Chapter 17 One Rule
One Rule
MARC
Lines of pain bracket her mouth, and by the time we get back to Lindenholm, she’s gone silent.
It serves her right. I offered to carry her on my back.
I packed in the Seongan gummy candies she likes and an extra bottle of water which she refused.
I noticed she took Mikkel’s protein granola, though.
I identify a perverse satisfaction within myself, knowing she hated it.
I retreat to my office with Jang Mi, taking a call with her manager, making notes about the technical needs of an event of this scale.
I work from the outline Ella suggested long ago.
Festival accommodations, licensing rights, general ticketing, concessions, and facilities.
From time to time we pause our work, and Jang Mi shakes her head, muttering, “Aiiiiii,” a Seongan sound at the back of the throat that is half word, half bone-deep exasperation.
Afternoon shadows gather and a hard rain pelts the expensive roof of the old house.
Auden takes Jang Mi for a short tour, and I wander to the kitchen, passing Tom on my way, his Pennsylvania accent echoing down the hall.
He’s in the alcove where Dad used to store his hookah, Amma told me, and when Dad passed, she replaced the soft furnishings and got HAZMAT cleaners in.
“Don’t be a freaking jago—,” Tom cuts off and nods at me.
The Bluetooth earpiece is jammed in one ear, and he holds his phone in both hands, fingers tapping the screen.
“We gotta do a risk assessment. I’m not budging until we get it.
Yeah, I’ll call you. If you press that button, I’ll use your guts to hang my laundry.
No. No. Don’t be a moron. Monday morning, I’ll call you. ”
He taps his earbud but his fingers keep going. “Hey, Marc.”
“Are we keeping you from work?” My future brother-in-law is of average height, carries a little extra weight around his middle, and seems unconcerned by the retreat of his hairline. I’m not entirely sure what Alix sees in him.
Tom grins with the aura of a man who measures his home office for precise and transparent tax valuations. “I’m just happy to be here.”
“I could find you a real office,” I offer. “You can touch base before markets close.”
“Markets aren’t open on weekends,” he reminds me.
I shove my hands into my pockets and tap the wainscoting with the tip of my shoe. “That’s not how you guys treat it.”
Tom’s eyes narrow. He leans back, sets the phone down, and crosses his arms, seeing that I’m not quite shooting the breeze. “One of my biggest clients wanted to move his entire principle into crypto. I figured I should take the call.”
I nod an apology.
“Before I let her sign up for this, I told Alix my job was gonna drive her crazy,” he admits.
“Finance isn’t summer camp, but we made a deal.
When I work, I work. When I’m home, I’m home.
” He glances across the hall. Alix is organizing a watch party for Marathon Bride, a romcom about a distance runner who refuses to marry anyone who can’t beat her PR and the baker who supplies her with pre-race carbs.
I like their deal, but I think of Atlas, holding up his globe in the garden, bowing under the weight of it. “Can you put them in separate boxes?” I ask. It’s satisfying to think you can control everything by keeping things tidy.
“Nothing is that clean. I mean, I had to take this call tonight.” He swipes up the phone and starts tapping. I’m amused to see that he’s playing Creature Catching, a gentle little game built around running a farm. One of Alix’s favorites.
He flicks me a glance. “I’m competitive as hell, so when I tell you that nobody’s going to make Alix happier than I will, you can believe it.”
I lift an eyebrow. “You’re marrying a model/influencer you met in a hot tub. That doesn’t exactly scream casserole dinners and weekends at the lake.”
Tom’s head swings away with a smile. Like, Give me a break with this guy.
“I can make a casserole.” He watches Alix who is delivering a speech about where Marathon Bride fits into the cinematic legacy of iconic romcom pairings. “All that matters is I found my girl.”
I wish it were that simple.
I head back to the library and think about the mess this weekend has been.
What did I expect after kissing my best friend’s little sister?
Simplicity? Did I want her to throw herself into my arms and tell me that I was the only thing that mattered?
