Princess Ever After

TWENTY-SEVEN





A bonfire crackled and blazed, the flames high and hot, on the back acre of Daddy’s property. Reggie sat in a folding chair between Sadie and Carrie, listening to Jeb Cartwright’s bluegrass band, watching the gathering crowd.

“Thanks for doing this, Sadie.”

“Reg, please. We can’t let you go without some sort of send-off. I wish we had time to do more.” Sadie reached through the darkness and squeezed her hand. “Going to miss you around here, girl.”

“I’m going to miss being here.”

“But we’ll come over for Christmas,” Sadie said, popping her hands together. “Won’t it be beautiful?”

Clarence made his way toward her, looking casual in jeans and a sweater, not like a royal security officer. Every so often he made a sweep of the party, making sure everyone was safe.

“Clarence, sit down,” Sadie said. “You’re in the South. Reg is more than safe. I guarantee you every man here and most of the women have a gun tucked up in their car or truck.” She stood, scanning the crowd. “There are no less than three police officers here.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but it’s my job to keep watch over her. Those officers won’t be the one answering to the king or the people of Hessenberg.” Clarence pulled his folding chair around behind Reggie.

As odd as it sounded to hear a man say it was his job to “watch over her,” Reggie felt cocooned in Clarence’s attentiveness.

“Well, please tell me you got something to eat,” Sadie the banker-baker said.

“Yes, ma’am. I never had barbecue before, and it was quite lovely.”

“Land sakes, I’ll send you home with a good recipe. Reg can help you make it. Then you can invite a lady friend over and . . .” Sadie looked back at him. “Are you married?”

“No, ma’am.” Clarence’s broad cheeks flushed pink.

“All right, well, this stuff will do the trick. See those two over there?” Sadie pointed to Richard and Kathy Fox. “Fell in love over a plate of my sweet barbecue chicken.”

“Sadie,”—Reggie reached out and lowered Sadie’s hand—“just give him the recipe.” She smiled back at the big man. “But let him find his wife his own way.”

“Just saying, a good dinner never hurt.”

“If Rafe gets the job in Pensacola, I think he’s going to propose,” Carrie said out of the blue, more to herself than Reggie or Sadie. Or Clarence.

Reggie swerved to face her. “And what will you say to this proposal?”

“Big honking yes. Are you crazy? Though I can’t imagine you not being around for all the planning, Reg.” Carrie stretched her arms toward her friend, drawing her into a soft hug. “Are you sure you need to leave and be a princess?”

“Yes.” Sadie cut the air with a side swipe of her hand, her tone flat and unwavering. “She does. So don’t start, Carrie.”

Yes, yes, she did. Reggie squeezed Sadie’s hand, blinking away a sting of tears. Sadie sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Oh, there’s LeeAnn Burnett . . .” She shot out of her chair. “LeeAnn, I need to talk to you about this year’s Christmas gift drive . . .”


“She’s a good mom,” Carrie said.

“The best.” Reggie sat back in her chair, but then saw Mark crossing the yard. “Clarence,” she said, getting up. “I’ll be right over there.”

She met Mark at the soda cooler.

“So, you’re leaving. Off to be a princess.” He dug a soda from the ice and popped the top. “I thought Al was joking when he said you were a real princess. Then your dad confirmed it.”

“I’m sorry I left without talking to you. It all happened so fast.”

A couple of Sadie’s friends came up, asking for a photo, but Clarence appeared out of nowhere and blocked the shot.

“No posts on Twitter or Facebook.” He stepped up on the picnic table bench, shedding his stoic reserve. “Do not post pictures of Her Majesty. Do not tweet or Facebook about her. It is a matter of security. If you have posted photographs, kindly take them down.”

When Clarence hopped off the table, Mark scoffed. “Your own security detail?”

“Comes with the job.” Reggie stooped to retrieve a soda from the ice. “One of the perks.” She laughed. “Lighten up. Clarence is just being super cautious.”

“I’ll say.”

“Mark, hey, we’re friends, right? We’ll always be friends.” She popped the tab of her root beer as the cold dew from the can dripped to her flip-flopped foot.

“You know, Reg, when I said we’d be a great power couple, I didn’t mean for you to run off and inherit a kingdom. Being a partner in a CPA firm suited me just fine.”

She laughed and bumped him with her shoulder. “Come see me in Hessenberg?”

“Yeah, maybe. I got a lot of irons in the fire here.”



