Page 67 of The Prince and the Puck

His breath tickled my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. But I had to agree with him. They did look regal standing there together as the crowd cheered their welcome to Celeste.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch.

With so many people gathered on the royal lawn, I wasn’t sure I had ever seen so many Murdan citizens in one place—except maybe in videos of King Erik’s coronation.

Families and children romped and played, vendors lined the streets near the palace selling lemonade and ice cream, and it was a lighthearted, glorious afternoon.

I kept a close eye on the palace’s social media accounts, which filled with photos and gleeful posts made by participating citizens.

That evening, Declan invited me to join his family for an early supper.

“Of course you’ll go,” my mother told me when I asked her whether it was appropriate. “You don’t refuse an invitation from the royal family.”

“It’s only… I think Declan might expect something.”

“Expect something?” she asked. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. I just… I don’t know what we are, where we stand. I don’t even know if I have a job anymore, now that Neel’s gone.”

“We have plenty of time to work all these things out,” she said. “For now, go enjoy your success from today. And have dinner with the man you love.”

“Mom, I never said?—”

It felt silly to deny it.

I did love Declan.

I just didn’t see how a real future was possible for us.

There was such an immense chasm between our places here in Murdan.

“Well done,” said the king, toasting his sons at dinner.

“Well done, indeed,” said the queen, smiling at all of us around the table. “What a wonderful day. And who knew that what our citizens really needed was just a day of play?”

“Lambert knew,” Declan said, smiling at his older brother.

“Well, Lambert would know about play,” the king said, his voice taking on a stern tone.

I knew that meant we still had work to do. But I wasn’t worried.

The way the queen and king had embraced Celeste—who sat quietly at Lambert’s side as we ate—suggested they were open to seeing their older son in a new light.

“Son, how did the fittings go?” the queen asked Declan.

Declan hesitated, and I realized—he hadn’t gone to his fittings.

“Yes, well, Mom… I thought we might delay those a bit.”

“Whatever for?” The queen looked distressed and put her fork down.

“I just don’t feel ready,” Declan said.

The queen frowned but relented. “I can try to reschedule for next week, I suppose. Will you be ready then?”

“Yes. Next week would be good. Late in the week.”

“Fine,” the queen said, taking a sip of wine. “I’ll try for Thursday.”