Up for Heir - Stella Starling Page 0,104

figured out everything, was an expert on all of it, and Edvin loved her so fiercely he couldn’t stand it some times… even if she did spend a little too much time orbiting his cheeky valet.

Edvin bit back a smile. Astrid and Gerard were only a few years apart in age, and since Astrid had become the self-proclaimed protocol police after the Bloms had moved into the palace the summer before, The Proper Use of Titles (or lack thereof) had become something of a battle of wills between the two of them. Leo called it flirting, but with three younger sisters, Edvin had become a huge fan of strategic denial, so he categorically refused to accept that Astrid was old enough for him to start worrying about that sort of thing yet. Besides, if he’d wanted an excuse to worry about something, the fact that his wedding was about to be broadcast to the entire nation could easily have been in the running.

Edvin swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. The royal wedding was officially a Very Big Deal, and there had been rehearsals, of course, but not rehearsals with hundreds of eyes trained on him. Not rehearsals where Edvin was expected to stand up in front of everyone who mattered to him and say something important to the man he loved, all without his tongue tangling into a knot, breaking out in a cold sweat, or committing any other nationally-televised faux pas that might result in abject mortification for himself, his prince, the royal family, or the integrity of the nation of Rosavia as a whole… so it was a good thing all those flutters in his stomach weren’t nerves, wasn’t it?

He was definitely a little nauseous, though. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten any of the blueberry tarts Oliver had snuck into the dressing room earlier. In fact… oh Lord. He glanced down, brushing frantically at his pristine lapels. What if he’d gotten crumbs on himself?

“Some water to calm your nerves, Your Impending Regalness?” Gerard murmured quietly, materializing a glass out of seemingly thin air.

“Oh,” Edvin said, taking it with a slightly shaking hand. Hugo really had trained him well. “Um, th-th-thanks, Gerard.”

“Falk,” Astrid said, staring Gerard down with her hands on her hips. “That. Is. Not. Eddie’s. Title.”

“Indeed, Mistress of Protocol,” Gerard said agreeably. “Because as you’ve pointed out, your brother doesn’t officially have one yet.”

Astrid’s face turned thunderous.

Gerard winked at her.

Astrid turned pink, turning away quickly to adjust the dainty flowers woven through her hair, a tiny smile hovering around her mouth.

Edvin blinked. Oh Shizzle. Leo was right. They were flirting.

He drained his water glass, tabling that concern for later. “Do I, um, do I have any c-c-crumbs on me?” he asked, handing the empty glass back to Gerard.

“Of course not,” Gerard said, sounding so affronted that Edvin almost laughed… which helped, actually, with The Nerves That Would Not Be Named.

And honestly, even if it still felt a little weird having someone whose entire job consisted of fussing over him, Edvin had to admit that if he had to have a valet—which Leo insisted was an actual van Rosavia requirement and Edvin suspected was actually just another way his prince wanted to spoil him—he could definitely do worse than Hugo’s grandson… and, fine. So could Astrid, probably.

But not—and this was something Edvin would stand firm on no matter how often she accused him of being overprotective—at sixteen.

“It’s okay to be nervous, Eddie,” Linnea asked, coming up next to him and wrapping an arm around his waist so that they were both reflected in the full-length mirror. “You’re marrying the crown prince.”

“Oh nice, Linnie,” Tilde said, rolling her eyes. “Way to make it seem like it’s not a big deal when Eddie already looks like he wants to puke.”

“You don’t, sir,” Gerard murmured under his breath, slipping a monogrammed handkerchief into Edvin’s hand. “But perhaps you’ll want to blot your hairline.”

“I’m not n-n-nervous,” Edvin said, crumpling the handkerchief in his hand as he took a few of those mindfulness breaths Oliver was always going on about in an effort to make that statement true.

“Of course you’re not. I mean, it’s just Leo,” Astrid said, then blushed hard as her eyes darted toward Gerard. “I mean, His Highness,” she added quickly.

Oliver snickered and Tilde rolled her eyes again, Gerard grinned and Linnea giggled, and all of a sudden Edvin really wasn’t nervous, because Astrid was right. It was just Leo, and no matter how many eyes were going to be on