Page 18

CHAPTER 18

BJORN

T he ceiling in my guest room at Elder Thornberry’s estate had a fascinating water stain.

If I squinted just right, it resembled a unicorn or possibly a lopsided rabbit.

I’d been staring at it for hours, having not slept all night.

The events in the Whispering Woods kept replaying in my mind: the Ley lines shifting back into place, Elder Thornberry’s excited exclamation, and the expression on Rosalyn’s face.

The hurt in her eyes had been unmistakable.

Her formal “Your Highness” was like a dagger to my heart.

Smoke whined sympathetically from his spot at the foot of my bed.

“Yeah, I know. I really messed up,” I said with a sad sigh.

Reaching out with his paw, Smoke batted my leg.

I reached down and gave him a pat, grateful for the support, even though my stomach was twisting with dread.

My bag was already packed.

After returning to the estate yesterday, I’d done my best to avoid the elder’s enthusiastic questions about my royal heritage, pleading exhaustion from the magical work.

He’d been understanding, though clearly bursting with curiosity.

I couldn’t face another day of it, not when each polite “Prince Bjorn” from the elder’s staff reminded me of how Rosalyn had reacted.

The magical task I’d come to accomplish was complete.

The Ley lines were realigned, the unicorns would recover, and Moonshine Hollow would return to normal.

There was no reason for me to stay, especially now that my secret was out and Rosalyn wanted nothing to do with me.

I’d spent half the night writing and discarding letters to her.

Apologies, explanations, declarations.

None of them seemed adequate.

How could I explain that I’d lied to her because I wanted her to see me, not my title?

That, for the first time in my life, I’d felt like myself with her?

That I’d fallen hopelessly in love with her?

Ultimately, I’d burned all the letters in the small fireplace and decided to leave early the next morning.

A clean break would be best for both of us.

Dawn had barely broken when I went downstairs, hoping to speak with Elder Thornberry before departing.

Despite the early hour, the elder was already up, enjoying a bountiful breakfast on his veranda.

“Prince Bjorn!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet with surprising agility.

“What a pleasant surprise! I was just telling my wife about your remarkable magical display yesterday. Please, join us for breakfast.”

“I’m afraid I can’t stay,” I said, bowing politely.

“I came to bid you farewell and express my gratitude for your hospitality. With the Ley lines restored, I must return to Frostfjord.”

The elder’s face fell.

“So soon? But we’d hoped to host a celebration in your honor! The citizens of Moonshine Hollow would love to properly thank their royal savior.”

The thought of being paraded around town as “the royal savior” made my stomach turn.

“You’re very kind, but I must decline. My father will be expecting me.” This wasn’t entirely true—I’d left Frostfjord without specifying when I’d return—but Elder Thornberry didn’t need to know that.

“Well, if duty calls,” the elder said, looking disappointed.

“But you must promise to visit us again. Right, dear?” he asked his wife.

Petunia nodded enthusiastically.

“Moonshine Hollow will always welcome you, Prince Bjorn.”

“Thank you. The town has been…unforgettable.”

From the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of movement.

Emmalyn stood at the edge of the veranda, her expression unreadable.

When our eyes met, she gave me a long, measured look before hurrying away.

Something about her hasty departure made me uneasy, but I had no time to dwell on it.

After exchanging some pleasantries with Elder Thornberry and his wife, I set off for the docks, Smoke trotting dutifully beside me.

The morning air was fresh and cool, laden with the scent of blooming flowers and baking bread.

I tried not to think about how much the latter reminded me of Rosalyn, of her warm smile and flour-dusted hands.

As I reached the harbor, I spotted the riverboat preparing to depart.

According to the harbormaster I’d spoken with late last night, it would be bound for Port Silverleaf, where I could catch a larger ship to Frostfjord.

“Almost out of here, boy,” I told Smoke, who seemed less than enthusiastic about our departure.

The truth was, I’d miss everything about Moonshine Hollow—the magical charm of the place, the friendly townsfolk who’d treated me like a regular person, the unicorns and fairies, and most of all, a certain pixie baker whose laughter had become my favorite sound in the world.

