Page 30 of The Royal Art of Revenge

I plug in my camera and load up the SD card. I quickly transfer copies of all the photos to my cloud so I don’t lose any, then flick through them. Every single photo of Crown Prince Finley just hammers my thoughts home.

Not for me.

This place is not for me.

“These are incredible,” he says, leaning over my shoulder. His thumb brushes my hand as he rests his on the table, and I flinch away. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Are these really me?”

I swallow back all the emotions that are rioting through my body and nod. “You’re the only person who’s been behind my camera today. They’re all you.”

“Wow. You really are so talented.”

“It helps when I have such a photogenic subject,” I reply. “Are you always like this, or is today just a particularly good day?”

He laughs close to my ear, and it sends an unwelcome dance of a shiver down my spine. “I think it’s definitely the photographer. I have no idea how we’re supposed to choose from these.”

“I agree,” Oscar says, keeping a little more distance between us. “These are truly excellent, Miss Porter. No doubt that Her Majesty will be very pleased.”

“Ah, I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” I say quietly. “Her Majesty has better things to do than wax lyrical over my photos.”

“No. She loves to sing my praises. I’m her only son after all.”

I turn my head, and Crown Prince Finley grins.

“I’m glad you took extras,” he says, pointing at the screen. “Some of these candid shots are fantastic. They’ll make the social media team very happy.”

“I agree,” a woman’s voice says. “This smiling one—could we possibly see a bigger version of it?”

I double-click the image, bringing it up to fill the screen. It’s one of the last ones we took where he was looking directly at me, smiling. “This one?”

“Yes, that’s perfect. Hm, yes. You have a wonderful eye. It’s not often he’s captured smiling so genuinely, but you’ve caught it perfectly.”

“Thank you very much,” I say, turning my head.

Queen Beatrix smiles at me, warmth making her eyes twinkle.

Oh.

Oh.

“Your Majesty.” The words rush out of my mouth, and I grip the edge of the table to stand and greet her properly.

What is she doing here?

“Oh, please stay seated,” she says. “I’m just here to be nosy. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No.” I clear my throat. “We were just going over the photos to see if we’d missed any or if we needed to do a reshoot for some.”

“Well, they look perfect from where I’m standing. Finley made an excellent decision when he chose you to take these.”

“Thank you. I’m honoured you think so, Your Majesty.”

“That’s that, then,” Crown Prince Finley says. “If my mother has approved them, I suppose all that’s left is to wait for the edited versions so we can choose the final ones to share.”

“Not quite,” the Queen says, stepping away from her position behind me. She walks around the table and eyes me. Her eyes, a darker blue than her son’s, are calculating and sharp, but there’s an edge of softness to her expression as she flicks her gaze over my face.

“Mother?” Crown Prince Finley takes half a step towards me.

“You’re finishing early, yes?” she asks him.