“I wish you were meeting my father under other circumstances,” I say, leading Jane toward the door leading into the fallout shelter.

She bites her lip and looks up at me. “He’s…”

“Not awake, no,” Rikard says. “So I guess it’s not technically a formal introduction.”

“Sorry, Rikard,” Jane says. “I didn’t mean to―”

“No,” I say. “It’s fine. I would like you to see him, though.”

She smiles.

It’s not so much that I need Jane to see my father lying unconscious in a hospital bed, but more that I don’t trust leaving her with anyone else. If I go in alone, then Jane is separated from me, and if any of General Ekdahl or Siegfried’s stooges are down here with us, they might use Jane to get at me.

I open the door, and we go inside.

The fallout shelter is equipped with medical facilities, and Papa is in one of the bays, hooked up to IVs and monitoring equipment, just like he had been above ground.

Even though he’s still unconscious, he looks...healthier than before.

“He doesn’t look as bad as I feared,” Jane says.

“How do you mean?” I ask.

“Sorry,” she says. “That came out all wrong.”

“No,” I say, grabbing her wrist. “I need an unbiased opinion. What did you mean, specifically?”

“Well,” she says, looking at my father’s still body. “I guess I expected his skin to look grey, but it’s got a lot of color to it, and I feared he might have some drooping on his face as a result of the stroke...but he looks almost like he’s just sleeping.”

I nod. Yes, she’s right. He definitely has more color than before, and he almost looks healthy and strong, like he should be holding a sword in his hands.

“Father,” I say, putting a hand on him. “This is Jane Caswell.” I look up at Jane. “And Jane, this is my father. The King of Nordia.”

“Your Highness,” she says, bowing.

“If you can hear me,” I say, “I met Jane at the castle, just after your stroke. There was an attack...and Jane helped me rescue and free the hostages. We’ve spent some time together since then, and, well…”

I trail off, realizing that Jane still hasn’t given me an answer.

“And,” Jane says, “Rikard will be able to take the throne if something happens to you...decades from now, of course. You’re going to make a full recovery, but I’m ready to become his princess.”

She looks up at me and beams, her eyes sparkling and her hand still clasping my father’s.

I grab hold of her then, pulling her hand away from my father’s bedside, and I squeeze her by the waist. I lean into her, and our eyes meet. Our eyes burn for each other, and there’s no longer any way we can pull away from each other without kissing.

I press into her, squeezing her body as my tongue slides between her full, warm lips. She lets out a low moan, and her fingers dig into my muscular back, clenching me closer to her. I’m hard as the castle walls in an instant, and my thick bulge presses into her soft stomach. I know she can feel it through the tight fabric of her workout clothes.

I drink her in with hunger, letting her feminine scent overwhelm me as I massage her tongue with mine. Everything else in the world fades away, and there’s only Jane.

Until I hear a loud, rattling cough. There’s a gasping for breath, and I hear the steady background beeping of the EKG hooked up to my father intensify.

Jane and I break away from one another, and we look over to see my father coughing, his hand raised up and covering his mouth.

“Father!” I shout, rushing to his bedside and grabbing him by the shoulder.

I hit the button to call the nurses in, and I see my father’s eyes open up and lock onto mine.

He gasps for breath, the coughing fit seemingly over.

“Rikard?” He looks around. “Where the hell are we?”

I look back over at Jane, and her mouth is hanging open.

“Did you hear anything?” I ask. “While you were―”

“Yes, yes,” he says in a hoarse voice. “She is going to marry you, but where are we?”

Jane’s eyes widen at my father’s flippant response to our good news, but she grins, realizing at the same time as I do that he seems very aware of his surroundings. No visible sign of brain damage...at least not yet.

“We’re in the fallout shelter,” I say. “I―”

The door swings open then, and two nurses and a doctor barge in. “Don’t tell him what is going on; he can’t be mentally taxed.”

Father nearly growls at them. “I am the king! I need to know what is happening in my kingdom.”

The nurses and doctor eye each other.

I look over at them. “Run the tests you need, figure out if there’s really a huge risk...he’s the king, and he does need to know what’s happening.”

“Damn it!” my father shouts. “I already know we’re in the fallout shelter, and I’m going to burst a gasket imagining the worst possible situation if you don’t fucking tell me what is happening right now!”

The doctor looks at him with a worried expression in response to the sight of the veins in my father’s head bulging out.

“There was an attempted coup,” the doctor says.

“A coup!” my father shouts.

I lean in toward my father’s ear and whisper, “Don’t shout, or they will treat you like a coddled egg.”

“A coup,” he says, in a flat, even-keeled voice. “Who started this coup?”

I can see the anger swimming just below the surface. I worry that if I tell him the truth, he might actually have another stroke.

I squeeze his shoulder and say, “We’re not sure yet, Papa, but we’re doing our damndest to find the bastards and bring them in.”

He lets out a long sigh, and the doctor says, “We need to run tests now. Would you mind stepping aside for a few minutes?”

“Yes, fine,” he says. “If it gets me out of this bed sooner, do what you must.”

I take Jane’s hand and escort her from the room into the hallway. I can still taste her on my lips, and even though my father just woke up and seems like he’ll be fine―and even though there was just an attempted coup by my cousin, a family member that I thought I could trust―the most astonishing thing that happened to me this morning is Jane agreeing to marry me.

“Did you mean what you said?” I ask. “Or were you just lifting the king’s spirits?”

“What girl doesn’t want to become a princess?” she says.

“You don’t just get to ‘become a princess,’” I say. “You have to marry me.”

She laughs. “Are you saying that’s a bad thing?”

“You might have to marry me sooner rather than later. We need a show of strength after the coup.”

“So, you’re just using me as a political tool?”

“Being a princess can be considered a political tool,” I say. “That’s part of the deal. I have to go public, as well, so it’s not all roses for me either.”

She meets my eyes.

“But, if it means waking up and looking into those eyes every morning, then it’s worth everything.”

She giggles. “Did you rehearse that one, Dick?”

I grin. “It just came to me.”

“If I get to live in the palace,” she says, “then―”

I draw her to me and kiss her again. She can joke about the palace all she wants, but she better be marrying me for me, and for no other reason.

We finally pull away from one another. My heart is racing and my cock is hard again. “If you marry me,” I say, “it needs to be because you want to be with me. Do you understand?”

“Are you accusing me of being a gold digger―or a crown hunter, or whatever it’s called when you marry a prince?”

“No,” I say. “I’m not. But I’m putting very unreasonable time pressure on you to do this, and on the surface it may seem like an easy way to have a good life―an escape from the everyday routine―but realize you’re marrying into a coup and separatist conflict. You’re marrying into this kingdom, and inheriting all of its problems. If we’re to have any chance of surviving all that, we need to do it together, as a couple – partners – and you have to really want to be with me.”

She looks at me seriously for a long moment before smiling and nodding. “I do, Rikard. I want to be with you.”

“Good,” I say. “I needed to know you were serious.”

“So where’s the ring?” she asks, bouncing on her toes.

I scowl at her, and she laughs then. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

“There will be a formal proposal,” I say. “When the immediate crisis is over.”

“Rikard,” she says. “I really was just joking about the ring.”

“I know,” I say. “But I can’t just propose to you like some guy off the street, you realize. There are protocols to follow, and certain people must be present...my father, mother, and sister, for instance.”

She smiles. “That sounds nice, and I’m looking forward to it. Where is your mother, by the way?”

“With parliament,” I say. “Though she’ll be down any minute now that father is awake.”