Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
I hated it for him. The man wanted to be loved for who he was on the inside—as Zane Hendley—when all of the people downstairs only wanted to see Zee Barlo, the megastar.
“You’re brooding,” he teased without looking up from his phone. “A big, broody Bear.”
“Mpfh. I do not brood.”
Zane chuckled. “You hate it here.”
“I don’t,” I insisted. “There are things I like here. And people.” Namely, Zane himself.
“You’re itching to leave.”
I hesitated. “I’m itching to boot most of those jackasses out,” I admitted. “Your gran and Rinny can stay.”
Zane laughed again. “Generous of you.”
“Sorry. That was unprofessional.”
He flicked his eyes at me. “Bear, pretty sure we passed professional about ten months ago. We’re friends, aren’t we? Or do you want to go back to the days when I called you Ryan and you tried really hard not to swear in my presence because it was unprofessional?”
My lips twitched. “No. I fucking don’t.”
He laughed lightly. “Good. Then don’t censor yourself with me. I have enough people in my life who only tell me what I want to hear.”
I let out a huff. “None of them are downstairs.”
Zane tossed his phone down and turned over to prop himself up against the headboard. “Not true. Farrah’s friends would be more than happy to tell me what I want to hear.” I could tell by his grin he was enjoying arguing with me.
“Your cousin JK needs to take a long walk off a short pier.”
“My cousin JK will never get out of Barlo, Georgia. And that makes me feel sorry for him. I love that he’s dreaming about starting his own business. Growing up poor in a small town means you don’t have a whole lot other than dreams of something better, Bear. Nothing wrong with him trying to make his dream a reality.”
“You sound like an inspirational poster sold at the dollar store.”
Zane barked out a laugh. “Since when have you been to a dollar store?”
I couldn’t hold back a matching grin. “Since King Asger wanted the royal family and their entourage to experience, quote, ‘the real America’ on their tour here six years ago. I took them to all kinds of places. We even went bowling and had those upside-down ice creams at Dairy Queen. The kids loved it. I think the king did, too. Crown Prince Gerhard and the rest of the staff… less so. Distinct lack of formal protocol here, let alone Ventdestinian mysticism. When the ‘winds of fate’ don’t blow as predicted, it ruffles their feathers.” I gave him a half smile. “But I liked that the king tried.”
Zane chuckled. “I can only imagine what the royal chef thought of a set of yellow-and-green-painted corn handles.”
“And the bendy straws,” I added.
“And the off-brand Tupperware whose lids never fit right, even from day one.”
I shook my head. “The worst were the chip clips. He was fascinated by them, even though I’m not sure the man had ever seen a bag of chips in his life.”
Zane’s smile softened. “We always used wooden clothespins. You could get a pack of a hundred for five bucks at the Walmart over in Tipton. Gran used to share them with the neighbors like she was royalty. She would have done the Ventdestinian royal family proud.”
I thought about the stark difference between the way the Ventdestinian princes and princess were raised compared to how Zane had been brought up here in Barlo. I’d joined the royal guard when Asger’s oldest grandson was only ten, and I’d seen just how stifling his upbringing was.
Money didn’t always solve everything, as Zane… and the royal children… well knew.
“You know, every time I see that horseshoe over the front door, I think how your gran would actually get a kick out of the superstitions in Ventdestine,” I said. “The royal family in particular are a little over-the-top with certain things.”
Zane lifted his eyebrows as if asking for an explanation, so I continued. Zane always loved hearing about Ventdestine. He said my stories seemed like fairy tales.
“Asger used to tap his toe on the rug every time he entered his bedroom. Apparently, there was a several-hundred-year-old superstition that had something to do with a previous king who had commissioned a tapestry for the royal chambers and then hadn’t properly paid the artisan. So, the weaver had put a curse on the royal family. It took years for the curse to be reversed, and ever since then, the king has to pay homage to the weaver when he enters the royal chamber to ward off the curse.”
“How exhausting,” Zane said.
“They still burn a special combination of herbs in the palace every spring to clean out the evil spirits left from winter. And the winds are always whispering fortune, or ill, or love, or loss.” I shook my head. “It was hard, when I first moved there, to reconcile myself to how deeply ingrained these ideas are in their culture. I’m curious if things will change now that Gerhard is on the throne. In some ways, he was as superstitious as his father.”