Page 42 of Heavy Crown

“He’ll follow the will of the people,” I say. “He’s accepted his role as the center of this referendum. Everyone on the island realizes they’re voting as much in regards to their king as they are about a member of their own family.”

“I don’t understand how anyone can vote no on this.”

I chuckle. “Ask Nick. He only recently changed his mind.”

Brice shakes his head. “Asking Nick to explain himself might talk him back into his previous point of view. No thank you. I’m enjoying all of us being on the same page for once.”

“I can set up a panel, if you want? See about getting a televised debate?” I purse my lips. Not ideal given that a skilled debater could sway people in the wrong direction. “Or we keep going as we are. The press, social media, and local outreach. The more people we can speak to personally, the more connected everyone on the island will feel to our cause, to our situation, to the king himself.”

“No.” Brice shakes his head. “No public debate. You’re right. I got cold feet today when so many people were asking me about the odds of success at the facility.” He meets my gaze. “Christ, Alex. All this is going to be yours in a year.”

Another reality I try not to dwell on unless it’s convenient. While I’m already doing most of the job, I rely on my father for advice and an additional perspective. When he’s unable to offer that, I hope I’m ready.

Will I ever be ready?

“Prepared since birth.” The response might be glib, but Brice doesn’t need to hear my conflicted feelings when he’s deep in his own. Though I told Nick I wasn’t prepared for the responsibility, that was more to extend an olive branch to him than how I truly feel. There’s no doubt in my mind I can do the job. The real conflict resides in what I sacrifice to accept it. Not that I haven’t been giving most of those things up my whole life. Freedom, privacy, choice. The other side of the scale is power and influence, and for most of my life I have accepted that those gains must balance the loses.

Brice rises and shoves his hands into his pockets. “It’s okay to let your guard down once in a while. Nothing bad will happen if you let a crack of emotion through.”

That is where he’s wrong. Once a dam breaks, the deluge ruins everything in its path. The fortress I’ve built around myself protects me, but it shields everyone else too. There are some things in life that can’t be changed, and I’ve learned to accept that faster and better than anyone else. I don’t have time for wasted emotions and overblown feelings.

“I’m not built like you and Nick. If I must withstand something, I do. Can’t dwell on what cannot be changed.”

“For the record, this arranged marriage clause is bullshit. Sorry I haven’t offered better options. I find it hard to take the whole thing seriously.”

A more classic Brice response. Why take something that’ll literally dictate whether I can become king of Bellerive too seriously? “Desmond has advised me to close my eyes and think of Bellerive.”

Brice chuckles. “That’s funny, actually.”

“If you want me to keep you up-to-date on polling data, I can ask Desmond to include you in those briefings.”

“Would you?” He gives me a hopeful look. “Be nice to sleep better again.”

“Consider it done.” I rise and clap him on the shoulder. “It’ll be all right.” Except we both know, ultimately, it won’t be. We’re losing our father—one way or another.

He nods and heads for the door. “Good luck in Europe. While I realize you aren’t after what Nick and Jules have, I hope you find someone who supports you in the right ways.”

Then he goes and throws out a tidbit of wisdom, and he grows up right in front of my eyes. He oscillates between being the most helpful and the least helpful on a daily basis. “I’ll let you know when I figure out what that looks like.”

Brice grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Maybe you’ll discover love at first sight.”

Rory’s image rises in my mind, and I let her linger there before shoving the thought aside. “Sounds a bit too romantic for me. Tolerable to me and good for Bellerive. No point in creating a bar no one can reach.”

He searches my face for a beat. “See you when you get back.” He draws the door shut behind him, and I turn on my heel, staring at my phone. The right course of action is clear.

I have an early flight.

Rory cannot be anything more than my friend.

Keeping a sliver of distance between us is the right thing to do.

Rory answers the door, and the familiar pleased grin spreads across her face. My willpower not to text her only lasted five minutes after Brice left. When Rory messaged to wish me a good trip to Europe, instead of being consumed by guilt since she doesn’t know why I’m going, I longed to see her. Could anything keep me away?

“Moonlit walk?” I ask.

Her gaze sweeps over me, and she bites her lower lip. “You’re not wearing a suit.”

I chuckle. “I do own other clothes.”