There’s nothing like the presence of my asshole father-in-law to ruin what was certain to be the honeymoon both Justine and I deserved. I’d rather spend the next few days with Stephan breathing down my neck than King Max.

Justine doesn’t seem to be taking the news any better. She’s gone pale, and she starts biting her thumbnail—until, like before, she seems to realize what she’s doing and yanks her hand away from her mouth.

“I thought…” She straightens, gathering herself. “I was under the impression that he had some business in Brussels.”

Stephan bows his head, but it’s almost a mocking gesture. “Which, I understand, concluded early. As I said, Your Highness, he’s been here for a few weeks now.”

There’s no good reason for King Maximilian to be here—I thought we’d settled everything between our countries when we drew up the terms for my marriage to Justine. But then I remember the mysterious things happening in the eastern wing of King Max’s palace—and how strange and secretive people have been around me there—and my stomach sinks even deeper. This isn’t good at all.

“I…I think I should probably go see him,” Justine says.

“I’d like to have a few words with him myself,” I growl.

Justine grips my arm, looking up at me with alarm. “Let me handle this. Don’t say or do anything…reckless.”

“I assure you, His Majesty is handling everything himself,” Stephan says.

“I’d still like to see my father,” Justine tells him. “You’ll take me to him now.”

A look of shock passes across Stephan’s face at Justine’s tone—he wasn’t expecting her to have a backbone. I laugh—then hide the sound quickly behind a cough when Stephan glares at me. I’ve spent much of my life antagonizing Stephan—as have most of my siblings—and though he’s one of the most unpleasant people I’ve ever met, I know he has my father’s best interests at heart. And I have bigger enemies to deal with right now.

“Very well,” Stephan says, scowling. “I’ll take you to the receiving chamber. But if Their Majesties wish for privacy, then—”

“I’m sure they’ll grant an audience to their children,” I say, still grinning. “Come on, you old grump. We’re both exhausted and I’d rather get the reunion over with.”

Stephan gives a sniff of disapproval, but then he turns to lead us to our respective fathers.

“After you, Princess,” I say, smiling down at my wife.

She still looks worried—as worried as I feel, deep down—but she offers me a small smile in return before taking my arm and heading down the corridor with me.

When we reach my father’s formal receiving suite, Stephan has already disappeared inside. I’m sure he expects us to wait out here until he gives us permission to enter, but I don’t have the patience for such rules. I push open the door and stride inside, Justine still on my arm.

Stephen spins around at the sound of the door opening, his eyebrows drawn together as he glares at us for our impropriety. Our fathers, on the other hand, show little in the way of emotion.

Which is part of what makes them two of the most terrifying men I know, I think wryly, fighting back another laugh. Though I’d take my father over Justine’s any day.

My father is the first to speak. He rises from his chair—a little more stiffly than he might have before his heart attack, but still quite regally—and says, “Welcome home, Son. What a pleasant surprise. And Princess Justine—your father should have told me you’d be visiting us, too.”

The subtle dig doesn’t escape King Maximilian. The corners of his mouth twitch, but he manages to suppress any sort of actual expression of displeasure. He rises, too. “Daughter. You didn’t tell me you would be coming.”

“I didn’t realize you’d be here,” Justine answers calmly. “You told us you’d be in Brussels. And William wished to bring me here for a little while—I didn’t get to see much of Montovia when I was here before.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you any warning, Father,” I say cheerfully. “I thought I’d surprise Mother.”

“She’ll be delighted, of course,” my father says, almost smiling. Now that he’s over the initial shock of seeing me, he’s not displeased at all—and in fact, I think he’s enjoying the fact that Justine’s presence has obviously unsettled King Maximilian.

I wonder why King Max is so displeased? That’s definitely worth investigating.

“We don’t wish to disturb your meeting,” I say. “We just wanted to say hello. We’ve been on a train all night and should probably go catch some shut-eye. Why don’t we all have dinner later?”

“I’m sure Maximilian would love the chance to dine with his daughter and new son-in-law,” my father says. “I’ll have everything arranged.”

“Wonderful.” I close my hand over Justine’s. “What do you say, wife—shall I show you to our rooms?”

I don’t miss the way King Max’s mouth twitches again at even this mild show of affection. I’m not sure why he proposed this arranged marriage if he was so opposed to the idea of me showing any affection for his daughter, but I intend to get to the bottom of that, too.

Justine’s thoughts seem to be trending in a similar direction. As soon as we’ve left the receiving chamber, her smile falls, replaced by concern.

“I don’t know why he’d lie to me about where he was going,” she says softly, almost to herself. “I mean, he doesn’t normally tell me all the details of his kingly business, but why wouldn’t he tell us he was coming to Montovia?” She starts biting her nail again. “I wonder if Reginald knows he’s here.”

“Do you think it means trouble?” I ask.

“It certainly can’t mean anything good,” she responds. “But maybe…maybe I’m just reading too much into it.”

You and me both. I pull her closer to my side. “Don’t worry—my father knows how to handle himself. He may be dealing with a few health issues, but he can outwit your father any day.” I look down at her. “No offense.”

“None taken.” She smiles, but the worry still lingers in her eyes.

It’s still there when we reach my suite.

“I’m not sure dinner tonight is such a good idea,” she says.

“But it might give us some insight into what your father is doing here,” I say. “I plan on talking to my father later, too. I’ll feel much better once I know what’s going on.”

She nods, but she still doesn’t look entirely convinced. I turn and pull her into my arms, drawing her close.

“We have a long time until dinner,” I tell her, dropping my voice low. “And I plan on doing everything in my power to make you forget about your father until then.”

That hint of a smile returns. “Do you, now?”

“I do.” I let my hand drift up her back, my nails grazing her lightly. “And first things first—I think I’d like to fuck you a third time in this dress.”

That earns me a real laugh. “The poor thing will be in pieces before this is over.”

“If I do my job right.” I grin. “Then we’ll catch up on sleep, grab some lunch, then maybe this afternoon I’ll show you some of my favorite spots in the city. What do you say?”

Her smile widens, and she stands on her toes to throw her arms around my neck.

“I say that this dress suddenly feels very, very hot,” she murmurs. And she pulls my face down to hers.