Chapter 5 #2
"Of course he is." Christian's tone was honey-sweet with poison. "But you know how people love to talk. Especially about princes who spend rather a lot of time in the company of... well." He gestured vaguely at the barn doors where Jakob had disappeared. "Someone so decidedly common."
"Since when do you care about my choice of friends?" Harald fought to keep his voice steady.
Christian's eyes softened with practiced concern. "Oh, Harald. I've always cared about you. About the family's reputation." He straightened Harald's tie with delicate fingers. "Which is why it pains me to see you being so... indiscreet."
The word hung between them like a blade.
"I don't know what you're implying," Harald managed, though his mouth had gone dry.
"Don't you?" Christian's smile was gentle now, almost pitying. "The lingering looks in class? The way you hang on his every word? Even the servants are starting to notice." He sighed. "What would your mother say?"
Harald jerked back as if slapped. "You wouldn't-"
"I don't have to say anything," Christian cut in smoothly. "As long as you can be sensible about this. After all, we're family. I only want what's best for you." His eyes hardened. "But really, Harald. A laundress's son? If you must take a boy as a playmate, you can do so much better."
With that, Christian turned away, leaving Harald alone with the taste of ash in his mouth.
The crystal wine glass trembled in his hand, and he set it down before he could shatter it.
Christian knew about him; about his feelings for Jakob.
He sucked in deep breaths, but still felt shaky and as if he couldn't quite breathe.
He needed air—and needed to find Jakob before Christian could do more damage.
When he reached the terrace doors, Harald paused, his hand hovering over the handle.
Through the glass, he could see three figures in the moonlight: Christian and Rachel, laughing together, and Jakob approaching them with thunderous purpose in his stride.
Harald hesitated, torn between intervention and discretion, then stepped back into the shadow of the doorframe as Jakob reached the pair.
Even through the glass, Harald could see Rachel's laughter die in her throat.
"Enjoying yourself?" Jakob's voice was muffled but audible, tight with controlled anger.
Harald pressed closer to the glass, the cold seeping through his gloves. He shouldn't be listening to this—shouldn't be witnessing what was clearly about to become a family argument—but something kept him frozen in place.
Rachel's chin lifted in a gesture Harald recognized from Jakob. "Actually, yes. Cadet Lieutenant Vasa has been a perfect gentleman."
"I'm sure he has." Jakob's response was barely audible through the doors, but Harald could see the way his eyes flicked to Christian.
Christian's smile was visible even in the moonlight as he bowed slightly to Rachel. "Of course." The words carried clearly as he moved closer to the doors. "I'll fetch us some champagne."
Harald shrank further back into the shadows as Christian passed Jakob. Whatever Christian murmured was too quiet to hear, but Harald saw Jakob's shoulders tense. Once Christian disappeared around the corner of the terrace, Rachel whirled on her brother with sudden fury.
"Don't start with me, Yasha. I'm in no mood—"
"What are you thinking?" Jakob hissed, his voice rising just enough for Harald to catch every word. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
Harald's stomach began to sink as he watched the siblings face off in the moonlight.
"I know exactly what I'm doing," Rachel shot back, her voice carrying clearly through the glass. "Why is it so hard to believe someone like him might actually enjoy my company?"
"Because I know him, Rachel. This isn't about you—it's about me. He's using you to get to me."
Rachel's laugh was harsh enough that Harald winced. "Not everything is about you, Jakob. Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, he finds me interesting? That I might be more than just your little sister?"
"Rachel—"
"No, you listen to me." She jabbed a finger at Jakob's chest, and Hal could see the fury radiating from her small frame. "You don't get to lecture me about getting too close to royalty. I see how you look at Prince Harald, how your eyes follow him everywhere. You think you're being subtle?"
Harald's breath caught, fogging the glass in front of his face. His heart hammered against his ribs as Jakob's face went pale in the moonlight.
"That's different—" Jakob started.
"Why? Because you're so much smarter than me? So much more mature?" Rachel's voice cracked slightly, and Harald could hear the pain beneath her anger. "I'm not a child anymore, Jakob. I know what I'm doing."
Harald's hands clenched at his sides as he watched Jakob's shoulders slump.