That she wanted to renegotiate her relationship to the spreadsheet?
When I inhale, it hurts right up under my jaw and down my throat.
“We have to get this nailed down before I fly out,” Jang Mi says, standing in the doorway of the library. Her eyes shift past me. “Hello, Ella. Are you going?” Her English is as formal as a textbook.
I watch Ella’s progress, eyes trained on the ankle. My housekeeper brought her ice and a stool when she got back from the hike, and now the limp is barely noticeable. She swings a weekend bag in her hands.
“Are you leaving?” I ask.
“Clara needs me to fill in for an engagement tomorrow.” She flashes a brief smile, and shows me a text screen full of prayer hands and crying emojis.
I spot her tells: the toe of her trainers kicking against the tile floor, the proof already in hand. Who marshals answers to questions I haven’t asked? A liar. That’s who.
“I don’t like the idea of you driving through this weather,” I say.
“Thor will be in the car ahead of me and we’ll be in constant contact. I know my way blindfolded.” She turns to Jang Mi. “How goes the planning?”
Jang Mi tucks Ella’s hand into the crook of her elbow and urges her into the library. “We talked of much… Much. Let me say how much.”
Ella listens and offers a few sensible suggestions.
“The launch, though,” Jang Mi concludes. “I worry. We have a few months, I want fans to know, but marketing?” She lifts her hands, a gesture that indicates that we are completely at sea.
“You could start by giving your Pixy followers a clue,” Ella replies. She crosses the room and flicks a switch, turning on the spot lights illuminating a display case built into one of the shelves. Jang Mi squeaks but I grin.
There are two van Heyden family tiaras. One is a heavy, diamond-encrusted garland of scrolls and lover’s knots.
We keep it in a bank vault in Handsel, and it is passed down to each neerheid for their wives.
It’s full of history and tradition, but it’s also induced countless migraines for two hundred years.
It’s currently being cleaned for Alix’s wedding.
And then there’s this one.
“The Dandelion Tiara,” I say, glancing at Ella, seeing her plan before she even speaks it aloud. “Posting about it would get people thinking about Seong and Sondmark together.”
Jang Mi leans over the heavy glass, inspecting the dandelion motif. “The diamonds are tiny,” she says.
Ella leans with her. “No diamonds. No gems at all.”
Jang Mi looks at me. “But it sparkles.”
“My father had it made when he married my mother,” I say. It was almost the only romantic gesture he ever made. “The material is cut steel. Gold-plated and incredibly light.”
“There are dandelions for Seong,” Jang Mi smiles. “It would look very good on the princess’s head.”
Images of the Dandelion Tiara perched on bright curls flood my mind. At Ragnar banquets, state dinners, at my dinners, in the tub, around the house…
Ella’s cheeks burn red, and she waves her hands at the thick security glass the way you would wave off a charging stag. “I don’t dream about tiaras. The less I have to do with them the better.”
Jang Mi shifts to Seongan. “How are you going to talk her into owning this one, Marcus-shi?” she murmurs. I grip the back of my neck, fighting the urge to push her out the door and lock it.
“That’s not on the table,” I reply.
Ella waits for a translation but Jang Mi reverts to English. “You suggest a photo?”
Ella nods. “Your fans will do a reverse image search, which will lead them to Vrouwheid van Heyden and Lindenholm. If you’d like to wear it, I can help you put it on.”
Some visceral reaction threatens to break through my neutral expression. No. No one else wears it.
Jang Mi glances up at me, cutting Ella out with Seongan. “Look at her face, Marcus-shi. So much control, but she is upset by the idea. You could—”
“It’s too complicated.” It is. The risk is high and I stand to lose too much. This friendship kept my head above water this year. It kept me sane.
Clearing my throat, I shift from Seongan to English. “Jang Mi says she couldn’t possibly wear it.”