“Some things never change.” She bent forward to see his downcast eyes. “Can we be power friends?”

He tipped up his can for a long swig. “Not the same. Not the same.”

“Mark, even if I wasn’t a princess—”

“I know.” He stared straight ahead, toward the fire. “What do you say? Care to go for a drive for old times’ sake?”

“I–I think I’d better stay here.” Reggie tipped her head toward the party. “Lots of people to talk with yet. Besides, Clarence would never let me go alone. Old times’ sake never included personal security.”

“All right, then how about a two-step around the dance floor?”

Reggie gave Mark her hand and he led her to the dance floor—a plywood board Daddy stored in the attic above the garage.

They moved around the board with the other dancers, the familiar steps stirring her melancholy. She was going to miss home.

But she yearned to see what lay ahead. Ached to begin the journey of her heart. With Hessenberg. With Tanner.

The melody changed and Daddy tapped Mark on the shoulder. “Pardon me, but I need to step around with my daughter.”

As Daddy began scooting with her around the floor, Reggie pressed her cheek against her rock, her daddy, and her tears flowed.

“Going to miss you, Reg.”

“I’m going to miss you, Daddy.” She dried her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “Do you think I can do it?”

Daddy stepped back to see her face. “I’ve no doubt. I just know your mama and gram are up in heaven cheering you on. Mama would want you to fly and, princess sweet pea, so do I.” He laughed. “Me, a master plumber, father of a princess.”

“Ah, but Daddy, I’ll always be your sweet pea, the proud daughter of a master plumber.”



Arriving at his flat with just enough time to change before his four thirty meeting with his daughters, Tanner changed into jeans and a jumper, going for the hip dad appearance.

In the kitchen, he arranged Mum’s cake so it could be seen, even fanned his hand over it trying to fill the house with the scent of cinnamon.

The doorbell chimed, and he wiped the dew from his palms as he opened the door.

Dressed in their school uniforms, the girls stood to Trude’s shoulders, their silky blonde hair falling over their shoulders in soft, wide curls. Their perfectly matched blue eyes studied him, and as he had at their birthday party, he caught a hint of his mum in their smiles and stubborn chins.

“Come in, please. Welcome.” He stood aside, exchanging a glance with Trude, hoping for a clue as to the girls’ moods. She made a face, rolling her eyes.

What did that mean?

“Tanner, you remember Bella,”—she put her hand on the girl’s head to her right—“and Britta”—then on the daughter on her left.

“I–I remember. We spoke at your party.” He did remember them. When they were little he could tell them apart by their . . . aura? Was that the right word? Bella had a fiery spark in her eye that had started when she was a baby. Britta, the serious one, emanated a certain embracing sensitivity.

The girls greeted him as they moved into the living room. And that’s about the time it took for all the love he had for them as babies and toddlers to spring to life and saturate his soul. He’d been tentative with them at the party, but now he realized eight years of silence had not dulled his heart at all.

“The place is kind of bare.”

“Bella”—Trude thumped her on the back of the head—“mind your manners.”

“You’re right, it is kind of bare,” Tanner said. “I–I’m not here very much.”

“Do you work a lot?” Britta asked in a soft voice.

“I do but I can work from home if you decided to live here.”

“We’re not children,” Bella said. “We don’t need supervision.”

“Tanner, we’ve a car that takes the girls to and from school. By the time they complete their after-school activities it’s well into teatime.”

“What kind of activities?”

“I play lacrosse.” Britta tapped her hand to her chest, then pointed her thumb at her sister. “She’s a choir bird.”

Tanner tried not to laugh. He’d have guessed the opposite activities based on personality. Back into parenting for less than a minute and he was already being schooled.

“They look alike, but that’s where the similarities end,” Trude said. “Britta loves the roller coasters, but Bella is afraid of heights.”

“I love the haunted house,” Bella said. “She’s afraid of her own shadow.”

“Mum, tell her to stop saying that.”

“Are you going to fight in front of Tanner? Ensure he won’t want to live with either one of you?”

“We didn’t say we wanted to live with him.” Bella moved to the windows and peeked out.

“You don’t have to live here,” Trude said. “We’ve discussed it. Evan and I are fine for you to come to America.”

“What about Scarborough?” Trude cauterized Tanner’s question with a single glance. Ah, seems she had a strategy and he was mussing it up.

“But I’m going to be captain of the team next year.” Britta turned to her mother.



“And I’m trying out for senior choir.” Bella looked at Tanner as if to garner his support.

