Page 61
Story: Modern Romance June 2025 5-8
Unlike his father, he didn’t brush aside inconvenient truths. If her story were true…
It didn’t bear thinking about.
Prinzenberg was in a worse state than he’d thought, public monies siphoned off to private individuals and a whiff of corruption where there was big money to be made. Benedikt had worked hard to prepare himself to become King one day but it would take all his skills, knowledge and time to set his country on the right track again.
The idea that a woman who’d never been near the royal court, much less the machinery of government, could take his place…it made his blood run cold.
Prinzenberg couldn’t afford an amateur. It needed strong, strategic government. Benedikt was far from perfect but he was a highly successful businessman, thanks to his grandfather’s mentoring, and he’d been raised to understand politics, public service and foreign diplomacy.
Matthias inclined his head in the direction of the room where Annalena awaited his return. ‘And the Princess?’
Benedikt rolled tight shoulders. ‘Let me worry about her.’ He opened a desk drawer, reaching for headache tablets. ‘Believe me, you’ve got the easier job.’
‘Frankly, my dear, I’d never realised the practical implications of your career. It’s fascinating, the work you’re doing.’
Colonel Ditmar smiled warmly before taking a bite of cherry pastry. As a child she’d known him well, the kindly man with an engaging twinkle who always had time for a rather lonely little girl.
She hadn’t seen him for years, though he still visited her grandmother. Seeing him reminded her how time marched on. He had the same upright bearing, bushy moustache and gravelly voice, but his moustache and hair were white now, and his face, like her grandmother’s, was lined by age.
Annalena had been raised by a generation older than the parents she’d never known. It struck her how precious her time with those dear people was.
She shoved aside the thought of a world without her amazing Oma, instead recounting for the colonel an amusing story about a field trip fraught with complications.
His laughter eased the tension knotting her shoulder blades. It almost made her forget they shared coffee and cake not in her grandmother’s elegant sitting room, but in an ostentatious salon full of ornate gilding and uncomfortable chairs.
Was thereanyroom in the sprawling palace designed for comfort rather than show? She felt the constraining shadow of King Karl and his son in the very walls.
As if on cue, a door in the white and gilt panelling swung open and a tall figure appeared. Wide shoulders filled the space, then in stepped the man who called himself King.
Easier to think of him in those terms than as Benedikt. That was too dangerously informal. Annalena didn’t have his measure. She didn’t believe he’d resort to violence like his father but she didn’t trust him. She couldn’t let down her guard. Not when in one short interview he’d completely upset her equilibrium.
Upset it? The first time their eyes met it felt like an earthquake resonating from the pit of her stomach, overwhelming her body in waves of… What? Yearning? Recognition?
She roped in dismay. It would take a remarkable man to make Annalena yearn at first sight.
Her parents had fallen for each other at first sight. Far from finding that sweet or inspirational, for Annalena that had been a cautionary tale. Their love had been doomed, leaving her mother a widow while still a bride. Then she’d died of a broken heart as much as from illness, leaving her daughter orphaned. No wonder Annalena had never dreamt of romance. As for being swept off her feet…!
No, Benedikt might be remarkable but, she told herself, for all the wrong reasons.
Yet as he crossed the room, a warm smile easing his features as he greeted the colonel, Annalena feltsomething. A fluttering in her chest. The suspicion of an ache that for a moment left her breathless.
She watched him shake the old man’s hand, refusing to let him rise from his seat, though protocol demanded it. Or would if he really were King.
Annalena swallowed convulsively as unease raised goosebumps across her skin. She’d done the right thing, revealing the secret of her birth. Every other avenue they’d tried had failed. But had she unleashed something larger than she’d imagined?
He turned, eyes appraising, and suspicion solidified into an atavistic fear that she’d set in motion something she couldn’t control.
‘Princess Annalena, I hope you’ve enjoyed your afternoon tea.’
She inclined her head, refusing to use the title he claimed. ‘Thank you, yes. The colonel and I are old friends. It’s been wonderful to catch up. Such a coincidence we should be visiting the palace at the same time.’
And such a convenient way for you to check I really am who I say. The colonel wouldn’t be fooled by an imposter.
One dark eyebrow rose and she had the unnerving sense her opponent read her mind.
She almost wished he could. He had such a confident air it would do him good to realise it took more than good looks to impress a thinking woman.
His eyes narrowed on her then flared wide, more gold than brown. Heat bloomed inside her and she hurriedly turned to her companion. She wasnotdiscomfited. She was simply remembering her manners.
