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Granted, August and I had a history, but the memory of him was like a dark cloud that lingered, leaving a bitter aftertaste that no amount of time or Irish whiskey could erase. I had unwisely believed, with every fiber of my being, that August was my destined soulmate, my true love always.
I had been dead wrong.
August’s parting words had been that he needed a journey to “find himself.” Yet, as I had scrolled through his social media two weeks later, the only discovery he seemed to have made was a trifecta of pleasures: beers, bongos, and beaches. Not to mention a side order of bongo-filled bikinis. He had been a nomad on a selfish one-year odyssey across South America, his only companions a fancy motorcycle and a worn duffle bag. Each post, each carefree smile plastered across his face in those photos, felt like a dagger twisting deeper into my heart. My giving August another chance?
“Not in a million years,” I muttered to myself.
“And speaking of Kastonia royalty, what about the young and very eligible Prince Caleb?” the TV anchor asked.
My brother sauntered onto the terrace with his apparent attempt at a big sexy smile on his face, then winked at Daphne. “What about me?”
“Just a bunch of gossip and rumors.” I jabbed the pause button on the video with more force than necessary, then handed the phone back to Daphne which she promptly dropped into her Mary Poppins purse. The woman had practically everything you’d ever need in a glorious Hermès Birkin.
Caleb nodded and gestured to her phone. “Who do they have me romantically linked with this week? I would be perfectly fine if it was Daphne, just so you know.”
“We know,” I said in unison with her, then we both laughed.
My brother had made it clear since the tender age of six that he would marry Daphne when he turned eighteen. She had been a good sport about it all these years, even though she had no intention of going out with someone so young.
Undeterred by our laughter, Caleb leaned against the back of the chair with the ease of someone who believed navigating the world was as simple as choosing what you wanted for breakfast. “You know, Daphne, age is just a number. And think about it, with the ten-year gap between us, you’ve got a decade of wisdom on me. You can mold me to be exactly the man you want. I would be a very willing participant.”
Daphne raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching with amusement. “And what makes you think I have the patience to train a young prince? Especially one as unruly as you?”
Caleb’s grin only widened, and he stepped closer, a twinkle in his eye. “The only thing unruly about me is my hair. Besides, I’m a quick learner.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I interjected with a smile. “Otherwise, you would have remembered that our teatime is?—”
“Sacred,” Caleb finished my sentence with a sly smile. “Well then, I shall leave you to your female bonding, but I have to say that I’m quite impressed at how calm you are, considering the latest news about August.”
I blinked. “What news?”
Daphne cleared her throat. “She didn’t watch the entire video.”
My gaze popped back and forth between the two of them. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever is going on in Prince August’s life is none of my concern.”
“So you would be perfectly fine if he were on his way over here right now to win you back?” Caleb asked.
“Wonderful—my brother is a comedian now,” I told him, but deep down, I knew he rarely joked about matters of the heart—or, in this case, political alliances masquerading as potential romances.
Just then, my parents approached us on the terrace, both dressed in their formal attire. Father always looked dashing in his navy-blue ceremonial military uniform with the yellow sash across the chest. And Mother, as elegant as ever in her silk, ivory floor-length dress.
“I don’t recall a formal event on the calendar,” Caleb said.
“And when exactly was the last time you actually looked at the calendar?” Father asked him.
“Hmm . . . What year is it?”
With an amused smile, Mother said, “It’s the diplomatic dinner with heads of state. Then we’ll be heading to France.”
I hesitated, but asked what was on my mind. “Are the rumors true? Are you negotiating with Queen Annabelle to marry me off again? I want you to know that I will not agree this time.”
They exchanged a surprised glance, then my mother shook her head. “Goodness no, dear. We’ve learned our lesson. No more interfering.”
“Your happiness is what matters, not political alliances,” Father added. “It’s your life, your choice.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “I was worried for a moment since Caleb said that Prince August was on his way here right now.”
“Oh, that part is true,” Mother said without missing a beat.