But wishes and regrets changed nothing.

I’d lied to her, betrayed her trust, and now I had to live with the consequences.

I had just reached the gangplank when I heard someone shouting my name.

“Prince Bjorn! Wait!”

Turning, I was surprised to see Winifred hurrying toward me, her enormous hat bobbing precariously as she ran.

Behind her came Emmalyn, clutching her side like she’d been sprinting.

“Don’t you dare get on that boat, young man!” Winifred called, wagging a finger at me as she approached.

Despite being a third of my height, she managed to look impressively intimidating.

“I beg your pardon?” I said, genuinely confused.

Emmalyn reached us, panting.

“Rosalyn,” she gasped out.

“She was going to see you this morning. She was planning to try to work things out.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“She was?”

“Yes,” Winifred said with annoyance.

“And I will not let you sail away like some coward before she can speak her mind.”

“I’m not a coward,” I protested, stung by the accusation even though a small voice in my head whispered that she wasn’t entirely wrong.

“I’m trying to do what’s best for everyone.”

“Best for everyone?” Winifred scoffed.

“Or easiest for you?”

I winced.

The gnome’s words hit uncomfortably close to the mark.

“Look,” Emmalyn said, her breathing finally returning to normal, “Aside from the lying, I don’t know exactly what happened between you and Rosalyn, but I know my friend genuinely cares for you. She deserves a chance to say what she needs to say. You owe her that much.”

“I spoke to her this morning,” Winifred said.

“She was getting ready to visit you at the elder’s estate. If you hurry, you can catch her before she leaves. Don’t leave things like this. Rosalyn deserves better.”

She was right, of course.

Running away without giving Rosalyn a chance to speak her piece was cowardly.

But what if she just wanted to tell me how much I’d hurt and disappointed her?

I wasn’t sure I could bear it.

“Fix this,” Winifred said, meeting my gaze.

Her look was piercing.

“For her…and for you, Bjorn .”

“Yes… Yes, you’re right.”

“Oh! Oh, I know,” Emmalyn said, then reached into the bag Winifred was carrying and extracted…

a book?

Winifred and Emmalyn exchanged glances, both of them smiling excitedly.

“Perfect! Perfect idea,” Winifred told Emmalyn then turned to me.

“Here,” Winifred said, taking the book from Emmalyn and thrusting it into my hands.

“Read chapter fifty-eight.”

“Chapter…chapter fifty-eight?” I looked down at the worn volume, its cover depicting a crown resting atop what appeared to be a pastry.

The title read Crown and Crumpets .

“Right. Chapter fifty-eight,” Emmalyn agreed.

“This is Rosalyn’s favorite book. Read it. You’ll understand.”

Feeling distinctly confused but seeing no other option, I opened the book to the indicated chapter and began to scan the text.

It seemed to be some sort of romantic scene where the male protagonist, a royal lord, finally revealed his true identity—and his real feelings—to the baker’s daughter with whom he’d fallen in love.

After much emotional back-and-forth, he proposed marriage in a grand gesture.

It was, frankly, a bit over-the-top for my northern sensibilities.

Still, as I continued reading, something else caught my attention…

The similarities between Lord Thornwick’s and Miss Beth’s situation and mine were uncanny.

He, too, had hidden his identity, fearing he would never be loved for himself rather than his title, but Miss Beth had fallen in love with him.

“Do you understand now?” Winifred asked impatiently.

I looked up from the book, my mind racing.

“I do,” I said tepidly, and then a broad smile crossed my face.

“I do! By the Nine Gods, I’m an idiot. Where am I going?” I said, gesturing to the boat.

“But I can’t just march up to her bakery and propose like Lord Thornwick, can I? Rosalyn’s probably furious with me.”

“She is,” Winifred confirmed cheerfully.

“She spent the whole night baking Forget Me scones. But she’s also in love with you.”

“She… What?”

“Love, you thick-headed northern fool. She’s in love. With you.”

