Page 25 of The Princess Trap

Perhaps it was a blessing that his phone rang at that juncture. Or at least, that’s what Ruben thought, until he realised who must be calling.

Hans stared at Ruben’s jacket, where the chirping ringtone emanated from, like there was a bomb hidden in the silk lining. Ruben, unsurprisingly, shared the feeling.

“You’d better answer,” Hans said, “or it’ll ring out.”

And then the king will lose his shit with all the grace of a machine-gun-toting toddler. And everything will be a million times worse.

“Right,” Ruben said grimly and fished out his phone. Hetook a second to collect himself before he answered the call. He’d probably still fuck up, though. His brother had that effect.

Resigned, he brought the phone to his ear and said, “Ambjørn.”

“You do that purely to irritate me. It’s pathetic.” The voice was a deep baritone, the kind that should’ve been soothing. It went through Ruben like nails on a chalkboard.

“Believe it or not, brother, not everything about me is designed solely to disappoint you.”

“If that’s true, why do you insist on calling mebrother?” The King of Helgmøre sneered the word. “Provincial to the end. If bonds matter so very much, then please, use the correct term.”

Ruben bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Half-brother? Bit of a mouthful.”

“Then I suggest you stick toYour Majesty.” King Harald’s words were whip-sharp. So sharp, Ruben thought he felt the ghost of his brother’s switch against his calves. Even servants were pressed, charmingly, to call the kingHarald—though of course, they never would. But Ruben wasn’t a servant.

In his brother’s eyes, he wasn’t a person at all.

“Your Majesty,” he gritted out. “Oh, great one, how may I serve you?”

“You may serve me,” Harald said, “by explaining your latest disgrace. According to the media, you are engaged.”

And Ruben, memories suffocating him and hatred burning like acid in his veins, said with utter nonchalance, “Yep.”

Beside him, Hans stiffened.

His brother expelled a noisy breath, like a dragon preparing to lay waste to some village. “And this is the first I’m hearing of it,because?”

“I understand your concern, Harald. You and I are so close, after all.”

“I am the head of this family, and you are lucky to be acknowledged at all.” His brother’s voice was a venomous hiss.

He could picture the exact expression that went along with this particular tone: lips peeled back from teeth as though they were fangs, blue eyes narrowed dangerously in a way that still set Ruben on edge. Still made him anxious. Still reminded him of days when he’d been so much smaller, and his brother had seemed like a mountain.

But he was the mountain now.

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, what the fuck do you want?”

“Careful boy. Whoever this woman is—itisa woman, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Ruben said stiffly. “She’s a woman.”

“Thank Christ. You’re not a complete idiot, then. Whoever she is, I have not agreed to the match.”

“I wasn’t aware that I required permission to marry, Your Majesty.”Lie.

“You require my permission to breathe. Count yourself lucky that you still have it.”

Ruben clenched his teeth so tight, his jaw clicked with a burst of pain. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Because the one thing he absolutely would not do was give his brother the satisfaction of a response. Harald hated silence. When he spoke, what he wanted, more than anything, was a reaction. So, once the quiet stretched out and Ruben held his tongue, it was the mighty king who broke first.

“Well,” Harald said finally. “At least this one’s cleverer than the last.”

Ruben swallowed, his own rage souring his throat. “What do you mean?”