Page 26 of Awestruck (Starstruck Love Stories #4)

She hands him a ceramic plate full of steaming fish and potato wedges. “You flatter me, Aleksander.”

“A fish for a kiss,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Got it.” I still feel weird about kissing a woman I met two minutes ago, no matter how good her food smells.

Next to me, Freya giggles and nudges my arm. “Did Hex not explain things to you?” She leans forward and kisses the woman’s other cheek. “I have missed you, Tova!”

When Freya gets her own plate of fish and chips, I glare at Hex until he looks up. He bites his lips to keep from laughing and returns to his work. “No,” I say in a growl. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

Freya holds her plate toward me, and I gratefully take one of the chips to curb my hunger as she explains, “Havenford only deals in trades. They are a self-sufficient village with a firm policy that everyone has what they need.”

I need food or I’m soon going to be in a worse mood than I already am, but I still don’t want to kiss anyone for it. “Hmm.” It looks like there are other booths offering food, and maybe one of them will take a different trade. But I’m almost afraid to ask.

“I don’t like kisses either,” Hex says, as if reading my thoughts. He shakes hands with the weathered old man, then comes over to me with something wrapped in cloth. He hands the cloth bundle to Tova, who takes it and offers a plate of food in return. “Bless you, Tova.”

Tova pats his cheek. “And because I like Sven’s butter so much, you can take this for your serious friend.”

Hex accepts a second plate of food, and I’m ready to hug the man when he looks at me and says, “I need my kiss first, El.”

I slap him instead, just forcefully enough that it catches him off guard and gives me a chance to snatch the plate from his hand.

“Don’t push your luck, Prince Hendrik.” I stuff some of the fish into my mouth in case Hex tries to fight me and take it back, and the perfection of it hits me so hard that I almost moan.

This definitely would have been worth a kiss.

With laughter in her eyes, Freya nudges my arm and nods in the direction of some picnic tables nearby. They’re under the awnings of one of the shops, which means they’re dry, so I gladly follow the three Alverra siblings and sit down between Freya and the street.

“What have you been doing this afternoon?” she asks when we’re settled.

I glare at Hex again, and he laughs. “One of the fishermen needed some help,” he explains.

“Oh, no wonder you are soaked to the bone!” Freya touches my arm again, her fingers hot against my chilled skin, even through my shirt.

She needs to stop doing that. We can be friends, but clearly physical contact has a strong effect on me lately.

“We should see if anyone has some dry clothes for you.”

“I’d hate to find out what those would cost me,” I mutter.

Her nose wrinkles with her smile, but my little quip didn’t get a laugh out of her. I shouldn’t be disappointed, but I am. I’ve only heard her full laugh a couple of times, and while it doesn’t match her princessy exterior at all, her goose-like laughter fits her well. It makes her real.

The four of us dig in to our food, eating in silence for several minutes while the street continues to grow busier. It’s coming alive now that the storm has passed, and for how small it is, I’m surprised by the energy of the place. It seems the entire town has come out with the sun.

“I always love visiting Havenford,” Freya says. “It does not happen often, and I have not been back for many years, but it brings me so much joy when I am here.”

“They really don’t deal with money at all?” I ask. “How can that be sustainable?”

Sander snickers and tosses a chip at my face. “Tova must have liked you. Normally a trade has to be more substantial.”

“Like butter?” I say to Hex, recalling the cloth bundle he gave Tova.

“Exactly,” Freya answers for him. “Things people need. A cup of sugar for an egg. Helping a sheep birth a lamb in exchange for fixing roof slats.”

“What about medicine? Electricity? Taxes?”

An all too familiar voice responds to my question. “I see the American is already confused.”

Body tensing, I stand to face Grimstad and fold my arms. “I guess it’s nice to see you weren’t lying about your next stop.” But it’s certainly not nice to see him here. I really hoped he wouldn’t show up so Freya could do her thing in peace. Whatever that thing is.

Grimstad chuckles and looks me up and down before bowing to the princess. “Your Highness. Prince Hendrik, Prince Aleksander, always nice to see you both.”

To their credit, the twins barely acknowledge him and keep their focus on their food. Freya, on the other hand, smiles at Grimstad and gestures to the spot next to Hex. “Would you care to join us?”

