Chapter 13
“There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”
Professor Tolkien's words blurred before Hal's eyes as his mind drifted to Jakob for the hundredth time since morning.
The royal chamberlain's arrival at the Eliasberg farm yesterday had sent ice through his veins.
Eklund never left the palace except on the direct orders of the King or Queen, and Hal knew with sickening certainty that it wasn't his father who had sent for Jakob.
He'd spent the day in this alcove, unable to focus, jumping at every sound.
He'd reread The Hobbit in that time, coming again to the death of Thorin at the end, and had no idea what he'd do to keep himself from coming apart once he'd finished the book.
The electric wall sconce cast harsh shadows across the pages as he checked his pocket watch again.
A whole day since Jakob had been summoned. A whole day with no word.
The soft scuff of boots against the library's wooden floor made him look up sharply.
Jakob appeared at the entrance to the alcove, in his cadet uniform, though it hung on him differently now—as if the fabric itself had absorbed whatever weight now pressed on his shoulders.
His eyes, usually bright with challenge or mischief, looked hollowed out.
"Jakob," Hal whispered, relief and dread warring in his chest. He stood so quickly he knocked his book to the floor, forgotten.
"I'm so sorry." Jakob said, quietly. "I couldn't get away before now." He stepped into the alcove, glancing behind him to assure they were alone, before coming close to Hal. "Your mother," he said, voice flat. "She was waiting for me in the Commandant's office."
Hal felt the blood drain from his face. "My mother came here? In person?"
"She was sitting behind the Commandant's desk like she owned the place." Jakob's laugh held no humor. "Which I suppose she does, in a way."
"What did she want?" Hal asked, though the sinking feeling in his stomach told him he already knew.
Jakob moved to the window, keeping his back to Hal.
"She wanted me to go away. First, she offered me a position at the Soviet General Staff College in Moscow.
A 'distinguished opportunity' for someone of my 'background' and 'tactical acumen.
'" His fingers tightened on the windowsill.
"It would, of course, come with a generous financial settlement to make the move easier, and support for my mother and sister if they wished to join me. As long as we all left, immediately."
"Moscow?" Hal repeated, the word tasting like ash. "That's—that's exile."
"That was the point." Jakob turned, his composure cracking.
"It was exile, but it was also temptation.
She drew a picture of my mother back in silk dresses, speaking French at faculty dinners like she used to.
Rachel at university instead of scrubbing floors.
Our entire life restored to what we were before.
All I had to do to have that was to disappear from your life permanently. "
Hal's legs threatened to give way. He gripped the edge of the table to steady himself. "She can't do this. She has no authority—"
"And if I refused? She'd destroy us. My mother's job, gone.
Rachel's reputation ruined — whispers about the Jewish girl who compromised a prince.
No work, no home, probably thrown out of Sweden entirely.
" Jakob's voice shook. "For now, the Commandant and the Royal Family have made it clear that they wanted to keep what happened between Rachel and Christian quiet.
Your mother made it very clear that would change if I refused her 'generous offer. '"
"I'll speak to her," Hal said, anger rising hot in his chest. "I'll go to my father—"
"And say what?" Jakob stepped closer, his eyes fierce now. "That you want him to defend your male, Jewish lover from his wife's schemes? That you're choosing me over your duty to Sweden? Over the succession?"
"If I have to, yes!" Hal's hands clenched into fists.
"No." Jakob caught Hal's wrists, his grip gentle but firm. "Listen to me. If you confront her, you'll only confirm everything she suspects. She'll use it against you—against us both. She'll make sure we never see each other again."
Hal pulled back, heart hammering against his ribs.
"You can't possibly expect me to just give in to this.
Let her win." The words scraped his throat raw as he fought to keep his voice down.
He searched Jakob's face, looking for some sign that his world wasn't shattering.
"I can't lose you. I won't." His voice cracked.
"This might seem like just another game of strategy and tactics to her, but it's my life. Our lives."
