If I could have Wallace strangled before I made it downstairs, I would. He could fuck off. But Alaric wasn’t here, neither was Corbin, and this was my Galona while they were away. Whatever the crisis was, I had to own it. Solve it.

This wasn’t something a bear shifter solved with brute strength. I had to dig deep and be a prince.

My private elevator carried me to lower corridor and I walked the halls, searching for the biggest pain in my ass.

There had been a wave of change in the palace since my brothers had married. They had turned royal protocol on its head when they choose their wives. Wallace wasn’t taking the changes well. He wouldn’t like it when he found out Gillian was an actress. In his book, royals were meant for royals. There were other who prescribed to his old-school mentality, but my brothers and I were setting our own rules. Paving our own way.

As I opened the door to the library, I dared the old man to say anything to me about Gillian. I wanted her here. She would stay as long as I wanted her to stay in my apartments.

“Your highness.” Wallace rose from the long table.

“Let’s get this over with.” I huffed, meeting him head-on. “I have something more pressing waiting for me upstairs.” I fell into the hard wooden chair. It was hundreds of years old. Probably one my father had used for meetings such as these.

“You’re referring to the American?”

My eyebrows rose. How did he already know about her? Was her accent enough to give her away?

“Call it a diplomatic mission.” I didn’t want to discuss her with him. Things were new. The kiss was still on my lips. I could taste the sweet cinnamon of her tongue. Hear her purr in my ear. I’d rather be there now, experiencing another one.

“Should I tell you what I told both of your brothers?”

“Don’t waste your breath, Wallace. Alaric didn’t take it well and neither will I. Miss Sparks is my guest. That’s all you need to know. While she stays, I want her to be treated as a princess.”

I saw him twist the engraved ink pen in his hand. I wondered if he had the strength to snap it. With the crest of Marquis on the side, he wouldn’t dare.

“Your king wants you to have the memostar.” He sighed, sliding a black leather case in my direction.

“This is Corbin’s.” I stared at it. “You know my role as well as I do. I analyze data. I determine what the best course of action is for our economic plans and budgets. I consult the king. I provide analysis. I don’t need to know everything that’s happening at all times in the country. Corbin and Alaric can worry about that. I’ve never been groomed to be king, Wallace. Let’s not pretend that’s going to change today.”

It didn’t make sense, especially since I hadn’t heard from either of them. No one in the family had said anything about it. Decisions like these took place over months. My weekend in uniform made me feel disconnected and removed from the family. I couldn’t use my cell the entire time. It usually came as a gift. Today, it seemed like it came with a price.

“Prince Corbin has decided it will be months before he returns to Freychon. It’s no longer practical for him to have the memostar. It is the daily companion to the lodestar’s information. It’s crucial to the country’s daily operations for the second in command to have it daily.”

“I know what the fuck it is.” I slammed my fist on the ancient table. “Why hasn’t Alaric called me? He owes me an explanation.” Part of this was family business that Wallace had no right to include himself.

“Your Highness, you were unavailable this weekend when the decision had to be made. The agents tried to return you to the palace as soon as it was possible for the briefing we’re having now. I understand you delayed your return.” He pressed his thin lips together.

I didn’t know if he was trying to condemn me for serving my country, or for defying his demand to return on his schedule.

“Is my military service inconvenient to the crown?” I taunted.

“Never.”

“Good. Then we agree on something.”

The memostar rested in front of me. I knew if I opened it, I would be accepting Pandora’s box. Accepting the responsibility inside it. Accepting I was no longer the kid brother prince.

The question was—was I ready for that?