A week later, Penelope stood beneath the treehouse and tried to look regal and calm, even though what she really wanted to do was wring either her hands or someone’s neck. The treehouse had finally been spotted by the castle’s higher-ups yesterday. Apparently they—whoever they were—were worried that it was unsafe for a king and queen to be cavorting in, and they’d brought in a structural engineer first thing this morning to review it top to bottom before Pen would be allowed back in. The woman and her team were up there right now, muttering and measuring, determining whether or not the project she and Simon had so lovingly created would need to be destroyed.

But truth be told, she was at least a little bit grateful to have this distraction—because the treehouse wasn’t the only thing of hers and Simon’s that could be destroyed soon. The two of them, along with the rest of the whole castle staff it seemed, had done nothing but worry and research for the last week ever since that woman had come forward with the boy she claimed was the former king’s heir. It had been ascertained that she was in fact one of Nathaniel’s old girlfriends, and the timeline for the child’s birth did match up for having been before his abdication. So if he was truly Nathaniel’s son, he could in fact be the new King, and Penelope would get the boot post-haste.

As would Simon. And what would he do then? Stay with her even though it meant giving up yet another home, even though it meant finding less fulfilling work? Or would he leave? If it came down to that, she hoped she would have the strength to tell him to divorce her. She didn’t want him trapped in a life he wouldn’t have chosen just for her sake. She knew how much his work meant to him, how badly he wanted a meaningful role in his service to royalty. The thought of their marriage ending tore at her, had been tearing at her all week, but she was resolute. She wanted him to be happy more than she wanted herself to be happy—and in a way, that only made things worse, because it meant she had fallen in love with him just in time to give him up forever.

“Are you almost done?” she shouted into the treehouse. Her voice sounded frayed and snippy to her own ears. Regal and calm, she reminded herself, and tried to moderate her tone. “I’d love to hear any updates.”

“Just a few more minutes. Your Majesty,” called the irate structural engineer without even looking up from her work.

Pen frowned. She’d heard that pause before Your Majesty. She doubted it had been intentional, but the claims of a surprise heir had made everyone uncertain lately. That was why her coronation had been delayed too. She could only hope that the castle’s agents found Nathaniel—who was rumored to be off cavorting in some nudist colony in the Swiss Alps now—quickly, so they could perform a DNA paternity test on the child and get Pen’s life out of limbo. The toddler and his mother had already been secreted away in another wing of the castle until the matter was settled.

Her fingernails dug into her palms and she started pacing in hopes of working off some of her anxiety. Funny how not too long ago she would’ve been thrilled to be booted from the throne. Now, the prospect of losing her post as Queen felt like her whole life was slipping through her fingers.

The ladder creaked as the engineer descended. Pen marched over to meet her and waited, forcing herself to keep her chin lifted and meet the woman who would decide her treehouse’s fate eye-to-eye.

The woman dusted off her hands. “Looks okay,” she said in a grudging tone, and everything in Penelope soared. It was a sign. It was a good omen, it had to be. If the treehouse could emerge unscathed, maybe she could too. “But,” the engineer continued, holding up a hand, probably sensing Penelope’s intent to spontaneously hug her, “when you’re building in higher trees like this one, you’ll need to make a few extra modifications for stability. My team will take two or three days to fix it up and do final checks and then you should be good.”

“I want to see the blueprints,” Pen said immediately. She hoped to sell this treehouse through her toy store. If it needed alterations for higher trees, she’d have to put a kit together for that purpose to go with the treehouse plans.

The woman hollered at a team member and soon Pen was poring over the designs, marking down notes and planning the best approach for her kit. By the time the engineer’s team finished for the day and left, Pen was satisfied she could make the treehouse safe for both low and high trees when she sold the final product. Feeling better than she had all week, she turned to head back to the castle.

Kicked up by her toe, something metallic flipped through the grass. She bent down to examine it. A grin broke over her face when she recognized Simon’s ring, and she scooped it up as gently as if it were a baby bird. He would be so thrilled to have this back. He’d been wrapped up in his research lately, coming to bed late and barely having any time to so much as talk to her, but maybe this could break him away from his worries at least a little.

She turned to head toward the castle again, intent on dragging Simon out of his library cave by force if need be, but spotted him walking toward her before she’d even taken a single step. Her smile widened. Yet another good sign. “Simon!” she shouted, waving her hands to get his attention.

He spotted her and strode over, a grim look on his face. “They found out about the toy store,” he said before she could tell him the good news.

She blinked as the words sunk in. “What do you mean?” she asked hesitantly, dreading his answer.

“Parliament found out you still own it. They also found out about all the toy patents.”

“But I got those under a pseudonym! How could they even find them?” she protested, and then flushed. She’d used an assumed name because it made her feel less vulnerable if the toy designs didn’t sell or had some flaw she hadn’t discovered, but when Parliament found out it must’ve made it seem like she was trying to go behind everyone’s backs to make secret profits.

Simon saw her thoughts play out across her expression and nodded. “They’re discussing now whether you broke any ethics codes, but to be honest, whether or not they find any grounds to accuse you of formal violations—which they probably won’t—it still casts more doubt on your loyalty to your position as Queen and your stance on education reform.”

Everything in her wilted. “But… we were going to make it so I didn’t profit from the sales anymore, so that everything would go to charity,” she whispered.

Simon put an arm around her shoulders. After days of minimal contact with him, the gesture made her feel a little warmer, but even that couldn’t calm the storm of sick anxiety in her stomach. “I started the process, but it takes time,” he said, “especially with everything else that’s been demanding my time this last week.” He finally spotted her hand, still fisted around his ring. “What do you have there?”

All the joy of the moment drained, she opened her hand and offered it to him. “I found your ring,” she told him, her tone lifeless. As soon as he took it, she turned and started toward the treehouse’s ladder. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m going to be good company this evening,” she told him. “I need some alone time to process all this. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”