“Winifred has a unique way of expressing herself,” Emmalyn interjected diplomatically, “but she’s right about Rosalyn’s feelings. And if you feel the same way, you need to show her. Rosalyn is a romantic. This will work.”

Of course I loved Rosalyn.

I loved her warmth, her kindness, and her talent for making everyone around her feel special.

I loved that she saw me as Bjorn, not as Prince Bjorn.

I loved how she’d opened her world to me without hesitation, even when she’d thought I was just a visiting horse master.

“I do love her,” I said simply.

“I do.”

“Well, then,” Winifred said, planting her hands on her hips, “what are you waiting for? Special royal permission?”

Smoke barked his agreement, his tail wagging excitedly.

“But I need to—” I gestured vaguely at myself, suddenly conscious of my travel-worn appearance.

“Wait, I have my ceremonial clothes in my bag.”

Emmalyn’s eyes lit up.

“I know what to do. Come with me. Winnie, don’t let Rosalyn leave. I’ll be back with Bjorn in a heartbeat.”

“Where are we going?”

“Thistle and Thyme, so you can get ready.”

“Leave Rosalyn to me,” Winifred said.

“Come on, Your Highness. We’ve got a royal proposal to arrange,” Emmalynn said, taking me by the arm and pulling me away.

An hour later, I stood outside The Sconery and Teashop, dressed in my formal Rune elf attire: a gray-blue tunic embroidered with silver runes, formal dress trousers, a cloak with fur trim, and the silver torc that marked my royal status.

My hair was neatly combed and braided, and my beard was trimmed, courtesy of Tansy’s quick work with scissors.

I even smelled good, thanks to whatever Juniper had sprayed me with.

In my hands, I clutched an enormous bouquet of moonblush roses and silverstar lilies that Winifred had given me.

I felt ridiculous.

I also felt like I might throw up.

“Stop fidgeting,” Winifred hissed from her hiding spot behind a nearby cart.

“You look like you’re about to face execution, not propose to the woman you love.”

“The two feel remarkably similar at the moment,” I muttered.

“Remember,” Emmalyn whispered from her position near The Sconery’s side door, “sing the song to get her attention, then speak from the heart.”

“Right. Sing.” I cleared my throat, trying to summon the Song of Runeheart, the traditional anthem of our royal house.

The problem was that I’d always been hopeless at music.

Asa used to joke that my singing voice could curdle milk.

But my mother had insisted I learned.

So, even though I sounded like a croaking frog, I knew the tune.

It would be a disaster, but for Rosalyn, I would try.

Taking a deep breath, I began to sing, my voice cracking embarrassingly:

“From ice and stone, our halls were hewn,

“Where northern stars o’er mountains gleam.

“The Runeheart line, steadfast and true,

“Doth guard the realm and shape the dream.

”

Several passersby had stopped to stare, their expressions ranging from curiosity to alarm.

Then, I saw a flash of movement in an upstairs window of The Sconery.

A moment later, Rosalyn appeared, her red hair catching the morning sunlight.

She looked down at me, her eyes widening in surprise.

Opening her window, she looked out.

“Bjorn?” she called, her voice carrying a note of confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“The wind may howl, the sea may rise,

“But still we stand through storm and tide.

“By flame and frost, by oath and steel,

“Our hearts hold fast, our strength our guide.

”

A wide smile crossed Rosalyn’s face as she took in the scene.

“Though far we roam on wind and wave,

“The northern lights shall guide us home.

“In every fjord, our name resounds.

“The Runeheart blood, the sea’s true throne.

”

“Bjorn…”

Now or never.

I abandoned my mangled attempt at the royal anthem and stepped forward, clutching the flowers so tightly I was probably crushing their stems.

“Rosalyn,” I called up to her.

“I came to tell you the truth. All of it.”

Her expression softened slightly, and she sat on the windowsill, her wings catching the light.

“I’m listening.”

“My name is Bjorn Runeheart, third son of King Ramr and Queen Maren of Frostfjord.” The formality of the introduction felt strange after weeks of being just Bjorn, but I forced myself to continue.

