5. Gabriel
GAbrIEL
THE SOUND OF the dowager Duchess of Maravilla laughing brought several of Alejandro’s staff to the door of the sunroom where we sat opposite each other on stiff red velvet Baroque sofas.
The alarm on their faces, particularly Elena’s, was comical, like they’d never heard the old woman laugh before and were concerned about what I’d done to cause such a loud cackle.
Her back was facing them, though, so she didn’t see their looks, and I gave a flick of my hand, waving them away. They scattered back to their posts.
“No,” the dowager said, thumping her cane against the polished stone floor. “Absolutely not. I refuse to believe anyone in Valoria would consider that dancing.”
“No? Shall I do it again?” I moved to stand up, but she started to laugh again and shook her head.
“Once was more than enough, you vulgar boy.” Her eyes were shining with amusement, though, and I grinned and crossed my ankle over my knee.
“Well, if you change your mind, we’d be happy to host you at Montclair Palace so you can see my cousin Leopold’s moves for yourself. It’ll be an experience you’ll never forget.”
“Your invitation is entertainment enough.”
It was a victory to have the dowager smiling, because when I’d been shown to the sunroom forty minutes earlier, she’d regarded me with enough disdain to wilt flowers—which, of course, meant I’d liked her immediately. Anyone who made staff as jumpy as she did deserved respect.
Despite the direct sun warming the room enough to have me sweating under my jacket, she was bundled up, wrapped in black lace, wearing pearls at her throat and rings on each of her fingers.
With the way her silver hair was pinned back so severely, she was an intimidating force—which I gathered was why Alejandro had put her on my itinerary.
“So,” she said, picking up her teacup and eyeing me over the rim, “you are a charming one.”
“I am many things, Your Grace, but charming can be one of them if you should so wish it.”
She sipped her tea, that keen gaze ever assessing. “You have the face of a man who gets away with too much.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You would.”
Her teasing was a one-eighty from the woman I’d first met, and light-years away from the earlier part of my morning. I’d been escorted from one meeting to the next in a meticulously laid-out itinerary that Alejandro had been so thoughtful to prepare for me.
Who wouldn’t want to talk about supply chains and crop shortages with the minister of agriculture over breakfast at seven fifteen in the morning? Or review naval trade ledgers and nod like I knew what it all meant?
My afternoon schedule wasn’t any better, because what was Alejandro thinking, scheduling lunch for me with twelve ministers?
It hadn’t taken me long to realize what this “schedule” of his really was.
It was a dare. It was payback.
He thought tedious meetings and a long list of protocol would wear me down, or that I wouldn’t be able to handle myself correctly in such situations. That I’d run screaming from boredom and forget all about mending fences.
But what poor Alejandro didn’t remember was that I’d been raised in a palace with Nicholas Valemont, who only ever followed boring rules and protocol, so this was very much in my wheelhouse.
The dowager wasn’t far off when she said I was someone who got away with too much. A little charm, a little flirting or teasing—it went a long way in such a stiff, upper-crust society that was too polite to say what they were really thinking.
Truly, this time with the dowager had been the highlight of my morning so far, because once you got her to open up, she could tell a naughty joke with the best of them.
Her laugh once again had the door opening, only this time it wasn’t the staff—it was Alejandro.
He wore all cream linen today, several buttons of his shirt undone like he had nothing of importance to do whatsoever, and his dark hair had a sleek look to it, like he’d just gotten out of the pool.
Which he probably had. No doubt his life consisted of eating grapes and drinking wine and sunbathing outside, at least while I was here.
He took one look at the two of us and a faint line appeared between his brows, like he was annoyed by the fact that we were laughing and I wasn’t crying and begging to be sent back to Valoria.
“Your Grace,” he said to the dowager. “All is well, I hope?”
“Of course I’m well. Do I not look it?”
He blinked at the change in her tone, but quickly masked his surprise as he moved farther into the room. “You look lovely as ever. Prince Gabriel. Enjoying your morning?”
I smiled and leaned back against the velvet sofa, entirely at ease. “Immensely. Your Highness.”
“Really.”
“I’m not sure anything will top this meeting with the dowager duchess, but I especially enjoyed the tour of the royal olive archives. Fascinating.”