“Girls, that’s a whole year away,” Trude said with a wink at Tanner.

“But if we move to America, we lose our spots.”

“Isn’t that why we are here, then? To see if you want to live with your father?”

Father. The word sounded so foreign. But so sweet.

Britta grabbed his arm. “Do you know the princess?”

“Yes, I do.” Very well, thank you.

“Can we meet her?”

“Oh please,” Bella joined her sister’s petition. “Please, can we?”

“I believe it can be arranged.”

“Is she nice? For an American?”

“She’s very nice.”

The girls squealed and huddled together. “Mary Margaret will just be green with envy when we tell her.”

“Girls, don’t go flaunting this to your friends. Be nice.” Trude looked at Tanner with a shrug and a grin. “I’d like to meet her myself.”

“I’ll arrange a tea for the family. Mum hasn’t met her yet.” Tanner lightly tapped the girls on the head. “But she’d like to meet you two the most.”

The dialog went supersonic, the girls talking so fast Tanner wasn’t sure they were actually speaking real words. Trude was right in there with them. Oh no, how was he ever going to navigate the life and times of ten-year-old twins?

At last they paused to breathe and he jumped into the verbal action break. “Would you like to see your room?”

And the rapid-fire dialog ignited again.

He’d enlisted the aid of his staffer, Marissa, to help with the beanbag chairs and throw pillows. And Tanner worked with Louis to print out his Pinterest finds—what a smashing site—all morning.

Tanner led the girls down the short hall and lit the floor lamp, giving the normally austere room a warm, inviting change. Lights just coming on from the city dotted the dark picture window and, even to Tanner, the scene felt magical.

“Wow, Mum, look. We can see the whole city.” The twins pressed their faces to the window.

“My, Tanner, this is extraordinary.”

“I thought you could decorate any way you want. I printed out some ideas.” Tanner motioned to the images on the wall, nervous if not a bit slaphappy. “Here’s one where the twins divided the room down the middle.”


“Look, Bella, isn’t it marvelous?” Britta leaned into the images, asking Tanner if they could do any one they wanted, squealing when he answered in the affirmative.

Trude went to the kitchen and returned with plates, forks, and the cinnamon cake.

“Shall we dine in your new room? Bella, look, a purple beanbag. Your favorite color.”

Tanner listened as the girls talked, trying to enter their world. When he sat on the floor with his cake, wondering if indeed, after the excitement, this would ever really work, he looked up to see Britta moving her beanbag closer to him.

She smiled when their eyes met. His mouth went dry and his heart tapped out D-a-d-l-o-v-e.

“I think I’m going to like living here.”

“Me too,” Bella said.

“It won’t be easy, girls.” Trude exchanged a glance with Tanner. “Your dad’s been single a long time.” Your dad, your dad . . . no sweeter words except I love you. “And we’ll be apart. Think about this now . . .”

Britta stared at Tanner, then leaned toward him with a serene expression. “I remember you,” she whispered.

He choked on his cake, the crumbs sticking to his dry throat. “Y–you remember me? From the party?”



“No, from when I was little.” With a shy smile, she looked back at her plate, her golden hair falling against her cheek.

“If we’re here, Mum,” Bella said, “Tanner—Dad—won’t be a lonely bachelor. He needs us.”

“Now, girls, don’t go getting ideas in your head about—”

“She’s right, Trude.” Tanner reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I do need them.” And he hoped they needed him. “But it’s not going to be smooth sailing.”

“So?” Bella shrugged. “We can learn together.”

Tanner tried to finish his cake, but he’d lost all taste for its sweetness. Having his girls in his flat overwhelmed all of his senses. For the first time in a very long time, he felt like he was really living his life. Really home.

He listened while the girls talked with Trude, interjecting where he could, but he loved the sound of their chatter. The old flat had suffered with his silence too long.

The girls were in the middle of discussing the Pinterest printouts when Tanner’s phone pinged. He retrieved it from his pocket. A message from King Nathaniel.





EU Court agreed to hear the petition. Arguments begin in the morning.





Tanner excused himself for a moment. Thank goodness Regina was returning. Hessenberg needed her.

As he left the room, intending to call Louis, he caught his reflection in the dark windowpane and paused, touching the top of his hair, the chatter of the girls floating around him.

His life was changing. He was changing. And the need for his long, stubborn locks was finally over.



