Jun 16, 2026 My sister thought my Navy uniform would ruin her royal wedding. So she erased me from the guest list, smiled for the cameras, and pretended I did not exist

a photo on the table.

A small silver bracelet lay on a blue cloth, dented and scratched. Inside the curve, barely visible, were engraved initials.

N.S.A.

Nikolai Stefan Arven.

The missing prince.

My chest tightened.

“Where is he now?”

The room went dangerously quiet.

The king looked at the photograph, not me.

“That is what we do not yet know.”

I stared at him.continue reading …