Royal Order (Royals of Danovar 3)

Frowning, he checked the other pocket, then his shirt pocket. He found his wedding ring but his signet ring wasn’t anywhere on him. Trying to tamp down his panic, he set his beer on the sidewalk and walked back toward the treehouse, kneeling down to sweep his hands across the grass in the failing light.

“What’s wrong?” Pen asked, standing up behind him.

“My signet ring. It must’ve fallen out of my pocket.” It had to be around here somewhere. He’d get a metal detector, outfit a whole squad of guards with them to sweep the area. He’d find it. He had to.

“Oh no,” Pen murmured, and knelt beside him to help search. But the orange glow of sunset was almost gone, and there was nothing but dirt under his fingers.

“Your Majesties,” said a voice from behind them.

“Not now,” he snapped, unable to keep the growing panic out of his voice.

“My apologies, but this can’t wait.”

Something about the guard’s tone made Simon stop searching and sit up. At his side, Pen did the same. “What is it?” she asked cautiously.

“It’s all over the evening news,” he told them, obviously uncomfortable with the information he was imparting. “A woman is claiming her baby is Nathaniel’s. The Castle is looking into it now, but if it checks out…”

The meaning hit Simon like a load of bricks. He stared at the guard for a long moment before he could manage to voice the words. “Then the baby is the rightful heir to the throne.”

Penelope would be unseated. The role he’d chosen, the life he’d given up everything for, would be gone. He and Pen would have to divorce and he’d return to Danovar empty-handed, or they’d stay married and he’d have to find the same sort of unfulfilling work serving the new King as he’d faced in his old homeland.

In the space of a single moment his world crumbled around him yet again, and he was a little boy again staring up at a treehouse that would never truly be his.

14

A week later, Penelope stood beneath the treehouse and tried to look regal and calm, even though what she really wanted to do was wring either her hands or someone’s neck. The treehouse had finally been spotted by the castle’s higher-ups yesterday. Apparently they—whoever they were—were worried that it was unsafe for a king and queen to be cavorting in, and they’d brought in a structural engineer first thing this morning to review it top to bottom before Pen would be allowed back in. The woman and her team were up there right now, muttering and measuring, determining whether or not the project she and Simon had so lovingly created would need to be destroyed.

But truth be told, she was at least a little bit grateful to have this distraction—because the treehouse wasn’t the only thing of hers and Simon’s that could be destroyed soon. The two of them, along with the rest of the whole castle staff it seemed, had done nothing but worry and research for the last week ever since that woman had come forward with the boy she claimed was the former king’s heir. It had been ascertained that she was in fact one of Nathaniel’s old girlfriends, and the timeline for the child’s birth did match up for having been before his abdication. So if he was truly Nathaniel’s son, he could in fact be the new King, and Penelope would get the boot post-haste.

As would Simon. And what would he do then? Stay with her even though it meant giving up yet another home, even though it meant finding less fulfilling work? Or would he leave? If it came down to that, she hoped she would have the strength to tell him to divorce her. She didn’t want him trapped in a life he wouldn’t have chosen just for her sake. She knew how much his work meant to him, how badly he wanted a meaningful role in his service to royalty. The thought of their marriage ending tore at her, had been tearing at her all week, but she was resolute. She wanted him to be happy more than she wanted herself to be happy—and in a way, that only made things worse, because it meant she had fallen in love with him just in time to give him up forever.

“Are you almost done?” she shouted into the treehouse. Her voice sounded frayed and snippy to her own ears. Regal and calm, she reminded herself, and tried to moderate her tone. “I’d love to hear any updates.”

“Just a few more minutes. Your Majesty,” called the irate structural engineer without even looking up from her work.

Pen frowned. She’d heard that pause before Your Majesty. She doubted it had been intentional, but the claims of a surprise heir had made everyone uncertain lately. That was why her coronation had been delayed too. She could only hope that the castle’s agents found Nathaniel—who was rumored to be off cavorting in some nudist colony in the Swiss Alps now—quickly, so they could perform a DNA paternity test on the child and get Pen’s life out of limbo. The toddler and his mother had already been secreted away in another wing of the castle until the matter was settled.

Her fingernails dug into her palms and she started pacing in hopes of working off some of her anxiety. Funny how not too long ago she would’ve been thrilled to be booted from the throne. Now, the prospect of losing her post as Queen felt like her whole life was slipping through her fingers.

The ladder creaked as the engineer descended. Pen marched over to meet her and waited, forcing herself to keep her chin lifted and meet the woman who would decide her treehouse’s fate eye-to-eye.

The woman dusted off her hands. “Looks okay,” she said in a grudging tone, and everything in Penelope soared. It was a sign. It was a good omen, it had to be. If the treehouse could emerge unscathed, maybe she could too. “But,” the engineer continued, holding up a hand, pr

obably sensing Penelope’s intent to spontaneously hug her, “when you’re building in higher trees like this one, you’ll need to make a few extra modifications for stability. My team will take two or three days to fix it up and do final checks and then you should be good.”

“I want to see the blueprints,” Pen said immediately. She hoped to sell this treehouse through her toy store. If it needed alterations for higher trees, she’d have to put a kit together for that purpose to go with the treehouse plans.

The woman hollered at a team member and soon Pen was poring over the designs, marking down notes and planning the best approach for her kit. By the time the engineer’s team finished for the day and left, Pen was satisfied she could make the treehouse safe for both low and high trees when she sold the final product. Feeling better than she had all week, she turned to head back to the castle.

Kicked up by her toe, something metallic flipped through the grass. She bent down to examine it. A grin broke over her face when she recognized Simon’s ring, and she scooped it up as gently as if it were a baby bird. He would be so thrilled to have this back. He’d been wrapped up in his research lately, coming to bed late and barely having any time to so much as talk to her, but maybe this could break him away from his worries at least a little.

She turned to head toward the castle again, intent on dragging Simon out of his library cave by force if need be, but spotted him walking toward her before she’d even taken a single step. Her smile widened. Yet another good sign. “Simon!” she shouted, waving her hands to get his attention.

He spotted her and strode over, a grim look on his face. “They found out about the toy store,” he said before she could tell him the good news.

She blinked as the words sunk in. “What do you mean?” she asked hesitantly, dreading his answer.

“Parliament found out you still own it. They also found out about all the toy patents.”