Alexander Lockheart POV

  "—and may the friendship between our kingdoms endure for generations to come."

  Alexander raised his glass, the hall followed, and then it was done. Applause rippled through the ballroom as he stepped back from the podium, bracing himself for what came next. These events were never just about speeches.

  Sure enough, he did not make it three paces before the old king of his neighboring kingdom intercepted him. A woman trailed two steps behind with an expression of disinterest.

  The man was retired and very proud of reminding people of that fact, which meant he spoke freely because he no longer feared consequence. Well, he spoke freely, but he still had tact. Speaking freely was merely an excuse to say what he wanted.

  He'd abdicated years ago, content to let his son handle the crown while he enjoyed his retirement, and now, he smiled at Alexander.

  "Your Majesty. A fine speech. Truly moving."

  "You're too kind, old friend."

  "Not at all, not at all. I was just telling my granddaughter here—you remember her, don't you? She's grown quite a bit since you last saw her—I was telling her how rare it is to see such genuine warmth between kingdoms these days."

  Alexander remembered the little one. She'd been perhaps twelve the last time, hiding behind her mother's skirts. Now she was... what, twenty? Twenty-one?

  "She has indeed grown," Alexander said, because he had to say something, knowing full well where this conversation was going.

  "Quite accomplished too. Enough about her! Your son has performed splendidly, I say! Splendidly!"

  "My son has been busy."

  "So I hear," the old king replied, and he leaned closer as though this were a private exchange instead of a performance for anyone with ears. "Busy enough that my granddaughter has asked me questions. Curious ones."

  Alexander raised a brow. "She is welcome to them."

  "Oh, she has answers," the old king said, and he laughed. "What she lacks is an introduction. One made with intent."

  Behind him, the granddaughter expression flickered with annoyance, quickly smothered by her mask.

  Alexander did not respond immediately, which was enough of an answer. The old king continued anyway.

  "A union would be practical. Youth, talent, bloodlines that would complement one another. It would signal stability."

  "It would signal many things. Some of them premature."

  The old king studied him, and his smile shifted because he understood exactly what Alexander was doing.

  "You are cautious."

  "I am a father," Alexander said.

  "And a king. Very well. I will not press."

  "I appreciate that. If you'll excuse me, I believe Lord Harrington is trying to catch my attention."

  Lord Harrington was doing no such thing, but the old king couldn't call him on it without being rude.

  "Of course, of course. Come, granddaughter."

  They exchanged courtesies and parted without friction, which was the best possible outcome. Alexander fielded questions without stopping because stopping invited more. People congratulated him on Theodore's performance. People asked whether his son would enter future events. People hinted at investments, collaborations, and mutual interests that had not existed a week ago. He answered carefully and revealed nothing of substance, which only made them more eager.

  He was proud, although he would never say that aloud, and the feeling sat awkwardly because it came paired with something else that refused to be named. His son was now acting beyond his expectations, and the world had noticed, which meant the world would not look away again.

  Theodore had changed, that much was obvious.

  Alexander looked across the hall, then past it, then beyond the walls entirely, and the question came without ceremony.

  What was Theodore doing right now?

  ***

  Theodore POV

  "—and then he tripped over his own cape. His own cape."

  The ladies laughed delicately, but genuine enough that Theodore counted it as a win. Lady Rosalind covered her mouth with her fan while Lady Catherine nearly spilled her drink.

  "You're terrible," Catherine said, giggling. "Prince Maximilian couldn't be that clumsy."

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  "I have seen things, my lady. Things that would shatter your image of the man."

  "Speaking of Prince Maximilian, I've heard he's quite... selective. Very focused on his duties." Rosalind said, glancing across the ballroom toward the man in question.

  "Selective? Who told you that?"

  "Everyone knows he isn't the type to pursue romance. He is far too serious, too devoted to his work."

  "Oh, That."

  He leaned closer.

  They leaned forward as well.

  "Ladies," he whispered conspiratorially, "I regret to inform you that this is incorrect."

  Catherine blinked. "Incorrect how."

  "Wildly," Theodore said. "Catastrophically."

  Rosalind frowned. "Are you saying—"

  "I am saying that my brother is actively searching for wives."

  Both of them froze.

  "Wives," Catherine repeated.

  "Yes."

  "Multiple."

  "Correct."

  "No."

  "Yes."

  "No."

  "I am his brother. Would I lie to you?"

