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It would be led by Alexei, with four other contractors in the mix, and Armin was very close to feeling on top of the world. This had been a long time coming. But he had done it.
It was down to his signature on the papers.
In the corner of the room, the royal photographer snapped photos. Normally, a meeting like this wouldn’t be an occasion to photograph, but Armin had wanted her there. His brother Rafael, the king, sat at his side at the meeting table, lending the whole meeting an extra aura.
Mr. Klemen sat to Rafael’s left, and the man was beside himself with the attention Rafael was paying to the relatively young contractor. Armin could see sweat gathering at Klemen’s brow even as he answered Rafael’s careful questions and Armin signed on several dotted lines.
“—a wonderful way to apply your talents,” Rafael was saying to Klemen.
“How could anyone pass this up?” Klemen gestured at the rest of the table. “Among this crowd, I might as well still be in school. It’s an incredible honor.”
It hadn’t been such an incredible honor when Armin had initially proposed making life better for orphans, but he let the comment pass. What mattered was that he had three men and two women sitting at the table who would make his vision a reality. That reality could come none too soon for the children who needed the orphanage’s services.
Mihailo cleared his throat, glancing between all of them. “Prince Armin, I’ve heard tell that there may be more than one cause for celebration today.”
It was to be a celebration. Armin had had bottles of champagne brought in for all of them to toast with when the papers were signed. He himself would not appear in any of the photos of the contractors all together—he’d made certain that the only photographs would be of him signing the contracts, available in the public archive. But as much as he wanted to improve his image, he wasn’t going to take all the credit for the work that this team would eventually do.
Mihailo’s words registered in his brain. “More than one?”
The way the man beamed at him made him wish it would stop.
“I’ve heard that you’ve become quite close with a certain lady.”
Armin froze in the middle of his final signature. He stared across the table at Mihailo, the silence ballooning around him until even Klemen realized something was wrong.
“A certain lady?” Armin repeated, his voice flat and cold.
Mihailo nudged the man next to him, who nodded his agreement. “We’ve both heard the news, Prince Armin.” It was as if they were waiting for an admission…or for Armin to say it was all a joke. Something they could have a good laugh about.
“What news?” asked Rafael jovially. “Have you been keeping something from me, brother?” The look he gave Armin was meant to reel him in, to make this moment less uncomfortable, but
it wasn’t working.
“I’m curious to find out myself.” Armin scrawled the last of his signature on the line and put the pen down with a hollow thud.
“Come now, Prince Armin.” Mihailo seemed to have realized he’d stepped onto shaky ground, but he was already out in the middle of it, all eyes on him, with no room to retreat. “Surely you’ve heard of your own nanny?”
“I’m shocked, Armin. You’ve never said a word about her.” Rafael’s tone was meticulously light.
“That’s because it’s not true.” Armin looked around at each of the people at the table in turn. Klemen was the first to drop his eyes to the tabletop. It was palpably uncomfortable in the room, the air so thick Armin could hardly breathe.
Rafael rapped his knuckles on the table. “Is everything signed, then? We should celebrate!”
A chorus of relieved agreement filled the table. The photographer held her camera low, not daring to take a photograph as everyone stood up.
Armin stood up woodenly, heat rushing to his cheeks even as he struggled not to let anything show. Rafael leaned in close. “I sympathize, brother,” he said quickly. “But perhaps now isn’t the best time to appear…”
“To appear like what?” he said through clenched teeth. “Irritated that the city is spreading false rumors about me?” It stung, to lie about his feelings for Katie like this. It stung more than he had anticipated to hide the truth from his brother. But the battle between his competing interests roared. He had to protect his reputation, protect her—and protect the girls. But it tasted bitter to call what they had a fake.
“One, two, three,” said the photographer. Behind the two men, up against a wall that had a framed oil painting of a map of Stolvenia, the contractors had gathered for a photograph. The camera clicked and flashed. “Very nice,” she said.
“Armin, you’ve done good work here,” Rafael said softly. “Don’t let this ruin the moment. It’s an innocent rumor.”
“Are rumors ever really innocent?”
Rafael narrowed his eyes. “Is there something else you’re not telling me?”
There was something else. Of course there was. But he already knew that Rafael was in the dark about what their eldest brother, Eduard, had done.
