Page 31 of Gotta Have Mistletoe

I’m the constant. It’s simple algebra.

Christmas garlands drape from the ceiling, and candlelight flickers from long ruby-colored candles. Glen and Max send wide-eyed glances at the tall, coffered ceiling.

My stomach tightens, and even though the steak knives are the highest quality, they feel ineffective, as if someone swapped them with butter knives.

I want Glen and Max to enjoy themselves, but both Glen and Max look uneasy. I wonder what Olav told him on their etiquette lesson, and I vow to tell Olav to clear my schedule, so I’m available to supervise my guests.

Max frowns at me, and I stiffen. A piece of steak falls from my fork.

“You have a lovely castle,” Glen says hastily.

“Thank you.”

Another awkward silence ensues.

“Why are we here?” Max asks.

“Max!” Glen exclaims.

“I invited your father and you to Solberg to celebrate Christmas with Anders and me.”

Max rises, his chair scraping the stone floor. “May I please be excused?”

Glen sighs. “Yes, Max.”

Max patters out of the room, and Glen turns to me with a tight smile. “I’m sorry.”

I wave my hand in a lofty manner. “No need. We’re all jetlagged. Anders was grumpy today too.”

Anders eyes round, then he places his napkin on his plate. “May I please be excused?”

I inhale.

Anders never asks to be excused. Normally he sits opposite me, sullen and sad.

“You may,” I say.

Anders gives a curt nod, then leaves.

“See, everyone is tired,” I tell Glen.

Glen gives a weak laugh. He glances down at his empty plate. “Guess I better read some of those Norwegian textbooks Olav gave me.”

“I can help you.”

Glen’s eyes soften, then he shakes his head.

“Don’t want to waste your time.” Glen stands. “See you later, Your Majesty.”

I blink. “Goodnight.”

Glen leaves the room. I watch him go. His shoulders are tight, his stride quick, maybe because of his natural athleticism... or maybe because he’s in a hurry.

My throat constricts, and I avoid eye contact with my footmen.

This is what I feared.

A servant arrives shortly after, carrying a platter in his hand. “Your Majesty. I have the almond cake you requested.”