Page 37 of Royal Resistance

Duncan gets to see his private side as well. And Diandra.

Not for the first time, I wonder about his relationship with Duncan’s sister. It doesn’t worry me, perhaps because I don’t let it.

I’m not sure if I’ll ask him about it.

I follow Magnus out of the dining room. He leads me down the hall on the first floor to the back of the castle.

The castle was built in the sixteenth century—or so Magnus says. He doesn’t really know.

The way he tries to remember is… sweet. Like he’s making an effort for me.

I did my own research.

Ragger the Red built the castle in 1588, after he united the various bands of Vikings who had come to what was then Canada. He set himself up as jarl and ruled the bands with an iron fist.

He was killed by his wife, three years after the castle was finished. I don’t think that is common knowledge. If it is, Magnus was definitely not about to tell me that part of the history.

He stops at a closed door. “I thought you could have this as your own space,” he says as he pushes open the door.

I glance around the room. It’s definitely a… space.

It also doesn’t look like it’s been touched in years. “It was my mother’s sitting room,” Magnus adds, a note of apology in his tone.

The family must have shut off the room when she passed. Dust covers everything, with a massive cobweb hooking the chandelier to the curtains.

“It will have to be cleaned,” he says. “I’ll ask the maids to do it… if you like it.”

Blue wallpaper with a pattern of huge gold and pink hibiscus marching up the wall. It has a faint metallic sheen, even through the dust. The furniture matches the pink—stripes, with white and blue cushions that have seen better days. I’m not sure what era it came from, or even what decade. “Thank you,” I finally manage. “I can speak to the girls about giving it a good clean.”

“And clear out the furniture so you can decorate how you like.” He chuckles at the expression of relief that crosses my face. “I didn’t really think it was your style.”

“Not really, no,” I admit.

“But it’s a good space. Big windows, lots of sunlight. The fireplace is great when there’s not. Chairs and a couch to entertain your friends.”

I have no friends. I don’t know anyone in Laandia yet, except Magnus and Duncan. Even Diandra doesn’t live in Battle Harbour full-time.

“You could have a desk over there,” Magnus points to where a dainty, too-small writing table sits in the corner. “For your work.”

“I don’t have any work.”

“Yet.” I shrug. “Selene, I told you I need help. And you’re the person that I kind of thought would help me.”

“What about Duncan?”

“Duncan does seem to have a grasp on how to manage the country. Much better than I do,” Magnus admits.

“He’s very good at this.”

“Being a king?”

“Helping you. You move in sync.”

“I didn’t marry Duncan. I’m trying to give you time to get to know the castle. Get to know me. But I need you to help manage me.”

I can’t hide the smile. “I don’t think you really want to be managed.”

“I want something. I need something… guidance, maybe? Instructions? What you’ve been doing, but more. Because I’m honestly worried about messing up every time I open my mouth in public. Private too. And if I’m horrible at this king stuff, then—”