She hesitates, then shakes her head. “I can’t just skip it.”

“Why not? You weren’t actually invited. No one’s expecting you to be there—except Carter, who doesn’t really count. If anything, your presence there might be a distraction—you want the visitors to be focused on the gallery, not some visiting princess, right?” She starts to argue, but I cut her off. “Either way, we don’t have to decide anything right now. The opening isn’t until tomorrow, so we can decide then. Tonight, I want to sweep you off your feet.”

She crosses her arms and gives me a wry look. “Oh really, Your Highness?”

“I’m not one to shy away from a challenge.” I grin. “Come on—if I’m remembering correctly, there’s a lovely restaurant just around the corner. You must be starving—when was the last time you had anything to eat?”

“Well, I…” She shakes her head. “I did eat breakfast—”

“Hours and hours ago. Have you had anything since?”

Her expression belies anything she might say. I imagine she’s completely ravenous, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.

“Come,” I say, gently taking her arm. “We can just order appetizers, if you like. Just something to tide you over.” Of course, I have every intention of wooing her into a four-course meal—and drinks afterward—but we need to take this one step at a time.

“I…I guess I could do something small,” she says. “But I don’t want to go anywhere fancy. I’m not exactly dressed for it.” She looks down at her clothes—like me, she’s still in the same thing she was wearing when I pulled the fire alarm. It’s slightly wrinkled from the wear and tear it endured today, but I still think she looks beautiful.

“We’re royals,” I remind her. “We could show up in burlap sacks and they’d treat us well.”

“Maybe. But I’m not sure I want that kind of attention right now.” She glances around. “Can’t we just find a little shop or food stall or something?”

“If my wife wishes it,” I say, my grin widening as I bow. “Tonight you get whatever you desire.”

She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth tilt up—she’s fighting a smile. “You’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?”

“That’s the plan. Insufferably charming and attentive.”

I can see the exact moment she decides to trust me, the moment she lets the last of her uncertainty and fear melt away. The moment she decides to forgive me for my jealous stupidity and embrace what could be, if only for tonight. It happens bit by bit—a relaxing of her shoulders, a hopeful glow in her eyes, and finally, a slow but genuine smile.

I feel something unfurl in me, too, in response to her growing openness. And I feel more connected to her now, watching her decide to trust me, than I ever have before.

She reaches her hand out, taking mine.

“Okay then, Prince Charming,” she says warmly. “Let’s get some food.”

I lead her down the street. This isn’t quite what I had in mind for our date, but I’m just grateful she agreed to this at all. Baby steps.

Fortunately, within two blocks we stumble across one of the city’s famous Christmas markets—stalls upon stalls of food, crafts, and other goods set up in the square in front of a church. It looks similar to the one we enjoyed in the Hall last week, only four times larger. When I remember how much Justine and I enjoyed ourselves there—at least before I punched James Camden—I realize the universe has given me a second chance. And if the universe can, why can’t Justine?

“What’ll it be?” I ask her as we head into the crowd. “Sausages? Pretzels? Soup?” A spicy scent drifts by on the cool breeze. “We should definitely get some of that mulled wine.”

Justine doesn’t immediately answer. But when I look down at her, worried, I find her glancing around excitedly, her eyes bright. I had a large lunch with Sophia and Nicholas, and even I am pleasantly overwhelmed by the delicious smells here. Justine is practically drooling.

Suddenly, she springs into action, grabbing my hand. “This way.”

I’m only too happy to let her lead the way through the crowd. She drags me right over to a stall of sausages.

But we don’t stop there. Within an hour, we’ve tried multiple sausages, kartoffelknödel, spätzle, and some stollen cake. We’ve also each had a mug of mulled wine and a couple of pints of beer.

As we munch on a bag of candied nuts, Justine leads me over to a small fountain at the edge of the square. We sit on the edge and watch some musicians play as the crowd laughs and dances and moves through the stalls around us.

Justine is in a much better mood now that she’s eaten—and I’m sure the alcohol has helped, too. The mulled wine is much stronger here than it was in Rosvalia, and on top of the beer, I’ve got a nice, pleasant buzz going. I lean back on my hands, pretending to watch the crowd but secretly sneaking glances at my wife.

A look of pure pleasure crosses her face as she pops several more nuts into her mouth. It strikes me, suddenly, how little pleasure she must see on a day to day basis—between her family and her duties to her country, she has little chance for fun. Few opportunities to do something solely for herself. In a way, she reminds me of my brother Andrew—so dedicated and determined, yet so afraid of letting go, even for a moment.

