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Part 2 – Chapter no 50: RHYS

Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)

โ€œYou canโ€™t sit by a queenโ€™s side if you donโ€™t know which

fork to use. Youโ€™ll embarrass yourself at state functions.โ€ Andreas crossed his arms over his chest. โ€œDid you not look at the diagram I sent you?โ€

โ€œTheyโ€™re. All. Forks,โ€ I bit out. โ€œThey serve the same function.โ€

โ€œIโ€™d like to see you try to use an oyster fork to eat steak.โ€

A dull ache throbbed at my temple. Weโ€™d been reviewing dinner etiquette for the past hour, and I was one second away from stabbing Andreas with one of his beloved forks.

Heโ€™d officially moved out of the palace and back into his townhouse last week, after the parliamentary vote, and we were reviewing place settings in his kitchen.

Iโ€™d asked him to help me acclimate to the whole royal lifestyle thing. Diplomatic protocol, whoโ€™s who in Eldorran society, and so on.

I already regretted it, and we hadnโ€™t even finished our first lesson.

Before I could respond, the doorbell rang, saving Andreas from death by utensil.

โ€œStudy the diagram,โ€ he said before answering the door.

My temple throbbed harder. I shouldโ€™ve asked the palaceโ€™s protocol office for help instead. They were

humorless automatons, but at least I didnโ€™t want to murder them every five minutes.

I heard faint voices, followed by the sound of footsteps. โ€œRhys?โ€

I looked up and saw Bridget standing in the doorway with Booth. I wasnโ€™t sure who was more surprised, her or me.

โ€œWhat are you doing here?โ€ we asked at the same time. โ€œIt seems Iโ€™m now the most popular person in the

family.โ€ Andreas stepped around Bridget. โ€œIronic.โ€

She walked to me and gave me a quick kiss before sliding a cool glance in Andreasโ€™s direction. โ€œYouโ€™re not the most popular person anywhere except in your head.โ€

I didnโ€™t bother hiding my smile. Snarky Bridget was one of my favorite Bridgets.

Andreas arched an eyebrow. โ€œCare to explain why youโ€™re here then, Your Highness? I assumed youโ€™d be too busy to visit little olโ€™ me.โ€

Good question. Bridget was supposed to be at a coronation planning meeting.

โ€œMy meeting ended early, so I thought Iโ€™d come by to say thank you. I didnโ€™t get a chance to say it before, but I appreciate you helping Rhys with Erhall.โ€ It came out grudgingly. Bridgetโ€™s relationship with Andreas had warmed a few degrees since she found out heโ€™d been trying to help her in his own fucked-up way, but they would never be best friends. They were too different and had too much history.

Andreasโ€™s face broke out into a devious grin. โ€œDonโ€™t be a dick,โ€ I warned.

โ€œMe? Never.โ€ he drawled before turning to Bridget. โ€œI appreciate the gratitude, cousin dearest. Does this mean you owe me a favor in the future?โ€

She narrowed her eyes. โ€œDonโ€™t push it.โ€

Andreas shrugged. โ€œIt was worth a shot. While youโ€™re here, maybeย youย can explain place settings to your

boyfriend. I drew a perfect diagram, but alas, itโ€™s not enough.โ€

Bridgetโ€™s confusion shifted to amusement as I explained the situation, her glare fixed on Andreas the whole time.

โ€œHe doesnโ€™t know his forks,โ€ Andreas remarked after I finished. โ€œIโ€™m trying to civilize him. Can you imagine using a salad fork to eat pasta?โ€ He sniffed disdainfully.

โ€œI know enough to stab you with one,โ€ I shot back.

Booth snorted from the doorway.

โ€œAnd the violence is another thing we need to work on,โ€ Andreas said, finishing his whiskey and setting the glass on the counter. โ€œYouโ€™re dating a princess now. You canโ€™t go around stabbing people.โ€

โ€œOh, I think people will understand once they hear who Iโ€™m stabbing.โ€

Bridget laughed. โ€œForget about him,โ€ she said, turning to me. โ€œIโ€™ll help you.โ€ Then she looked at Booth. โ€œIโ€™m fine here. Rhys is with me. I believe thereโ€™s a football match you want to watch?โ€

Football as in soccer, not American footballโ€”a small but important detail I had to adapt to.

Boothโ€™s face lit up. โ€œIf you wouldnโ€™t mind, Your Highness.โ€

Since it was getting late and Andreas only had milk and eggs in the fridge, we decided to order takeout while Booth settled in to watch his game. Bridget and Andreas battled it out to teach me about place settings. Eventually, I started to catch on, and we moved on to the hierarchy of nobility. It was easy to remember: after the royal family came dukes and duchesses, followed by marquesses, counts, earls, and barons. Eldorra had a similar structure to Britain.

โ€œYou might make a good Prince Consort after all.โ€ Andreas wiped his mouth with a napkin and checked the clock. โ€œIf youโ€™ll excuse me, I have a call with an old friend from Oxford. Donโ€™t destroy the kitchen while Iโ€™m gone.โ€

โ€œGood to hear. You know how I live for your approval,โ€ I deadpanned.

โ€œI do.โ€ He clapped me on the shoulder on his way out, and my annoyance ratcheted up another notch.

I couldnโ€™t believe I shared DNA with that guy.

When I turned back to Bridget, she was trying, and failing, to suppress a smile.

โ€œWhatโ€™s so funny?โ€

โ€œYou and Andreas. You bicker like Nik and I do.โ€ Her smile widened at the incomprehension on my face. โ€œYou bicker like siblings.โ€

Siblings.

It didnโ€™t hit me until that moment. Iโ€™d known Andreas was my brother, but he was myย brother.ย A real, albeit annoying, one I saw regularly. We argued all the time, but maybe that was just what siblings did, like Bridget said.

I wouldnโ€™t know. Iโ€™d been alone all my lifeโ€ฆuntil now. My stomach swooped with the oddest sensation.

โ€œI still donโ€™t trust him fully,โ€ I said. Cynicism was hard- wired into my DNA, and while Andreas hadnโ€™t done anything shady since I confronted him about being my brother, itโ€™d only been two months.

โ€œNeither do I, but letโ€™s stick with optimism for now. Besides, itโ€™ll be nice for you to have a brother here. Even if I wish he were lessโ€ฆโ€

โ€œAndreas-y?โ€

Bridget laughed. โ€œYes.โ€ โ€œHmm. Weโ€™ll see.โ€

I drew her closer and kissed her forehead. I could hear Boothโ€™s football game in the den, and our takeout containers lay scattered on the kitchen island along with Andreasโ€™s empty whiskey glass and the rumpled diagram heโ€™d drawn for me.

It didnโ€™t look like a royal gathering. It looked like a normal Wednesday night at home.

And as Bridget wrapped her arms around my waist and Andreas returned, grumbling about a delayed bachelor trip to Santorini, I finally identified the odd sensation gripping me.

It was the feeling of having a family.

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