"You won't lose me, I promise you that. I chose you. I chose us. What we are together," Jakob murmured, his hands sliding up to cup Hal's face. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Hal's. "We're smarter than she is. We just need to think like tacticians, not like scared boys."
When Jakob's lips found his, Hal melted into the contact, clinging to him with desperate hands.
The kiss was made of fear and determination, of promises made in the face of impossible odds.
Jakob's thumb traced Hal's face as they kissed, and for a moment, the world beyond their alcove ceased to exist—no queen, no academy, no war brewing across Europe.
Just the two of them, finding strength in each other.
Slowly, Hal's racing heart steadied against the solid warmth of Jakob's chest. His breathing calmed to match Jakob's, the panic receding like a tide pulling back from shore.
He could think again. The fog of terror lifted, and his mind—the mind that had always been his greatest asset—began to work once more, sorting through possibilities, weighing options, seeking a path forward that didn't end with either surrender or destruction.
"We need to play her game better than she does," Hal whispered against Jakob's lips, pulling back just enough to see the fierce intelligence in those blue eyes. Jakob nodded, his fingers still tangled in Hal's hair.
Jakob's jaw tightened. "I'll still enlist as planned.
Once the contract is signed, that's it. And at least one of us should follow through on our plans.
" His fingers worked at the cleaning cloth, twisting it into knots.
"It's the only way to get away from Christian's threats without bringing scandal to your family. "
"No." Hal grabbed Jakob's wrists, stilling the nervous movement.
"Jakob, you can't. It's so much more dangerous now.
Christian and my mother would have direct influence over your orders.
" The thought of Jakob being shipped to some remote outpost, or worse, made his stomach clench.
"They could bury you in the northern wastes or send you straight into harm's way if war comes. They could keep us apart."
"Then what?" Jakob's voice cracked. "We can't keep meeting in haylofts and armories. The risks are too high now."
Hal paced the length of the alcove, mind racing. Their carefully constructed plan had shattered, leaving them exposed. Every solution he'd considered since returning to the academy crumbled under scrutiny. "We need something else. Something they won't expect."
"The university maybe?" Jakob suggested, but his tone held little hope and less interest. "Though that keeps me just as vulnerable to their influence, and I don't really see myself as a scholar."
The sound of boots in the corridor made them both freeze. Hal moved to the shelves, pretending to inspect the books while Jakob resumed studying with mechanical precision. The footsteps passed without pausing.
"Whatever we do," Jakob said quietly, once the steps had faded, "we need to decide quickly. We don't have much time before they'll expect news of my decision."
The weight of what they were considering settled between them.
Hal stopped his pacing, turning to face the bookshelf so that Jakob wouldn't see the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
Hal's fingers traced the worn spine of the book in front of him.
Sir Richard Burton's "Memoirs of a Pilgrimage to Al-Medinah and Mekkah.
" Memories of another man who had told him stories of travel to far away places began to surface.
"Baron Mannerheim," Hal said suddenly, memories surfacing from childhood. "He visited us at Drottningholm when I was young. Before he fully committed to Finland's cause."
Jakob's eyes widened slightly. "You know him personally?"
"He used to tell me stories over breakfast." Hal's voice softened with the memory.
"About his expeditions through Central Asia, about the Silk Road and the deserts of Turkestan.
He always treated me like I could understand, even when I was too young to grasp half of what he said.
" His expression grew more focused. "The Finns are desperate for help, especially trained officers.
Mannerheim's been sending requests through diplomatic channels for weeks now. "
Jakob's hands stilled their relentless tapping on the table. "Finland?" His voice held a note Hal hadn't heard before – something between hope and calculation.
The pieces clicked together in Hal's mind.
"Mannerheim would welcome you – he doesn't suffer fools, but he knows the value of tactical minds like yours.
" He straightened, excitement building. "And even my mother's reach doesn't extend into Finnish command structure.
" The more he thought about it, the more he was sure that it would work. It was dangerous, but it would work.
But then he pictured Jakob in combat, facing down Soviet tanks in the Finnish winter, and his stomach clenched. "Though perhaps we should consider other options first. The diplomatic corps, maybe, or—"