Page 61 of Heavy Crown

“We signed a contract with Denmark last weekend for a wedding in seven months. They called this morning to find out whether we were going back on our deal.” The queen is in fine form. “I realize it may not feel like it, but you are engaged to someone else now.”

“They should know better,” I say. “Gossip and truth share very few markers.” The engagement feels like a stretch even though it’s true.

“The problem,” the king cuts in before my mother can continue to rage, “is that this isn’t the only outlet reporting a secret affair between you two. We don’t need to know the details, but we need the relationship to cease.”

“We’re not engaged in an affair.” Though, I’m becoming less opposed to that line of thinking when I should be appalled by it. Princess Simone of Denmark will be my wife within the year.

“Son.” He holds up the cover of the magazine where Rory and I are locked into a dip, our lips dangerously close together. “This exchange between the two of you says otherwise. Anyone with eyes can see.”

I run my hands down my face and sit forward. We aren’t engaged in anything, but I can’t disagree about the photo. The sentiment behind the picture is accurate. On the dance floor, no one else mattered but her. Her elevated importance is bleeding into the rest of my life, and I understand how dangerous that is—for me, for her, for the country.

“I’ll cut off my friendship with her by Nick and Julia’s wedding. You can reassure Simone and her family there is nothing happening between me and Rory. A friendship. I swear on my life. I swear on grandmother’s grave. Whoever took that photo got lucky and caught something that doesn’t represent how we feel. The implication sells magazines and nothing more.”

The queen sucks her teeth in distaste. “Alexander, going into a marriage with Simone when she believes this is how you’ll behave doesn’t bode well for anyone’s happiness.”

Funny, I didn’t realize happiness was the priority. “I’ll be more careful. After Simone and I reveal our relationship at Nick and Julia’s wedding, this supposed tryst with Rory won’t mean anything to anyone.” Except me. “The public and the press will be too caught up in the notion of Bellerive being linked to Denmark.”

“If you lead Aurora on,” the king says, “she could go to the press after the fact and claim you treated her poorly. They’ll be on her side with the car accident, the apartment, and the job. It’ll look as though you instated her as your mistress and then abandoned her. True or not, that can easily be the narrative here.”

“I’m not leading her on,” I grit out. “She’s aware that nothing can happen between us.”

“You’re headed down a path meant to break your own heart,” my mother says. “I can’t understand why you would do this.”

Because I can’t help myself. The thought of no longer having Rory in my life is agony. While I’ve said I’ll cut her out, I’m not sure how I’ll do that. Maybe she’ll abandon me once she realizes I’ve been keeping all these royal secrets.

“You’re overreacting—again.” It’s not the first time the king and queen have had a fit about how something looks in the press or social media where I am concerned. There were literal pictures of Nick’s dick circulating when he was in college, and other than some tsking, no one seemed to care. I dance with a woman who is my friend, and they lose their ever-loving minds.

“The rules of succession are very clear. A native of Bellerive or a member of a royal family,” the queen says. “I understand why you might be attracted to her. She’s beautiful.”

She’s so much more than beautiful.

“But it cannot be.” She shakes her head. “You’d have to step down to be with her. Leave the monarchy. Nick or Brice would have to agree to take your place. Is that the road you want to take?”

The thought of either Nick or Brice in my shoes makes me cringe. Brice is too young, and Nick is too fickle. On top of that, I love my country, and I was born to be king. Whatever is happening with Rory doesn’t change my birthright.

“The only person who is putting Rory ahead of the country,” I say, “is you.” On that note, I’m done with being scolded for dancing at my father’s birthday party. “If you need me to call Simone personally, please let Desmond know. Otherwise, I’d prefer not to speak to either of you until you get some perspective. It was one dance at a party where everyone was dancing. I’m not sleeping with her. We’re not secretly dating. I haven’t asked to marry her. There have been no threats from me about stepping down or needing a loophole. I agreed to the arranged marriage and signed the contract. Rory is my friend.” I say all of it with conviction, but inside I’m less convinced.

Desmond rises with me, a silent witness to the messiness that is my relationship with the king and queen who also happen to be my parents.

On the way out the door, Desmond says, “Well, that went well.”

I bark out a laugh. “Now I remember why I don’t do impulsive things.”

“Didn’t used to do impulsive things. Been a whole lot of ‘screw it, do it anyway’ going on with you the last couple of weeks.”

“You’re right.” I enter my office and stop in the doorway so he can’t follow. “I’ve been letting too many people get away with too many things.”

“That’s not—” Desmond starts.

“Including you. I didn’t ask for your opinion on the Rory situation, and I don’t want it. Consider her, as a topic, off-limits. You may pass that decree along to my parents as well. I am no longer discussing my friendship with Aurora Wilson with anyone.”

“Your Highness,” Desmond says.

Then I shut the door in his face.

I haven’t left my office all day, and Rory hasn’t turned up with my regular cream tea. Instead, Joyce, the head cook, served it to me with a frown creasing her brow. I’m sure my mother believes she’s being helpful by telling the staff to no longer allow Rory to serve me, but I won’t be putting up with her interference.

My father’s diagnosis has caused her to get too big for her britches. Instead of being the voice of reason in the background, she’s become the driving force of my displeasure. Whether my father no longer completely trusts his instincts, or she doesn’t trust his mind, our mother-son relationship is in danger of fracturing. She used to be the one counselling my father not to be too hard on me, but now they both expect things I may not be able to deliver.