Theo nodded, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. “He's all I have.”
The simple statement hung in the air between us, weighted with implications. I thought of my own family—complicated, frustrating, but always there. I couldn't imagine being so alone in the world, having only one person to rely on.
“What about you?” Theo asked, clearly wanting to shift focus away from himself. “What's it like being a duke? Do you have like, royal duties and stuff?”
“Yes, I have ‘royal duties and stuff.’” I couldn't help smiling at his phrasing. “Avaline is small but proud of its heritage. My father is the reigning monarch, which makes my brother Remy the crown prince and heir. As duke, I handle diplomatic relations, charity patronages, cultural initiatives. The less glamorous aspects of maintaining a modern monarchy.”
“And do you like it? Being a duke?”
The question gave me pause. No one had ever asked me that before. My title wasn't a job I had chosen or could resign from. It was my identity, my birthright, my burden. Ministers, advisors, even close friends approached me with deference, their questions always carefully framed to acknowledge my position, never to question it.
Yet here was Theo, in his borrowed robe with tousled hair, asking me directly about my feelings as if I were any other person. As if my answer mattered not because of what it might reveal about state affairs, but because he genuinely wanted to know me.
“I've never known anything else,” I said finally. “But I find satisfaction in service, in using my position to effect positive change.”
“That's not really answering the question,” Theo pointed out, his gaze direct and challenging in a way few people dared with me. No hesitation, no careful diplomatic framing. Just honest observation.
In Avaline, such directness would be considered impertinent, even from senior officials. Yet from Theo, it felt refreshing rather than offensive, a reminder that here, I was valued for my humanity, not my title.
I laughed, surprised by his perception and my own reaction to it. “No, I suppose it isn't.” I considered my answer more carefully, feeling strangely liberated by his straightforwardness. “There are aspects I enjoy. The travel, meeting people from different cultures, supportingcauses I believe in. But the constant scrutiny, the lack of privacy, the expectations...” I shook my head. “Those I could do without.”
“Like having to hide who you really are?” Theo asked quietly.
His insight caught me off guard. “Yes,” I admitted. “Exactly like that.”
“That must be exhausting.”
“It is,” I agreed, finding unexpected relief in the simple acknowledgment. “In Avaline, I am always the Duke, always performing the role expected of me. Here...” I gestured to the space between us. “Here, I can just be Ricard.”
“I like Ricard,” Theo said, his smile soft and genuine. “He's pretty cool.”
The compliment, simple as it was, warmed something in me. “Thank you. I like him too, when I get the chance to be him.”
We fell into a comfortable silence, sipping our coffee as the morning light strengthened around us. A gentle breeze carried the scent of desert sage and distant rain. In this moment, with Theo beside me, I felt a peace I rarely experienced, a sense of being exactly where I belonged.
“What about your brother?” Theo asked, eventually. “What's he like?”
I sighed, setting my empty cup on the small table between us. “Remy is... complicated. Charming, charismatic, beloved by the public. He can walk into a room and make everyone feel like his best friend.” I shook my head, remembering countless state functions where Remy had worked the crowd while I stood stiffly by. “But he's also reckless, impulsive, with little regard for consequences.”
“The headlines,” Theo said, understanding dawning in his eyes. “About the affair.”
“One of many indiscretions,” I confirmed. “Though this one has particularly unfortunate timing, with the fortieth anniversary celebrations approaching.”
“And you have to clean up his mess?”
“Someone has to,” I said, unable to keep the weariness from my voice. “My parents are... traditional. They struggle to adapt to modern media scrutiny. So it falls to me to manage the PR crisis, to ensure the monarchy emerges unscathed.”
“That's a lot of responsibility for something you didn't cause.”
I smiled ruefully. “Welcome to royal life.”
Theo was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “You know, my brother Casey. Before his accident, he was always the responsible one. The planner, the caretaker. I was more like your brother, I guess. Living in the moment, not thinking about consequences.”
“What changed?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Everything,” Theo said simply. “When someone you love needs you, you step up. You become the person they need you to be.”
His words resonated deeply, articulating something I'd felt but never expressed. “Yes,” I agreed softly. “That's exactly it.”