On a mid-October Friday evening, dusk settled over Strauberg as Reggie rode with Tanner toward the Fence & Anchor.

Slowing for a red light, he leaned toward her. “Regina, love, look this way. You’ve something in your eye.”

“I do?” Reggie swatted at her bangs, blowing a breath up, fluttering the ends. Tomorrow morning she had an appointment at a stylist Melinda recommended. Thank goodness.

“Yes, see, right here . . .” Tanner brushed her bangs aside and kissed her right eye, then her left, moving to the tip of her nose. At last—oh, at last—her tingling lips.

She slipped her hand around his neck, returning his affection. She’d been home four days and had yet to fill her kisses quotient. It seemed every time they were alone, for just a moment, someone came along. Louis. Jarvis. Serena. An aide. A photographer.

So they kissed at red lights like a couple of teens.

When he greeted her at the airport, she didn’t recognize him with his styled, short hair, but oh, now she saw every angle and contour of his fine face, the face of the man she wanted next to her in this life.

A green hue fell against the windshield, and a car horn blasted.

Tanner’s kisses softened into a laugh. “Some blokes have no romance.”

“The shame of it all.”

Tanner wove his fingers with Reggie’s and headed past the light. “Are you sure you want to go to the Fence & Anchor? We can go to a nicer place.”

“The Fence & Anchor, please, sir. The patrons are my kind of people. The ones who work hard all week, then get with friends on the weekend for fellowship, blow off a bit of steam.” She pulled her hand from his, sitting forward, peering out the front window, watching the storm clouds gather, screening the last tendrils of twilight. “I didn’t have one bite of my stew the last time, and I’ve been getting memory whiffs ever since.”

“The F & A will be thrilled to have you.”

“So, Tanner, the girls . . . ,” Reggie said. “Moving in the day after Christmas. Are you excited?”

“I’m terrified.” He laughed, a low melody that played well on his lips and sparked a glint in his blue eyes. “But they’re going to start coming on the weekends.”

“I’ll be there for you. I will.” She squeezed her hand over his. “As you need me. I don’t want to interfere.”

“Are you joking, Regina? They love you.”

“They are fascinated with Princess Regina, whom they’ve met yesterday for a few minutes. Wait until they run into Tallahassee Reggie Beswick. They’ll beg you to get rid of me.”

“This I must see.”

“Come on, it won’t be pretty.” She made a face, and he laughed.

Her favorite thing, besides kissing him, was laughing with him. She loved how joy morphed him into a gentle, easy, confident soul instead of the somber, rigid, closed-off man she’d met in Tally.

Tanner took the next left and maneuvered a narrow lane to park on the side of the Fence & Anchor. Nigel and Jace, the second-team security, parked next to them.

Stepping out, Reggie inhaled the fragrance of the city and saline-dew drifting up from the bay. Already the scent was becoming familiar. In the distance, a steamer horn blasted. And for a split moment, Reggie was in another era, another life altogether.

Tanner came up behind her, lightly touching her shoulder, giving her a wink.

“You think they saw us?” she whispered, tipping her head toward the dark-suited, broad-chested security men.

“Why do you think I skirted away from them and cut in front of that truck?”

She bumped him with her hip. “Clever chap.”

Across the street, a couple of women slowed, pointing, then raised their phones in their direction. Reggie stepped to the curb, smiled, and waved. They bumped into each other, giggled, and aimed for more snapshots.

But Nigel came around and ended the spontaneous photo shoot, directing Reggie inside the pub. “Safer in here,” he said.

The atmosphere of the crowded, noisy Fence & Anchor embraced her as Gemma hurried through the chairs and tables to greet them. “Your Majesty, welcome, welcome. We’ve got a booth in the back all reserved.”

She started down the length of the booths, but Tanner held her arm. “Gemma, we won’t find a bank of photographers outside when we leave, will we?”

Her expression darkened. “No, sir.” She jerked her arm free. “What sort of girl do you take me for?”

“Exactly as I thought,” Tanner said. “One we can depend upon.”

She harrumphed, tugged on her skirt, and led them to the booth, chin raised.

Reggie loved the atmosphere and pressed into the hubbub, the voices, the blaring announcer on the TV . . .

“Gemma,” Reggie said, “can’t we sit out here with everyone?”

“I have the booth in the back . . . like last time.” Gemma shot Tanner a nervous glance.

“Regina,”—he leaned into her—“there’s more security in the back.”

“Tanner, I’m not going to live afraid. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it. Nigel and Jace are here. What can happen?”

