"What do you want?"

"Well hello to you too," Lord Wilson greeted his daughter who was dripping on the welcome mat at his front door. "Are we talking again? I thought I'd just won the worst father of the year award."

"You did," Jane grimaced, shivering as she followed him into the sitting room. "I'm only here to pick up past financial reports. So if you'll just hand them to me, I can be on my way—"

"Stay for dinner."

"I'm sorry?"

"Stay for dinner," he shrugged, handing her a towel. "I know we aren't exactly on the same side, but it would mean a lot to me if you could join me for dinner."

"We are nowhere near the same side." She raised her brow at the new souvenirs hanging on her father's mantelpiece. "Did you try getting a job like I asked?"

"Worked as a cook for a month." He brought out a silver platter stacked high with tarts. "Then a baker for a week. Never realised I missed the kitchen that much."

"So you brought me here to be poisoned?"

"Very funny, Jane." He offered a tart. "Try one at least."

"There." She swallowed. "Now will you give me the reports? I'm on a schedule."

"You should try a blueberry tart—"

"Papa, please," she warned. "Things are great the way they are. Now can I please just get my report and leave?"

He gave a wry chuckle. "That's what your mother used to say. Always on the clock. Stay for dinner, please." He led her to the dining table. "Mrs. Smith made a pie before she left for Althea. You know, there are rumors about someone buying the Earl's business chain. The diners and the dress shops. Your mother used to work there before she met me—"

"Is that what this is about?" She scoffed, draping the towel on her chair. "Are you finally trying to reconcile; two years too late?"

"Your mother was a great woman. She always put others before herself—"

"Don't try to sweet talk her." Jane shook her head. "What happened to that woman is between myself and her. You have no place trying to change my views."

"She used to stay out late and wait for the stars to come out. She used to teach your brother everything about them—"

"She's dead." She snapped. "You can say all you want about her papa. You can tell me she single handedly stopped the Keydon-Lyrell war. I don't care!"

"I know—"

"My mother didn't care about me." She crossed her arms, steadying her breaths as she spoke. "Do you know what she cared about? Her bloody dresses. Every evening she'd come home from whatever new shop there was, she would make one cup of tea, for you, and she'd lock herself in her study and make the most beautiful dresses there were. I got a beating once because I snuck a look at her new designs. She was obsessed with making these huge, magical dresses and she would never ever wear any of them." She clenched her jaw as she stared straight at him. "Do you know who she was making them for?" She asked. "A non-existent daughter-in-law. That's how far she was thinking. Do you know what she said when I couldn't help her with the debt? When you were wailing your arse like an immature little child?"

"Jane, I'm sorry—"

"No, you don't get to make this about you. You wanted to talk about mama, we'll talk about mama."

"Jane—"

"Neither of you ever thought about anyone but yourselves. You don't think about the consequences. You don't think about the people you could hurt, or the opportunities to do better. To you, everything should be yours. Everything should go your way. Because it's easier. Because that's what you want." She swallowed. "Where were the two of you when James left? Where were you when mama left?"

"I was there with you."

"No. You were there pinning the blame on everyone else." She countered. "You were there guilting me into thinking I had something to do with her death. You forced me into a position where I had to lie about everything, to everyone." Her voice hitched. "I'm tired of this. The fights, the acting. I can't say you were a bad father. You were a saint compared to her," she laughed at the absurd thought. "You provided as best as you could. You taught me a lot despite your reluctance." She grimaced and stuck out her hand. Her mother had caused them both pain. Maybe it was time to acknowledge the other's. "You aren't a... bad person. But you could definitely use some improvement."

He looked at her hand, unsure of the invitation, but shook it. "You'll want the reports then?"

"No," she said, pulling out her chair. "I think we can have dinner first."

Perhaps it was then when everything went wrong. When she agreed to risk trusting the duke. But for now, it was happiness between them. A bittersweet line they could meet after all the arguments and all the accusations. She had missed this. The company of a person who had known her all her life. Not many could see their demons in daylight like she did.

_________

"Say no."

"Sorry?" Kit furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"The girl." his mother stated. "Say no at the altar, break off the engagement. We can't let her win."

"What are you talking about, mum?"

"We can't let her win." Queen Audrey said, her voice crackling on the other side of the telephone. "This buying, investing, loaning. Who does she think she's fooling? Her act is transparent. Anyone can see what she's planning."

"Mum, what are you talking about?"

"Your fiancèe. Your... Jane." She sounded disgusted at the mention of her. "You can't be associated with her. Her family has a history of debts, a reputation for desperate measures. I can't let my son's name be dragged through the mud along with hers. Before you know it, Lyrell will be falling. She'll weaken our economy, destroy our people."

"Mum—"

"Do you want to be king?"

"I—" he stopped, trying to understand the words running around in his mind. "Yes," he nodded. He had trained for that position his whole life. "What's happening mum?"

"Keydon is preparing for another war and I am not going to let a Wilson be the culprit of our downfall again. Your father messed up the first time, I can't take that risk."

"But Jane?" He asked. "She's not a threat. She's trying to save the kingdom. You remember how long it took to recover when Mr. Estees took his business elsewhere."

"She's a risk I am not prepared to take." She snapped. "Do you want to be king?"

"Mum—"

"Do you want to be king?"

"I do."

"Then you will do what is best for the kingdom," She said sharply. "Without a question."

"Nick."

"Hmm?" Emma interrupted his train of thought, holding up two similarly patterned cloths. He looked down to find his hands stained with ink and his papers filled with illegible script. Bloody distractions, he cursed internally.

"You went to a dark place." Emma frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He shook his head and smiled. "Just, thinking," he said, attempting to straighten his papers without staining the ones underneath. "What was your question?"

"Which would look better at Jane's birthday celebration?" Emma held them up but looked at the prince with concern. "What's wrong Nick?"

"My suit," he lied, pushing his papers away. "I don't have a suit for her birthday. I've never liked very elaborate clothing, but it is her birthday, and maybe, I thought I could make an effort with her and the revolution stressing her out-" He stopped himself before he started to ramble. This was Emma. She'd known Kit her whole life. There wasn't a shadow of a doubt that she could see through him.

Emma didn't look fooled. Her face was grim and frustrated, understanding him completely.

"Your mother?"

"Why would you say that?" Kit forced a smile even though his facade had already cracked

"Nick, I know when it happens. I know what it's like."

"Do you?" his voice broke, like all his inside feelings.

"I can help you with the suit," She lowered her voice. "But I can't help you if you won't let me."