Grimstad considers her offer for a moment, then nods. “If you don’t mind waiting until I visit Tova for my own meal, then I would be happy to accept.”

“Of course.”

The instant he’s out of earshot—or close enough to it—I turn to Freya and scowl. “I know we both decided he was being sincere last night, but did you really need to—”

“I would rather have him where I can see him,” Freya says calmly. “If he is here for the same reason I am, then I would like to speak to him about it.”

“What, exactly, is that reason?”

But I don’t get an answer because Grimstad returns, a plate of fish in hand and a smudge of lipstick on his cheek. Apparently he was the recipient of the kiss and the fish, which is even less of an unfair trade than the deal I was presented with.

It takes a few seconds of awkwardness and a throat clearing from Freya before the twins scoot down the bench to make enough room for Grimstad to sit directly across from me, and the tension is thick at the table as he settles in.

He must know none of us want him here, and yet he starts eating like this is a perfectly normal interaction.

It doesn’t take long before he looks up and meets my glare with a politely confused smile. “Rough day?” he asks.

I narrow my eyes, letting my gaze fall to the lipstick on his cheek.

He coughs and grabs a napkin, rubbing the exact spot he was kissed. “Tova’s fireplace was giving her trouble this morning when I got to town, and I happened to pass by as she was heading out to find someone to fix it.”

“Sure you did,” I growl.

Grimstad chuckles a little. “You know I grew up here, yeah?”

My mind quickly sorts through the information I internalized about him. “No, you were born in Lynholm.” I’m sure of it. I may be tired, but I have my facts right.

“True,” Grimstad acknowledges calmly. “But my parents’ circumstances required me to come here and live with my grandparents for a few years, so I was raised by most of the village.”

Cursing under my breath, I recall a brief line in the dossier about Grimstad that mentioned time spent with relatives during his secondary school years. It didn’t feel important when I read it, and I was more focused on his adult years and political background.

Ignoring information is a mistake I can’t afford to make, and I make a mental note to read through the dossier again as soon as we get back to the inn.

Until then… “So how did you pay for a school like Oxford?” I ask, hoping to fill in the pieces I’m missing. “Can’t trade a few hours of manual labor for tuition.”

Grimstad shrugs. “I was fortunate to receive a scholarship.”

“Fortunate indeed.”

Smile growing, he picks up a chip and points it at me as he says, “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

“Should he?” Sander asks gruffly, looking around Hex to raise an eyebrow at the man.

“Have I given you any reasons not to?” Grimstad asks me.

My hands curl into fists. He’s so calm that he makes me nervous, and I don’t like it. “Aside from being a direct threat to my position?”

Grimstad smirks. “Aside from that.”

“Easy, boys,” Freya says, holding a hand between us. “Let us not besmirch Havenford with idiotic rivalries, yes? Mr. Grimstad, you—”

“I really wish you would call me Markham, Your Highness.” Grimstad holds up a hand when she scowls at him, so at least he’s smart enough to know he’s going against the request she made last night. “We don’t have to be friends, but I don’t like the formality between us. Please.”

Freya seems to debate for a moment before she sighs and nods. “Very well.”

“You’ll still address her as Your Highness unless she says otherwise,” I throw in, though I really want to tell him that the likelihood of Freya being around him often enough to even use his name is slim to none. “Even then, I recommend you stick to her title.”

Hex snorts into his food.

Am I aware that I rarely called Freya by her title even when she ordered me to? Yes. But we’re past that now, so it’s fine.

Grimstad, unflappable as ever, dips his head at me. “Of course. You were saying, Your Highness?”

Though I’m pretty sure Freya is resisting the urge to roll her eyes at me, mostly her expression is calm and confident.

But even with her focus on Grimstad, her hand finds mine under the table and wraps around my clenched fist. It’s only there for a moment before it returns to her lap.

“Markham, aside from visiting old friends, I assume you are here to study the people of Havenford for your campaign.”

“You have found me out. It gets harder to visit as life gets busier, so I thought it would be a good idea to refresh my memory on the way of life here. The rest of Candora could use some of their beliefs, as I’m sure you know.”

Freya tilts her head to the side. “Does that make us united in this regard?”

“I suppose it does, but that’s only one of many parts of my platform.”

“Not a small part, I would imagine.”