I want to be the pleasure in her life. I want to bring her joy and fun—not more duty and pain.

The sun has set beyond the buildings, but there are still plenty of lights here in the square. The warm lamplight shines off Justine’s hair and brings a golden color to her cheeks. She always looks beautiful to me, but there’s something especially enchanting about her now.

She turns and offers me the bag of nuts, her eyebrows raised in a question. I shake my head and pat my stomach. “I’m full, but thank you.”

“I can’t believe I can out-eat you,” she says, still smiling.

“Well, I did have most of the stollen.”

“These are way better than the stollen.”

“Good thing I’m such a generous husband, then. Prince Charming always makes sure his Princess gets the very best.”

She laughs. God, it’s such a beautiful sound. I could listen to it all night.

“You’re funny,” she says. “But perhaps not as funny as you think you are.”

“Says who?”

She laughs again, then finishes off the rest of the nuts. I look up at the sky. There’s too much light pollution to see more than a handful of stars, but I know they’re there.

“Well then, Prince Charming,” she says teasingly. “Where to next?”

I’m so surprised to hear her suggest we continue our date that I almost tumble backwards into the empty fountain. “Wherever you like, Princess.”

“So you’re leaving all the hard work of planning this date to me, is that it?” she says, her tone still light and teasing.

“Not at all.” I grab her hand. “I just want to make sure my wife gets whatever she desires.” I raise her hand to my lips, kissing her gently on the back of her knuckles. I feel a shiver move through her skin, and she quickly yanks her hand out of mine.

“Well,” she says, leaping to her feet. “Let’s go, then.”

I smile as I rise. She’s still fighting this connection between us, but her defenses are slowly going down. I take her hand and lead her back into the crowd.

As we pass by the small stage with the musicians, though, I twist and pull her into my arms, spinning her around to the music. She falls right into step, never missing a beat as I twirl her. Her laughter rises over the music.

“Dancing won’t work on me every time,” she says, her eyes bright.

“Won’t it?” I grin and spin her again. The crowd is so thick that she bumps into someone else, but that just makes her laugh even harder.

“Watch it,” she teases. “You can’t just throw me into people.”

“That was entirely your fault, Princess.”

“Was it, now?”

When I step on the foot of a man passing by, she breaks into giggles again. “That was definitely your fault.”

“Nonsense. That man purposefully got in my way.”

“Maybe you just aren’t as graceful as you think you are.”

“Graceful? Men are never graceful. We prefer to be called athletic, or—”

“Aw, did I hurt your ego, Prince Charming?”

She’s still laughing, so as revenge, I spin her again. She narrowly avoids a couple of children, but she catches herself before tripping over them. She gives me a look that tells me she blames me for that one, too, and I realize I’m laughing as much as she is.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Or the delicious food. Or simply the infectious, festive spirit of this Christmas market. But I feel as if our cares are far away, as if every rough moment Justine and I have experienced since we married is long in the past. This, right here, is real. And it’s pure joy.

Finally, we’re forced to admit that this crowded space in front of the musicians isn’t exactly conducive to dancing—at least any dancing that requires anything more than bobbing in place. Hooking my arm through hers, I pull her out of the crowd and toward the edge of the square.

We stumble down the street, still laughing as we cling to each other. When we get to the corner, I realize I have no idea where we are—or where the hotel is from here. I should probably call a taxi, but I’m not even sure I remember the name of the hotel right now.

And I’m not even sure I want to go there, anyway.

“Well,” I say, stopping and turning to her. “The night is still young. Perhaps we can find a little coffee bar and drink the hours away. Or perhaps…”

Her eyes shine up at me. “Perhaps what?”

“Come away with me,” I say abruptly. “Somewhere far away, where we don’t know anyone else. Somewhere just the two of us. We never did have a proper honeymoon.”

I can almost see her defenses go up again. There’s still the shadow of a smile on her lips, still a brightness in her eyes, but she’s more guarded now. Have I pushed her too far?

“I…I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she says.

“Why not? Surely two newlyweds can take a few days to themselves and get to know each other a little better. We’ll charter a plane. We can go anywhere—the Swiss Alps, or somewhere in the Caribbean, or a resort in Bali. Just say the word, and I’ll take you there.” I cup her face, tilting her chin up. “I want to do this right, Justine. I want to be your Prince Charming. But you have to let me.”