“I’ve got two tables right here,” Gemma said. “Stan, Pip, shoo, shoo.” She shoved on the shoulder of a young working man.

“Gemma, no, please don’t kick them out of their table. Those tables over there will do.” Reggie moved around Stan and Pip to a set of tables by the bar, drawing them together herself.

By now, the pub was buzzing. The atmosphere changing.

“The princess . . .”

“Where?”

“There . . . .”

“Pretty . . . looks like one of us . . .”

Maybe that was her advantage. She was one of them.

“Are you her?” A young woman with purple hair and a lip ring stepped forward. “The princess?”

“I am, yes.”

“Please, we just came in for dinner.” Tanner tried to block the woman. “Go back to your table.”

“Wait, Tanner. It’s all right.” Reggie offered the woman her hand. “What’s your name?”

“Jayel Carmichael. I work around the corner at Gilden’s.”

Other patrons started to gather around. Nigel’s low “Keep clear . . . don’t press in too close” went completely ignored.

Reggie drew a mental path to the door if need be, but she saw or felt no threat here.

“What do you think of Hessenberg having a princess, Jayel?”


“Why not, I say. A royal family can do a country a lot of good. Especially a small duchy like us.”

“The governor thinks differently,” came a strong voice behind Reggie.

“Yeah, that blooming governor can get over hisself. He wants to be the one in charge.”

Voices in the pub rose, rumbled, and blended.

“That’s what I say.”

“Well, what of it?” This from a female patron. “He’s a fine man who’s served and loved his country—”

“Was Princess Alice really your grandmother?” Another soft voice interrupted the woman.

“—and knows our culture and laws. I trust the governor.”

“Yes, my great-grandmother was Princess Alice.” Reggie rose up on her toes. “And I do agree with the woman saying the governor has served this country. He does know the laws and culture.”

“So what are you doing here, getting in the blooming way?”

“See there now,”—Jayel stood on a chair, patting down the noise with her hands—“she saved us from being a province to Brighton for the rest of our lives. That’s what she’s doing here.”

“Did you know your great-grammy?” another asked.

“I did.” Reggie turned, trying to line up voices with faces. “She died when I was twelve.”

“She’s real, just like us,” Jayel said with a campaign trail tone. “Got family and hurts, I suspect.”

“Here now, what’s all of this?” A booming voice parted the crowd. “I come for some grub and here’s the princess clogging up the works.”

Keeton Lombard III. “Hello, Mr. Lombard.” Reggie smiled at the older man.

“Your Majesty.” He removed his cap as he bowed. “At your service.” The lines around his eyes appeared deeper than when she met him, but there was a light and vigor in his eyes. “Move aside, chaps, let the princess have a seat.” He reached for a chair behind a man at another table. “You don’t mind, Pembrook, do you?”

“Please, Keeton. Let Mr. Pembrook eat his dinner.”

“Listen to her. Let me have my tea in peace, Lombard.” Mr. Pembrook glared up at her. “I for one agree with the governor. The time for royals has passed.”

Rumblings from the crowd rolled forward.

“Royals are a bother. Drain on state finances—”

“Drain? They provide finances. Tourism and—”

“Tourism?” The man laughed, swearing. “The people have to pay rent to the crown on the very grounds the tourists walk. Tourism? Malarkey!”

“We can make reforms.” Tanner finally joined the conversation. “In the land holdings, how the crown’s property is managed.”

“How about giving it back to the earls who lost their land with the blasted entail?”

“Agreed. We don’t need aristocracy. We’re all equal here, and we have a chance for a fresh start with a fresh government.”

The crowd stirred. Voices of dissension fired between the pub patrons.

“I think having a princess is fabulous.” Jayel pumped her arms as if it might help her emotionally charged argument. “She’s good for us. She comes straight from Prince Francis, the Grand Duke. That should mean something.”

“Here’s what I want to know.” An older man, dressed in a fine-weave suit and a neatly tied tie, appeared between the shoulders of two women. “How are you, an American, going to help us find our identity again? Help us rediscover who we are?”

“Tobias,” Keeton addressed him. “Give the girl some room. She just found out she is a long-lost princess herself.”

“I–I don’t know,” Reggie said. “We can learn together.”

Laughter rippled around the group. She winced. She did sound a bit Sesame Street.

“We’re doing all we can to bring out archives, Mr. . . .” Tanner offered his hand but the man didn’t take it.