Jang Mi sighs, tucking her hand into Ella’s. “The dating scandal would…” Her free hand performs an explosion. “So annoying. I do not know where it came from.”
“You did volunteer work with my team,” I say. “If I had known the fuss it would cause—”
She ignores me to train her attention on Ella. “Marcus and I are friendly, yes? But no.” She shakes her head at me like I’m gross. No need to be so emphatic.
Jang Mi produces a sunny smile. “We take a picture and I will tell my agency to deny the rumors.”
I toss Ella the keys to the case when my phone buzzes. “It’s Noah. The crown prince,” I add for Jang Mi’s benefit. “I have to take the call.”
Jang Mi laughs. Seongan again. “Set me up on a date with that spicy rice cake if you really want to make me happy about interrupting our tour.”
“That’s a dating scandal you want to avoid,” I say, crossing to the other end of the room. “Hey, Noah. What is it?”
“The Handsel Dragons are playing the Djolny Resistance this Wednesday. I need you there.”
I watch Ella remove the tiara from the case, holding it carefully in her hands. I hardly breathe as Jang Mi directs her about lighting and angles. “Is it box seats and blue blazers?” I ask.
“Definitely not. I need it to look like a casual outing.”
Look like. There’s always a royal angle. When Noah plays the game, I’m his right-hand man.
“What’s up?”
“I’m bringing Freja’s husband Oskar and Clara’s boyfriend Max—”
“The national hero?”
“That’s the one. Crown Prince Jacob will be there, too.”
“From Vorburg? Is this diplomacy?”
“No. Has Ella said anything about what’s going on with Alma and him?”
Ella hasn’t been telling me nearly enough. “I’ve seen the gossip about them in the papers. I hear the overheated prayers of half the country hoping they’ll get together. Is your mother really going to press for a match?”
A pause. “It’s not my mother and it’s not gossip. Alma created this problem all on her own.”
My gaze lifts to Ella and I parse out the implications at once. The queen is in a tight spot. If her other daughters can’t be counted on to carry on the family tradition of loveless, strategically beneficial marriages, her pawns have been whittled down to Noah and Ella.
Stultes es.
“My mother wants them to go public all at once,” Noah continues. “She thinks it’ll help to rip the bandaid off until someone produces a grandbaby and the topic changes.”
“Won’t I be a distraction?”
“You’re not in love with one of my sisters, are you?” He answers his own question. “Having you there will make the narrative a little less obvious.”
Ella, having returned the tiara to the case, has her thumb in the divot of her chin and another finger between her brows.
She’s explaining the correct proportions of wearing a tiara, and Jang Mi mirrors her with a laugh.
I brush the damask cushion with the tips of my fingers, following the sinuous curves.
If I’m going to say something about my shifting emotions, now is the time. The words crowd my throat.
“Marc?”
Maybe we can do this. Maybe Noah wouldn’t mind me dating his sister. Maybe Alix wouldn’t resent me for making her wedding season all about me and what I want. Maybe—
Ella hugs Jang Mi. She picks up her bag and gives me a quick, perfunctory wave and then she’s out the door. She’s already moved on.
I release a breath. “Yeah. I’m free.”
The favor isn’t even going to be difficult. Ella won’t be there. I won’t have to fight to control my expression or my devouring gaze when the camera is trained on our seats. I can sacrifice a little privacy, complicating the press narrative of what is—what did Ella call it? A soft launch.
“Send me the details,” I say. “Later.” I hit a button and look up.
“Does the prince know?” Jang Mi asks, suddenly near. “About you and his sister.”
“There’s nothing to know.”
Jang Mi twists her lips, skepticism in the crooked line. “But you said—”
“I’m not a lovesick teenager,” I cut her off. I’m not going to lock myself in my bedroom and write bad changga inspired by how much I want Ella.
We rest under a velvet black sky,
Two hands dipped in a river,
Dragged by a single current…
I reach for the switch and plunge the illuminated display case into darkness.
“This will be over before summer.”