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“I feel like this is definitely more colorful than the Google version.” He really wanted that popcorn, though. “What kind of scholarships?”

“Arts—music, theater, drama, dance, and later cinema.” Cinema. God, he was so unbearably posh. “All ages—children, teens, young adults—in the UK but also here in Lyngria. But of course all the recipients of these scholarships in non-European countries went abroad to train.”

Brayden didn’t bother fighting the eye roll. “Oh, of course.” Because how could a worthy school exist in a place like India.

“Obviously my parents and I have made some fundamental changes to the scholarships. But that’s how it used to work, in a nutshell.

And every year there’d be a Night of a Thousand Lights, and top students and alumni from all over the world were invited to attend and perform and rub elbows with various important people. ”

By that Brayden inferred directors, conductors, choreographers, producers, and the rest of the -ers and -ors. “I’m with you so far.”

“Well, imagine this—it’s the 1980s. My mother has just assumed the throne at the young age of twenty-seven, after her parents stepped down due to my grandmother’s ailing health. It’s her first time hosting this huge event all by herself. She’s nervous, but she’s faking it really well.

“Before the event opens, it’s traditional for the host to meet all the scholarship recipients in attendance for the event.

So Mom put on her tiara and her gown a little early and went down to the ballroom to meet everyone, only she was so nervous she was actually really early—like an hour early.

And she decided a queen couldn’t be so indecisive as to go back upstairs thirty seconds after she’d just come down, so she was stuck there when my father came in, lost and looking for a restroom. ”

“And he couldn’t leave once he’d seen her either,” Brayden guessed.

“It would have been a bit rude to try to escape the hostess of the party that raises money for the scholarship that gave you your livelihood,” Flip agreed.

“Though he readily confesses he didn’t want to escape.

Well.” He smiled so broadly the corners of his eyes crinkled, and Brayden was glad he was sitting down so he didn’t swoon.

“He did really have to pee by the time the party started.”

Brayden snorted in surprised laughter—not just a little one either but a great piglike honk.

He should probably have been mortified, but he caught Flip’s eyes at exactly the wrong moment and saw the humor register there before Flip’s good manners could cover it up.

That only made him laugh harder. He snorted again and dissolved into giggles.

Across the table, Flip had his hand over his eyes and his shoulders were shaking in silent mirth.

The first time Brayden caught his breath—“Okay, come on, it wasn’t that funny”—Flip hiccupped , and that set them both off again.

They had a few more false starts before they managed to get themselves under control, and Flip wiped tears from the corners of his eyes as Brayden clutched his stomach. “I think I have a cramp,” he admitted.

Flip cleared his throat once and then grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table and blotted his face. “I haven’t laughed like that in years.”

Something warm and sweet and possessive swept through Brayden—a sense of accomplishment that he could bring that kind of joy to someone who had everything. It left him feeling tender under the ribs. “Me neither.”

“No?” Flip cocked his head. “I would’ve thought…. You seem like the kind of person who lives every moment to the fullest.”

“I am.” Brayden shrugged, suddenly self-conscious, the back of his neck prickling. He smoothed a hand over it. “I do. But I guess….” He frowned, suddenly realizing the truth. “I’m alone for a lot of that. Hard to make yourself belly laugh.”

“I suppose so.”

“Anyway.” Brayden pushed that tender, raw feeling to the side and centered himself. They’d been talking about how Flip’s parents met. “The royal meet-cute. Your mom’s the queen, and your dad—a scholarship kid, you said.”

“He was thirty when they met, and well established in his career. But yes.” When Flip talked about his parents, his eyes took on a kind of dreaminess. Obviously they were all very close. “Mom had never seen any of his films, of course.”

Brayden sat up straighter. “Films?” he echoed. Something in his brain clicked into place. “Your dad’s a movie star ?”

“He was, in India in the seventies and eighties. Now he’s prince consort of Lyngria.” Flip gave him a strange look. “You didn’t know any of this? Really?”

Okay, so most people would have googled, but…. “I didn’t want to read up on you and come off like a creeper or embarrass myself reading some fake website.” Brayden’s ears went hot. “Besides, I figured it was just as easy to get the information right from the source.”

“Well, you’ll be pleased to know that my father’s entire body of work is available on Netflix in this country.”

That sounded dangerous. Brayden had sights to see, and he didn’t mean a television screen.

“Maybe if we get a rainy day.” Besides, a movie star with a son who looked like Flip?

1970s Flip’s Dad was probably super hot, and lusting after him would be super weird, especially since he was likely to meet the man tomorrow. No, thank you.

“Fair enough. The day must be seized.” Flip straightened his posture and folded his hands neatly on the table. “Anything else you need to know for tomorrow?”

Brayden thought for a moment. “Yeah, just one thing. What exactly are you doing, flying back and forth between here and Toronto every month?”

“My second job.” Flip looked around as though to verify they were alone, which seemed ridiculous, but maybe he was about to divulge a state secret.

“The crown owns a diamond operation here in Lyngria. I’ve been setting up a satellite office in Toronto because we’re looking to break into the Canadian market.

The plan is to turn the company public so that it will directly fund a universal childcare initiative, but letting go of control means I have to trust the people in charge, and I’m… having trouble with that part.”

“Understandable.” Brayden wondered if that meant that Flip would stop being on his flight a couple times a month. “Sounds like my job will get a lot less interesting soon.”

He must have sounded more bitter than he meant to, or else something showed on his face, because Flip cocked his head. “You don’t like your job?”

Brayden shrugged. “It’s complicated.” It provided a great excuse when his mother asked when he was going to settle down— Mom, I’m never home. Who’d want to date me? —and that’s exactly why he chose it.

Perhaps Flip understood, if the wry smile he gave was an indication. “Isn’t it always.”

Brayden supposed being a prince would have a lot of its own pitfalls. “I guess so.” God, when had the conversation gotten so heavy? They needed to get back on some lighter topics. He pulled the tablet toward himself and forced some brightness into his voice. “So… dessert?”

They chatted a little more about tomorrow and about Brayden’s plans for that evening.

Tonight was the light festival, when the people of Lyngria gathered in the streets with candles and sang to welcome the dark in hopes that it would take their troubles with it when it receded.

Brayden didn’t put much stock in that, but it was as unique a festival as he’d ever heard of.

Just the description gave him goose bumps.

“You’ll enjoy it,” Flip promised. “Just make sure you get an electric candle, or else one of the no-drip ones so you don’t end up with a burn. Ask me how I know.”

Brayden smiled. “Thanks for the tip.”

Before he could say anything else, there was a knock at the door and Celine poked her head in. “Your Highness, I hate to interrupt….”

Flip didn’t sigh, though his expression suggested he might want to. “No, you’re right. Thank you, Celine. Brayden, I hate to leave in the middle of our conversation again….”

Brayden waved him off. A real-life crown prince had taken time out of his day to eat lunch with him. He could hardly complain. “Go on, I know you have important things to do. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Flip smiled. “Yes, you will.”