  "Prince Maximilian? Are you sure? Multiple wives?"

  "The very same." Theodore nodded solemnly. "He confided in me just the other day. Said he's been searching for the right companions, plural, but alas—" He sighed dramatically. "—the ladies of the court seem to think him unapproachable. Ladies, I am a prince. I am many things. A liar is not one of them,"

  The two women exchanged glances.

  "Well," Catherine said slowly, "if he is seeking companions—"

  "He is," Theodore said.

  "—then perhaps he simply hasn't met the right ladies." Lady Rosalind finished.

  "That is the tragedy of his life," Theodore agreed, glancing at Maximilian across the ballroom, deep in conversation with some minor lord about something undoubtedly boring. Probably grain tariffs. Max loved grain tariffs.

  He looked so peaceful over there. So unsuspecting.

  My revenge will be legendary.

  And this was just the start.

  "You know," Theodore said, as if the thought had just occurred to him, "I wouldn't mind introducing you lovely ladies to him. Put in a good word, perhaps?"

  Their eyes lit up. "You would?"

  "Of course," Theodore said. "I am nothing if not a supportive brother."

  Forgive me, brother, for what I am about to do. Actually, no. Don't forgive me. You started this.

  They crossed the ballroom together, Theodore leading the charge with the confidence of a general marching to victory. Maximilian didn't notice them until it was too late.

  "Brother!" Theodore said warmly. "There you are."

  Maximilian turned, smiled, and then saw the ladies.

  The smile died.

  Theodore's hand landed on his shoulder.

  "Brother! Look who I brought."

  Theodore smiled kindly.

  Maximilian looked at Theodore. Then at the ladies. Then back at Theodore. His eye twitched.

  "Whate are you plotting?" Maximillian whispered.

  "I'm definitely not plotting anything, brother!"

  "Theodore," Maximilian said quietly. "Why are there women with you."

  "Rude. These are people."

  Maximilian's eye twitched. "That's not what I—what are you doing?"

  "I am facilitating," Theodore said.

  "Facilitating what."

  "These lovely ladies were so eager to meet you," Theodore continued, patting Max's shoulder. Theodore stepped aside. "Ladies, this is Prince Maximilian, my brother. He is very busy and very serious and apparently very shy about his search."

  "My... search?"

  "Don't be shy. Ladies, I leave him in your capable hands."

  "Your Highness," Lady Rosalind stepped forward, fan fluttering, "I had no idea you were looking for companionship. You always seemed so—"

  "I'm not—"

  "Multiple companions, even!" She said scandalously.

  Maximilian looked pale. "I'm sorry, multiple—Theodore, what did you—"

  Theodore's smile widened. But Theodore was already walking away.

  He made it exactly seven steps before glancing back over his shoulder. Maximilian's face was a masterpiece of exasperation—trapped between two enthusiastic noblewomen, desperately trying to correct a misunderstanding he didn't even fully comprehend yet.

  Theodore winked.

  Maximilian mouthed something deeply unkind.

  Worth it.

  ***

  The balcony was quiet. Theodore appreciated that.

  The ballroom had gotten stuffy so he'd retreated to watch the capital glitter below. Drink in hand, evening breeze doing its thing, life was good.

  Freya leaned back against the balcony railing beside him, arms crossed, that perpetual almost-smirk on her face. "Had fun with the ladies?"

  Theodore scoffed. "I am uninterested, woman. It was merely for Maximilian."

  "Revenge via aggressive matchmaking?" She examined her nails. "Doesn't seem much like revenge to me."

  Theodore chuckled.

  He did not elaborate.

  What did Freya know about the woes of managing a relationship with multiple women? Especially given how much of a gentleman Maximillian was.

  Nothing, that's what. She had no idea what she'd just witnessed. The seed had been planted. The rumors would spread. By tomorrow, half the noble ladies in the capital would think Maximilian was actively seeking a harem, and the other half would be wondering why they hadn't heard about it sooner.

  Max would spend weeks correcting this.

  Huehuehuehue.

  "You're making a weird face," Freya said.

  "What?"

  "Just now. You looked like a villain who just poisoned someone's wine."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "Uh huh."

  He took a sip of his drink. The capital really was beautiful at night. All those lights, all those people, all those nobles who used to ignore him now desperately trying to get meetings with him. Life had changed a lot in a short time.

  "Come on, I gotta show you something." Theodore said, pushing off from the railing.