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“The Prince doesn’t seem to think so,” I reply, failing to keep the bitterness from my voice.
Vikki laughs. “He’s like that. It takes a while to get on his good side, but once you do, he’s very loyal. He’d go to war for the people he loves.”
“The only one he’s loyal to is his dog.” I snort, shaking my head. “I basically have to start over from scratch. I was only here to get a few photos and details from the archives, and now I probably have six months of work to redo.”
Vikki crosses her arms, still staring at the screen. She spins around to look at me, a hopeful smile on her face. “I can show you around if you want. I’ve lived here since I was a little girl. I know every corner of this palace.”
I straighten up. “You’d do that? You don’t have to work?”
“Showing you around is the perfect excuse not to do it.” Vikki winks. “Come on. What would you like to see first?”
I bite my lip. “The library, I think. I’d like to look at the archives.”
Vikki jerks her head to the door. “It’s just down the hall.”
As we start walking, Vikki tells me about every king and queen with portraits hanging on the walls. She tells me when each rug was bought, and who designed the dozens of chandeliers that throw the whole palace into a soft, glowing light.
We get to a tall, hardwood door with intricate inset panels, and Vikki gives me a bright smile. “I love this room.” She pushes the door open, and I gasp.
Gorgeous.
Floor-to-ceiling books. Plush sofas. Massive windows. I walk over to the window, staring out at the white countryside.
“It’s gorgeous in summertime,” Vikki says, standing beside me. We look out at the white expanse. “Teeming with life.”
“It’s beautiful now, too.” My voice is soft.
“Wild and unforgiving. Makes me appreciate being inside these walls and not out there.” She smiles. “Have you seen the visitor’s cottage?” She points across the barren snow-covered meadow to a tiny lodge in the distance. “It used to be the main residence before the palace was built. If you want to see true heritage and history, that’s the place to do it. They say the old kings used to hold court there. The ceiling is still stained black from soot above the old hearth. Every time I go there, I get chills.”
My eyes widen. “No one told me about that. It wasn’t in the brief. I love old buildings.”
Vikki’s face breaks into a smile. “I’ll take you, but we might have to wait for the storm to pass. They say it’ll only get worse. We’ve had a bit of respite today, but it’ll be whiteout conditions within a couple of hours out there. Be the same for the next week or so. It’s not safe to go that far.”
Vikki laughs when I pout. She jerks her head to a door at the far end of the room. “Come on. I’ll show you the archives instead.”
She leads me through the door and into an intimate, dim space. It smells like old books, and I immediately feel at home. One wall is covered in bookshelves, while the other has a row of filing cabinets. Vikki points to an old, clunky computer on the desk to our right.
“The password is password123. You can log in and view the digitized archives or search for what you need.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very secure password.” I grin.
Vikki laughs. “The last person who was in here was a historian from Cambridge University about fifteen years ago. We’re not hiding anything. Nobody really cares about this place outside of Nord.” She gives my arm a quick squeeze. “I’d better get back to work. If you’re not in the dining room by seven, I’ll have them send your dinner here.”
“Thank you.” I give my new friend a soft smile, glad to have found someone who seems nice, for once. She hasn’t once made me feel like an unwelcome outsider with silly ideas about the palace redesign. Vikki walks out of the archive room, and I do a slow turn, inhaling deeply.
Then, I get to work. The archives are a treasure trove of information that I could have used for my preliminary designs. I look through old plans and read about the history of the place, from its first construction a few hundred years ago to the various restorations that have happened since.
Before I know it, my back aches and it’s dark out. A knock sounds on the door, followed by a butler with a tray laden full of food. I thank him and inhale my dinner, turning once again to the old book I’d been reading.
Books are a time warp. I don’t know how much time passes when I jerk upright at the sound of a deep, masculine voice. “They told me I would find you here.” The Prince looks at me through hooded eyes. He stretches his arms over his head as he leans against the doorway.
My eyes drift down to a little strip of exposed skin at his hips. Yum.
Then, the Prince reaches for my dinner tray, grabbing an untouched bread roll and tearing a piece off. “Have you found what you’re looking for?”
“More.” I can’t help smiling. I know I should keep my distance. I know he’s dangerous. Spoiled. Royal. But this room fills me with a deep well of excitement. I have ideas. A thousand of them, springing up from somewhere deep. Instead of the glass turrets, I want to restore the old wings that extended in a big U-shape and recreate the original courtyard that existed here a century ago.
But when I open my mouth to tell the Prince, I see his hard eyes. His sharp, angular face. His mistrust. The words die on my lips. I gulp, watching him swallow the last of my dinner roll. “I was going to eat that.”