When his lips thinned, I grinned even wider, because this was exactly what was going to get under the prince’s skin. He was playing a game with me, wanting to make me miserable, since I was encroaching on his space, but what he failed to realize was that I loved games.
And now he’d given me a purpose, even more than repairing the fractures between our kingdoms.
Rule one: make Alejandro de la Vega genuinely laugh the way the dowager did.
Rule two: don’t let him know it’s a game.
Rule three—actually, no. Two rules were plenty, and I was trying to behave myself, somewhat, for Nicholas’s sake.
Alejandro’s eyes flicked up to the ornate clock on the wall. “Lunch is in ten minutes.”
“Yes, with twelve ministers,” I said. “How fortunate I won’t have to eat more barnacles alone.”
The dowager let out a low laugh, since I’d filled her in on my evening—that had been what broke the ice—and Alejandro practically scowled.
It was a hot scowl, though. He’d been so overly confident on his visit to Valoria that seeing this side of him was refreshing, and it didn’t seem to matter what his expression was—the man was hot.
I bet he’d really glare daggers if he knew it was me that had been pretending to be King Nicholas on his visit to Montclair Palace.
Too bad I was swept away to the next stop on my itinerary before I could divulge that information, off to charm the ministers.
We’d gotten through the main course before any of them cracked a smile.
I chalked that up to their being hungry, because after that it was smooth sailing through all the talk of taxation and grain allocations.
By late afternoon, I had survived a trek down to the beehives at the far end of the palace grounds, where I’d worn enough netting to stave off the hundreds of bees that swarmed around us, and then I’d been taken on a tour of portraits—which was as thrilling as it sounded.
Alejandro had made sure my schedule was exhausting, and by the time I’d changed for dinner, I was practically asleep standing up.
But then I looked at the updated evening itinerary waiting for me and noticed that the evening dinner in my honor was taking place in the state dining hall—which would’ve been fine, except I’d overheard the chef saying Prince Alejandro would be taking dinner up on the rooftop terrace this evening.
So he wasn’t planning to join in tonight. Interesting.
Guess I’d have to bring the party to him, then.
The good thing about making friends with the staff—even on your second day in a new place—was that they were usually willing to help out a smiling face.
They were so used to the humdrum of their current employers that someone like me was a breath of fresh air.
Someone they were willing to bend the rules for.
So when I spotted one of the maids who’d taken care of my chambers earlier this morning, she was more than happy to show me the best way to get to the rooftop.
I slipped through a glass door and out onto the terrace, and the second it shut behind me, I understood why Alejandro had opted for dinner outside rather than in some dining hall.
There was a sultry breeze sweeping in from the sea, enough to cool the air after the warm day we’d had in Solterra. It rustled the leaves of the grapevines growing over the trellis that covered most of the terrace, and it was there that I spotted Alejandro.
He was seated alone at a long wooden table facing the jagged cliffs the palace was built into. A maroon table runner divided the handcrafted surface, and spread out before him was a feast fit for…well, a prince.
I made my way across the terra cotta tiles and noted a carafe of wine, a goblet for one, and a platter that had a roasted suckling pig on it.
A large glass bowl with fresh salad, red onions, olives, and cheese sprinkled on top sat to the side.
Alejandro reached for the silver tongs that had been left and began to load up his plate.
Careful not to make a sound, I made my way over to where he sat as a fast, flamenco-style strumming filtered into the night air. It went hand in hand with the setting, the meal, and the man.
Oh, I see… While I was to be dining downstairs to the boring backdrop of some customary Valorian meal he’d organized in honor of my visit, he was going to gorge himself up here on the finest food and wine.
It seemed Prince Alejandro and I had more in common than I’d anticipated.
We both enjoyed indulging ourselves. The only shocking part of this scenario was that he was alone.
From what I understood, if there was one indulgence the prince enjoyed over all others, it was a warm male body to occupy his bed.
“I believe you missed your turn, Your Highness.” Alejandro’s deep voice cut through the music and was like some kind of siren call to my treacherous body, drawing me closer to the man. “Your meal is being served downstairs.”
“So I heard.” I reached the table just as Alejandro finished piling some of the pig alongside his salad. “But a little birdie spoke of a rooftop terrace where you were dining, and I just knew you wouldn’t mind my joining you.”