Royal Order (Royals of Danovar 3)

The on-screen fight broke up and the rugby players got back to the game. Phillip let the conversation drop as Simon went back to the folder, but even as he read, he couldn’t quite get his mind off the picture of Pen in that dress, and how Pen might look under the dress, and exactly what techniques he might employ to ascertain those details.

He shook himself out of the thought. Sexy daydreams—and hopefully, their fulfillment—were for later, after they were married and stable.

Still, though, he had the feeling that Penelope Alcott would be a hard woman to get off his mind.

4

Simon sat on a loveseat at Penelope’s side and tried not to glare at the photographer. Their engagement portrait session had dragged on for the last five hours, and if that gratingly cheerful man told them to “look in love” one more time Simon was going to rip the camera out of his hands and shove it down his throat. And that was saying a lot, since Simon normally wasn’t the quick-tempered sort.

Simon sighed and leaned against the arm of the loveseat. The truth was, it wasn’t the man who was irritating him. It was Simon’s own inability to look in love, because how was he supposed to pull that off with a woman he knew basically nothing about? The two of them had finally gotten a bit more comfortable with each other as the day went on, but they were getting to the more intimate, informal portraits now, and their uncertainty over silly things—whether to clasp hands or i

ntertwine their fingers, for example—was jarring. Sure, he’d researched the heck out of her, but a career in politics had taught him a long time ago that a dossier just couldn’t do a person justice. He wanted to put her at ease, wanted to put them both at ease, but had no idea where to start.

“What’s with the grimace? A little less Strict Simon, a little more moon-eyed groom,” the photographer scolded, and Simon tried to rearrange his facial features into a doting look while imagining choking the man with his own camera strap.

From her spot on the other side of the loveseat, Pen forced a smile back at him. The chair was barely big enough for them both but there were still a solid three inches of space between them. He hated to think she felt as awkward as he did.

Maybe some small talk would help. “This is a lovely receiving room,” he commented. It was the first time he’d been in the family area of Castle Alcott. It was decorated in duskier hues than the Danovian castle, and the architecture leaned more Spanish than English, but it was similar enough to feel at least a little familiar to him.

“Oh,” Pen said, glancing around like it was the first time she’d really looked at the room. “It is, isn’t it? I guess I’ve only been back here once or twice.”

He frowned, surprised. “But this is the Queen’s receiving room,” he said, and then winced. Of course—she’d only found out she was going to be Queen a few weeks ago, and she’d only moved into the palace a few days ago. This wing was probably nearly as unfamiliar to her as it was to him. “Sorry,” he said. “I forgot.”

She smiled tightly, but the damage was done, and they were even more awkward than before.

The photographer gave up with a loud sigh. “Okay, guys, sit tight. I’m going to go find my crew—I think they were scouting backgrounds in the garden for the last round of pictures. When I get back, you two are going to look like you can’t wait to get each other alone, okay?” He marched out the door without waiting for an answer—and ironically, they now were alone, and had no idea what to do about it.

Pen gave him another forced smile, looked away, and started twisting at her rings. The engagement ring was due to be resized soon but for now it was still way too big, and with her constantly fidgeting he was worried she was going to drop and lose it again. The ring had been in his family for generations, and his mother would kill him if his bride didn’t take good care of it.

He started to open his mouth to gently ask her to be careful, but before he could, a guard popped his head in the door. “Castle security has found something suspicious on the grounds,” he said, his tone brisk. “We’re going into lockdown. Please stay where you are.” He stepped back outside and shut the door behind him, a soft click telling Simon the lockdown was literal.

Pen leapt off the loveseat, eyes wide. She strode across the room and tugged at the door, rattling the locked doorknob to no effect. “Oh my God,” she said, spinning around. “Are we trapped in here? What’s happening?”

Having served with the King and Prince in Danovar, Simon was used to this kind of thing, but of course she would be taken aback. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her, “these are usually nothing. It’ll just take twenty minutes or so for them to double-check, and then we’ll be released.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but she started pacing. With her short, petite build and the tense energy in her soft steps, she made him think of a little fox trying to escape a trap.

“Right, of course,” she said, but the way she spun her bracelets around her wrists told him she was on the verge of panic.

Maybe taking her mind off the problem would help. “We could chat if you want, to pass the time. Getting to know each other might help us when that photographer tells us to look in love again.”

“Of course.” She reached the far end of the room and pivoted, turning to pace back past him. She was so tiny—standing up, she was only a little taller than he was when seated. He was tempted to just pick her up and tuck her under his arm to soothe her, but he didn’t think she would appreciate that.

“Your toy store,” he said, remembering how happy she’d looked when she talked to him about that topic after they’d first met. “Tell me about it. What’s your favorite part of your job?”

Her steps slowed and her jaw unclenched just a little. “The kids,” she said without hesitation. “I love seeing them play with the toys I’ve designed, love seeing that look of joy on their faces and knowing I put it there.” Her expression went wistful for a moment, then she frowned. “Though I guess I won’t have much time for that sort of thing now.” Her steps picked back up and her jaw went tight again.

Okay. Small talk wasn’t working. Simon reached out as she passed him and caught her hand, forcing her to stop. Her fingers felt so small and delicate in his, and he held them gently, as if they were made of something fragile and precious. “Look,” he said. “I know you’re worried about the whole lockdown thing—why don’t we both just say what exactly we’re afraid of? I’ve found that sometimes naming your fears can help you look at them more logically.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be a bad queen,” she blurted out, dropping heavily onto the loveseat next to him. “I’m afraid I’m not cut out to rule my people, and I’m afraid I’ll do more bad than good by being in a position of authority when I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Simon blinked at her, shocked at the turn her answer had taken. He’d just meant for them to discuss her fears about the lockdown. But this, he wasn’t sure he was quite prepared for. Still, she looked so lost and small that he couldn’t help but reach out and touch her shoulder. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s only natural to feel uncertain in the face of such a big change. And yes, there will have to be some adjustment. But caring as much as you do—that’s a huge first step. That’s the best foundation for ensuring you do great things as queen.”

“Yeah,” she said, but the frown slashed across her face and the way her gaze was fixed on the floor told him she was still doubtful.

Could she really think she could be anything but a wonderful queen? He’d seen it the second he met her, and he’d be willing to bet everyone else would see it soon too if they hadn’t already. She might lack confidence, but she was willing to serve her country as much as he’d always been willing to serve his. For Escona’s sake, she’d taken on a royal role she felt unprepared for, along with a marriage to a man she’d never met before.

She looked up again. “Can I ask you something?” she asked, and when he nodded, she went on, “Why are you here? What made you come all this way to marry someone you’ve never met, a woman who was never supposed to be Queen in the first place?”

He looked at his hands. She’d been honest with him; it was only fair he do the same with her. “Lately I’ve started feeling a bit adrift,” he admitted. “I’ve trained my whole life to serve royalty. To serve as a royal. I was starting to worry it was all for nothing, that I’d never be able to accomplish the goals I wanted to. I’m over thirty now, and I’ve never truly felt like I had a real home, a place to call my own, somewhere where I felt secure.” He shrugged. “But really, since we’re talking about fears—my biggest worry was that this would be just another royal assignment. That it wouldn’t get me any closer to what I’ve always wanted: a purpose.”