Page 25 of Royal Resistance

“I never thought he’d be so cute in real life,” Courtney adds with an uncharacteristic giggle.

Diandra winces. “I guess so, but he’s always been like a brother to me, so I can’t think of him like that. He and Duncan are basically joined at the hip.”

“I wish I had a brother with friends like that,” Courtney says.

“Mag hasn’t had the best luck with dating,” Diandra admits.

The easy charm and wide smile flash through my mind, and it doesn’t take long to track him down on the dance floor… completely at ease in the middle of a group of admiring women. “Somehow I doubt that,” I say drily.

“Oh, he has no trouble picking up women.” Diandra laughs. “It’s the relationships that he has trouble with. You must know how it is.”

I do know how it is.

Which is why I agree to meet Magnus the next morning. I tell myself that anyway.

Not that it has anything to do with how his smile makes me feel.

*

“Thanks for meeting me,” Magnus says the next day. We meet in the town square in downtown Battle Harbour. It was an easy walk for me from the slightly rundown hotel we’re staying in.

The way Magnus greets me makes me think I’m here for a job interview.

“Apparently I’m hosting a lunch today,” he adds. “So I don’t have as much time as I would like.”

“If you’re too busy…”

“No, I want to get to know you better,” he says, suddenly serious.

“Why?” I can’t help but ask.

Magnus laughs, and people on the street turn and look at him. They look happy to see him, calling out greetings and waving hands.

Even if I hadn’t been at his party last night, I would know he’s loved by his people.

“I want you to get to know me,” he corrects. “Me and my country. But first—coffee?” he asks, tucking a hand behind my back and turning me in the direction of a coffeeshop. “I’m a big fan of Tim Horton’s, but I have to say, Coffee for the Sole makes a great cup. And they do this thing with foam, make it all rainbow-y. I always stick my finger in it.”

The name of the shop takes on a new meaning when Magnus holds the door for me and I get the full effect of the décor. There are fish everywhere—paintings, and on the dishes, and ornaments hanging in the windows. One wall is covered with paper cutouts of fish coloured by children. There are even nets and lobster traps in the corners. “Oh, sole.”

“Sole, because we’re a fishing village.”

“I see.”

Magnus rushes the counter like a linebacker, and I reluctantly follow. Looking around in amazement while Magnus chats with the couple behind the counter, I’m flabbergasted by both the unconventional décor and the fact Magnus—the king of Laandia—is just walking around his town. Granted, there is a security man waiting at the door and, I suspect, a few outside, but he’s just walking around, like he’s a … a regular person.

My father would never have done that. He never wanted to. The people of Avelaine had respect for my father as a leader, but kept their distance, as if there were a wall and a moat around him.

Magnus hops right over the wall and swims across the moat like it doesn’t even exist, and it’s interesting to watch the dynamic. He’s like no other king I’ve met. No other royal.

He doesn’t dress like a member of the royal family either. Gone is the colourful uniform from last night, which made mountains out of his shoulders and nipped in his waist in a way that had me thinking about sliding my arms around it.

Not that I would have done that. Dancing with him was enough.

Enough to know that being held in Magnus’s arms might be quite a comfortable place.

I shouldn’t be thinking about things like that. Not when Magnus is wearing jeans that have seen better days, and a Laandian hockey jersey that looks like it’s actually been worn in too many games to count.

I hope he changes before his lunch.