It didn’t bear thinking about.
Prinzenberg was in a worse state than he’d thought, public monies siphoned off to private individuals and a whiff of corruption where there was big money to be made. Benedikt had worked hard to prepare himself to become King one day but it would take all his skills, knowledge and time to set his country on the right track again.
The idea that a woman who’d never been near the royal court, much less the machinery of government, could take his place…it made his blood run cold.
Prinzenberg couldn’t afford an amateur. It needed strong, strategic government. Benedikt was far from perfect but he was a highly successful businessman, thanks to his grandfather’s mentoring, and he’d been raised to understand politics, public service and foreign diplomacy.
Matthias inclined his head in the direction of the room where Annalena awaited his return. ‘And the Princess?’
Benedikt rolled tight shoulders. ‘Let me worry about her.’ He opened a desk drawer, reaching for headache tablets. ‘Believe me, you’ve got the easier job.’
‘Frankly, my dear, I’d never realised the practical implications of your career. It’s fascinating, the work you’re doing.’
Colonel Ditmar smiled warmly before taking a bite of cherry pastry. As a child she’d known him well, the kindly man with an engaging twinkle who always had time for a rather lonely little girl.
She hadn’t seen him for years, though he still visited her grandmother. Seeing him reminded her how time marched on. He had the same upright bearing, bushy moustache and gravelly voice, but his moustache and hair were white now, and his face, like her grandmother’s, was lined by age.
Annalena had been raised by a generation older than the parents she’d never known. It struck her how precious her time with those dear people was.
She shoved aside the thought of a world without her amazing Oma, instead recounting for the colonel an amusing story about a field trip fraught with complications.
His laughter eased the tension knotting her shoulder blades. It almost made her forget they shared coffee and cake not in her grandmother’s elegant sitting room, but in an ostentatious salon full of ornate gilding and uncomfortable chairs.
Was thereanyroom in the sprawling palace designed for comfort rather than show? She felt the constraining shadow of King Karl and his son in the very walls.
As if on cue, a door in the white and gilt panelling swung open and a tall figure appeared. Wide shoulders filled the space, then in stepped the man who called himself King.
Easier to think of him in those terms than as Benedikt. That was too dangerously informal. Annalena didn’t have his measure. She didn’t believe he’d resort to violence like his father but she didn’t trust him. She couldn’t let down her guard. Not when in one short interview he’d completely upset her equilibrium.
Upset it? The first time their eyes met it felt like an earthquake resonating from the pit of her stomach, overwhelming her body in waves of… What? Yearning? Recognition?
She roped in dismay. It would take a remarkable man to make Annalena yearn at first sight.
Her parents had fallen for each other at first sight. Far from finding that sweet or inspirational, for Annalena that had been a cautionary tale. Their love had been doomed, leaving her mother a widow while still a bride. Then she’d died of a broken heart as much as from illness, leaving her daughter orphaned. No wonder Annalena had never dreamt of romance. As for being swept off her feet…!
No, Benedikt might be remarkable but, she told herself, for all the wrong reasons.
Yet as he crossed the room, a warm smile easing his features as he greeted the colonel, Annalena feltsomething. A fluttering in her chest. The suspicion of an ache that for a moment left her breathless.
She watched him shake the old man’s hand, refusing to let him rise from his seat, though protocol demanded it. Or would if he really were King.
Annalena swallowed convulsively as unease raised goosebumps across her skin. She’d done the right thing, revealing the secret of her birth. Every other avenue they’d tried had failed. But had she unleashed something larger than she’d imagined?
He turned, eyes appraising, and suspicion solidified into an atavistic fear that she’d set in motion something she couldn’t control.
‘Princess Annalena, I hope you’ve enjoyed your afternoon tea.’
She inclined her head, refusing to use the title he claimed. ‘Thank you, yes. The colonel and I are old friends. It’s been wonderful to catch up. Such a coincidence we should be visiting the palace at the same time.’
And such a convenient way for you to check I really am who I say. The colonel wouldn’t be fooled by an imposter.
One dark eyebrow rose and she had the unnerving sense her opponent read her mind.
She almost wished he could. He had such a confident air it would do him good to realise it took more than good looks to impress a thinking woman.
His eyes narrowed on her then flared wide, more gold than brown. Heat bloomed inside her and she hurriedly turned to her companion. She wasnotdiscomfited. She was simply remembering her manners.
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