“Horowitz. Tobias Horowitz. Archives don’t answer my question. Can the princess help us find our identity,”—he patted his hand over his heart—“who we are in here? Or will Seamus Fitzsimmons be the better one?”

“What do you mean, find our identity?” Tanner released the button on his jacket and loosened his tie. His blue eyes sparked and a red hue covered the high contours of his cheeks. Reggie loved it when his passion tinged his face. The creeping hue was a sure sign he was engaged in the moment. She noticed it when he met her at the airport when she came home, kissing her before he even said hello.

“How is this young bird—” Tobias glanced at Reggie. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“—going to resurrect what it means to be a Hessen? Remind us of our days of old? Of our pride. Of our history. Of how our parents and grandparents felt.”

“Identity?” Pembrook said. “Horowitz, have you lost your blooming mind? What about our economy?”

And so the room debated—her side, his side, their side, all sides. Even the waitstaff and the barkeepers leaned in to have a say. A tightness in Reggie’s chest twisted around her heart, her lungs, and for a moment she had to work to breathe. See, this was why she hated politics. Everyone had a side and valid reasons for what they believed and why.

Then the first note of a song fluttered across her heart. She tipped her head to one side, trying to listen. Two more notes fluttered past. An old song, from deep in her mind. Three notes played across her mind.

Where had she heard it before? Her first day here? On the radio?

She felt a soft, invisible drop on her head. The same oily sensation she felt in the chapel when she took the Oath of the Throne.

It was as if the Lord was saying, “I’m here. Ask me.”

Okay, what do I do? What do I say?

The melody began to flow, faster until she heard the entire song. Gram’s song. Of course. She used to sing it to her when she was a girl, afraid of the night. Closing her eyes, she pictured herself on Gram’s lap, leaning against her breast, weaving her little fingers through Gram’s soft, weathered ones.

Da-da-da-dum . . . Reggie searched for the lyrics that went with the melody.

She waved at the barkeeper. “Can we turn down the TV?”

“Ian, cut it!” Gemma called across the bar, making a slicing motion at her throat. “Miss, are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to remember something.” She could almost see the words as the melody drifted in and about her heart, her mind.

La-da-da. Moonlight, sunshine, waves upon the shore, all for the homeland, pick up your oar.

Reggie lifted her head and sang out. “Moonlight, sunshine, waves upon the shore . . .”

A rough, gravelly voice joined hers, and when she looked around, Keeton wedged in next to her, his hand on her shoulder. “All for the homeland, pick up your oar.” His rich bass rose and fell with the melody. They sang together, “Man and woman, boy and girl, we’re all meeting down on the Hessen shores.”

She peered at the hovering patrons, urging them to join in, but they stared back with stunned expressions. Pembrook’s and Horowitz’s eyes were slick with tears as Reggie and Keeton finished the song.

“La, la, la, la we’re going to the shore. La, la, la, la to dance once more. No more worries, no more cares, we’ll sleep in peace tonight under stars so fair.”

“I say, laddies,” Mr. Horowitz said, clearing the emotion from his voice. “I’ve not heard this song since me own granny rocked me to sleep.”

“I’ve never heard it.” Jayel still stood in the chair, hands on her hips. “Sing it again.”

Mr. Horowitz came around the table, shoving folks aside to join Reggie. “It’s an old Hessenberg evening song called ‘Sleep Tonight.’ He held out his hand to her. “Join me, Your Majesty?” And he stepped up on a free chair.

She took his hand and stood on the chair next to his. When she lowered her hand, Horowitz still held on.

She smiled, her heart overflowing.

If the EU court decided she had to go, fine. But she’d have this moment with these Fence & Anchor patrons forever, when she helped restore some piece of their past, their culture, to their hearts.

“Here we go now.” Mr. Horowitz counted the beat with a conductor’s expertise.

“Moonlight, sunshine, waves upon the shore . . .”

When the song ended, pub patrons erupted with cheers. Keeton Lombard immediately started another round, teaching it to the younger Hessens.

Reggie felt a light hand on her leg. Tanner. “How am I doing?”

He pressed his hand to his chest. “Stealing every heart in this room.”

The pub patrons were about to go another round with the evening song when the pub doors burst open, a mob surging inside, a blend of workers in uniforms, men and women in suits, and policemen trying to control the chaos.

“The EU has delivered their ruling. They sided with the princess and the entail. We’ll be an autocracy in five days with the stroke of her royal pen.”