shirt with a blue vest and the tie with the school’s insignia.
Now he found himself drawn to what she chose to wear.
When she had opened the door to the apartment, she had been dressed in the loveliest green that made the flecks of green in her eyes shine.
But she had changed into a fitted dress with a demure neckline in a suitable navy blue, and her legs were crossed at the ankles.
The differences did…something inside him.
Something that was irrelevant to his plan, he reminded himself.
The only sign of any internal disquiet from her, any disconnect between past and present, was the way she fidgeted with her purse. She glanced over at him, and when she caught his gaze on her restless fingers, the fidgeting stopped.
“I am absolutely in the dark about the meeting with the king. Do you know what he wants to discuss?” she asked.
“I called the meeting,” he said.
“Oh.” She paused, then furrowed her brow. “Do you know where Edvin is?”
He held back the frown that tugged at his lips at the mention of Edvin and focused on what the question revealed. She didn’t know where his half brother was, either. Interesting.
“That is a question for my father,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Ah, yes. I’m sure I will get a straightforward answer from him,” she said dryly.
“You entered into this family willingly,” he said, his voice sharper. “You knew what you were getting into.”
Livia frowned and looked away. He still couldn’t shake the ache to kiss her.
His body begged to put aside the betrayal.
He reminded himself that she had lived among the overprivileged long enough to see that life doled out suffering to everyone.
For someone who claimed not to care about title or wealth, she had slotted herself into a life of luxury rather neatly.
With Edvin. Why had she done this? It went against everything she had stood for eight years ago.
The only way this made sense was if he had been completely mistaken about who she was back then.
In which case, he did not have to feel guilty about how his plans would affect her.
So, he turned and gazed out the window at the Baltic Sea.
It spread out beside them, dotted with islands surrounding the bay and the cliffs of the main island, all of the gray rock topped with pines, like bright jewels shining on their settings.
In front of them, the royal castle rose up over medieval walls.
It was built on a rocky outcrop that jutted into the sea, connected by a narrow peninsula that further narrowed in low tide.
Apparently the royal family had had a flair for drama and showmanship long before his father became king.
The car crossed the peninsula and delivered Gustav and Livia to the front of the castle, where an army of guards and servants bowed and murmured their greetings.
They gave no indication if they noted that it was not Edvin who had entered with Livia, though he supposed that the people who kept the house functioning were paid not to look twice at the inner workings of the royal family, let alone second-guess them.
A few of these people would have seen his father every time he had left the bedroom suite he’d shared with Queen Eleanor for Gustav’s mother’s bed, back when his mother was still officially employed at the castle.
Back when she was a pretty housekeeper who had attracted the attention of the king.
Had any of them heard the broken promises the king made his mother?
If they had, they had done nothing about it.
After all, they had sworn to protect the monarchy at all costs.
His father’s PA led them through the gilded halls, lined with candles and paintings, past ornate drawing rooms and useless sitting rooms. As a child, Gustav would have settled for a walk down these halls a few times per year, but the days of settling were over.
Now he would take everything of importance.
He didn’t want the castle or the crown. He wanted to strip the power that his father held and that his brother was set to inherit—and take it for his own.
As long as he controlled the crown’s finances, he was in charge.
At the end of a particularly long corridor, his father’s PA stopped in front of a pair of double doors.
She opened them, revealing an airy room that oozed centuries of leisure and luxury.
Everything, from the overstuffed baroque furniture to the sparkling brass lamps, was designed to be ornamental.
How fitting that his father sat in the middle of it.
King Fredrik of Isrikesland waited on a tall, stately chair, surrounded by stuffy paintings and heavy drapes.
He was not reading and was certainly not doing anything as gauche as scrolling on his phone.
Instead, Gustav’s father looked out the window onto the vast gardens of the palace.
He had chosen an armchair that made him look important and was likely designed for that purpose.