“I came to Moonshine Hollow because I was tired of being seen only as a prince, never as myself. I wanted to know if I could be something more than my title.”

I paused, gathering my courage.

“And then I met you. You saw me…just me . Not a prince, not a royal treasury, not a pawn, just Bjorn. And for the first time in my life, I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.”

Rosalyn’s expression was unreadable from this distance, but she hadn’t slammed the window shut, which I chose to take as an encouraging sign.

“I should have told you who I was. I wanted to, especially after…after the cabin,” I said, making the crowd around me whisper, but I continued.

“But I was afraid of losing what we had. In trying to protect myself, I hurt you. For that, I am truly, deeply sorry.

“If you can find it in your heart to forgive me,” I continued, my voice growing stronger, “I promise I will never lie to you again. I promise to be worthy of your trust. Because the truth is, Rosalyn Hartwood, I love you. I love your kindness, your laughter, your talent for making everyone around you feel special. I love that you can make magic with flour and butter. I love that you have a glitter-sneezing caticorn as your best friend. I love you. I love you, Rosalyn.”

A smile tugged at her lips, and her eyes looked glossy with unshed tears.

“I understand if you can’t forgive me. I understand if this is goodbye. But maybe…maybe not. Maybe this is a beginning instead. Maybe…” I took a deep breath, then went for it.

“Rosalyn Hartwood, will you be my princess?”

There was a moment of absolute silence.

Even the crowd that had gathered seemed to hold its breath.

Rosalyn gave me a soft smile.

“No, Bjorn,” she called.

My heart plummeted until she continued.

“I don’t need to be your princess , but I would be thrilled to be your wife, your partner, married to Bjorn of Frostfjord. I love you. I don’t care if you are a prince or not.”

The crowd let out a collective cheer.

Smoke barked excitedly.

“Really?” I called, hardly daring to believe it.

“You forgive me?”

“Yes. I love you, you royal idiot.”

At that moment, Winifred stepped forward, her hands weaving an intricate pattern in the air.

Green vines suddenly shot up the side of The Sconery, twisting and growing at an unnatural speed until they formed a sturdy, living ladder that led to Rosalyn’s window.

“Climb,” Emmalyn urged me, making shooing motions with her hands.

“Just like in the book.”

Winifred casted once more, the spell causing the entire front of Rosalyn’s shop to be covered in bright pink soullock roses.

Rosalyn gasped.

“Go on, Lord Thornwick,” Emmalyn told me.

I hesitated only a moment before tucking the flowers under one arm and climbing up.

The vines were surprisingly sturdy, holding my weight easily as I made my way up to Rosalyn’s window.

When I reached her, she was smiling through tears, her wings fluttering with emotion.

“Oh, Bjorn,” she whispered softly.

“I’m truly sorry,” I told her.

“I know,” she replied.

“Otherwise, you’d never let Emmalyn and Winifred talk you into the Thornwick and Beth proposal scene,” she said then wrapped her arms around me, placing a sweet and soft kiss on my lips.

I nearly dropped the flowers in my eagerness to hold her, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other still clutched the bouquet.

Below us, the crowd cheered.

I vaguely registered Winifred doing something with her hands, and suddenly, a burst of rose petals exploded all around us, tiny pink sparks shooting off into the sky.

Everyone below called out excitedly, whooping and clapping.

When we finally broke apart, Rosalyn grinned at me.

“You do realize everyone in town will talk about this for years, right? A Prince of Frostfjord, climbing up to the pixie baker’s window on a magical vine ladder.”

“Let them talk,” I said, surprising myself with how little I cared about the spectacle we’d made.

“All I want is for you to be happy. As long as you’re happy, nothing else matters.”

Her eyes softened.

“I am happy. I love you, Bjorn.”

“I love you too.”

Whatever challenges lay ahead, my duties in Frostfjord, her business in Moonshine Hollow, the inevitable meeting with my family, we would face them together.

We would make this work because sometimes true love was just as magical as the tales in storybooks.