"Do you?" Jakob's voice softened, and Harald had to strain to hear him. "Because Christian... he doesn't just get bored, Rachel. He destroys things. For fun."
The words sent ice through Harald's veins. He knew Christian could be cruel, but hearing it laid out so starkly made his chest tighten.
"And you expect me to do what about that?
Break it off with him and stick to nice farm boys who smell like sheep?
" Rachel shook her head, her curls catching the moonlight.
"Maybe I want something more than that in my life.
Maybe I want to know what it feels like to dance with someone who makes me feel...
" She trailed off, her eyes distant. "Important.
Beautiful. Like I could be more than just a laundress's daughter. "
Harald's throat constricted. The longing in her voice was too familiar, too close to his own desperate need to be seen as more than just his title.
"Rachel..." Jakob reached for her, but she stepped back.
"Don't." Her chin lifted defiantly. "You don't get to be the only one who dreams bigger than their station, big brother."
Harald shifted slightly, and the movement must have caught the light.
Both siblings turned toward the doors, and he found himself frozen like a deer in headlights.
Jakob's eyes met his through the glass, and something unspoken passed between them—guilt, recognition, and a shared understanding of being caught.
Rachel noticed him too, her smile turning vicious. "Well, would you look at that. Excellent timing, Your Highness." She dropped into an exaggerated curtsy that was visible even through the glass. "I'll leave you with your prince, Jakob. At least one of us should get to play with royalty tonight."
Jakob's jaw tightened, and Harald could see the words forming on his lips even though he couldn't hear them through the glass: "Rachel—"
"Save it," she said, turning away. "Christian will be back with champagne soon. I'd hate to keep him waiting."
She swept past Harald with another curtsy, this one barely meeting the minimum requirements of protocol, and disappeared into the ballroom.
Jakob stood rigid, watching his sister vanish through the doors. His shoulders were tense, and Harald could see the muscle working in his jaw. After a long moment, he turned to face Harald.
"How much of that did you hear?" Jakob asked, his voice rough.
"Enough," Harald admitted. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"It doesn't matter," Jakob cut him off. He ran a hand through his hair, disrupting its careful styling. "She won't listen. And why should she? I'm hardly in a position to lecture anyone about knowing their place."
He looked out over the darkened gardens, his profile soft in the moonlight. "I should go back inside. Try to—"
"She won't welcome your interference," Harald said quietly. "Not tonight."
Jakob's laugh was bitter. "No. I suppose she won't."
They stood in silence for a moment, the muted strains of the orchestra drifting through the open doors.
Then Jakob turned to Harald, something resolute in his expression.
"Come on," he said. "I need to get away from here before I go in there and punch your cousin, and I suspect we both need a drink rather badly. "
Harald followed Jakob down off the terrace and across the wide, broad lawn of the school, his mind still caught on the raw hurt in Rachel's voice, the way Jakob had reached for her only to have her pull away.
The sounds of the ball faded with each step, replaced by crickets and the rustle of autumn leaves.
They cut across the forest on a well-worn path to the stables, stumbling in the dark.
His shirt caught on brambles, and he yanked it free with muttered curses.
The way Jakob had faced down his sister, trying to protect her even as she lashed out...
it had stirred something in Harald's chest. He recognized that fierce protectiveness, that desperate need to shield someone you loved from harm, even when they resented you for it.
How many times had his sister Sigrid done the same for him?
How many times had he wished Freddie still would?
Jakob stopped at a short, broad wooden building, its bulk a dark shadow against the star-filled sky.
Harald could hear the soft breath of the horses inside, as Jakob slipped the door open.
Inside, there was a small lamp casting shadows across the wooden post-and-beam architecture.
"Up here." He gestured to the wooden ladder that led into the hay loft.
Harald squinted at the rungs. The heat and noise had made his head swim, and the ladder looked less than completely stable - or was that the champagne? He gripped the first rung, testing its strength.
"Here, let me-" Jakob's hands pressed against Harald's back and hip, steadying him as he started to climb. The touch sent electricity through Harald's body, making him freeze mid-step.
Jakob jerked his hands away as if burned. "I- forgive me. I shouldn't have-"
"No, it's-" Harald's voice cracked. He cleared his throat, grateful for the darkness hiding his flushed face. "I mean, thank you. The help was... appreciated."