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“No. He was raised to feel that he was never good enough. He had all the pressure on him as a youth, and now, he has none of the power. I, on the other hand, was relatively free to scamper about the palace. I, you see, was only the spare. The child no one expected to take the throne. I was royal but I was also free. And now, I am a grown man and I find I have everything Ra’if worked so hard for.”
“Poor Ra’if,” she murmured sympathetically. “That must have been a miserable childhood.”
Zamir nodded gravely. “For us, the royal bloodline isn’t simply a matter of birth. Our blood is truly believed to imbue us with almost super-human abilities.”
“You’re being serious?”
“Absolutely. In the same way the Romans deified their leaders, my people look at my father almost as God-like.”
“Then I was right. It’s a pretty sucky way to live, being you full time.”
His gruff laugh was rich with amusement. “Well, perhaps in some ways. But the potential to make a difference is enormous.” His eyes were thoughtful. “My brother though will never live up to his potential.”
“That isn’t your fault.”
“No. But it is my burden.”
She was quiet as his words sunk in. “You’ll wear that burden for the rest of your life. You might have enjoyed freedom as a child, but you never will again.”
“No,” he agreed softly.
“You aren’t free to come and go as you please. And you aren’t really free to make your own life decisions.”
“Such as?” He prompted quietly.
“Such as where you’ll live. And who you’ll marry,” she said pulling her fingers away from his. “That kind of thing.”
He didn’t say anything. What could he? She was right. His bride would be a carefully selected contender; a woman of perfect breeding and political advantage.
“So what do you do when you go see him?” She asked, changing the subject clunkily back to Ra’if.
“I talk with him. I encourage him. I urge him not to lose hope.” He ran a hand through her hair. It was soft like the petals of the Lazina flowers that covered the desert in winter. “We also play Monopoly.”
“Monopoly?” She burst out laughing.
“What is funny about that?”
“It’s just not what I expected,” she said, trying to quiet her amusement from her voice.
“Hasbro gave us a special edition board one Christmas. It has all of the landmarks of our capital city, and the pieces are busts of the royal family, including the pet we adored as children.”
“You celebrate Christmas?”
He nodded. “Yes. The country is of diverse faith. We mark many events; Christmas is one of them.”
“I had no idea.” She smiled up at him and her whole face sparkled. “That’s quite lovely.” Her eyes met his, and a charge of emotion fired between them. “Who’s better?”
“Ra’if, usually. At the moment, me.”
“You don’t let him win?”
“That would kill him. He already feels like a failure. If I gave him pity Monopoly victories, he would certainly wither away.” He grinned though. “I’ve been waiting all my life to beat him. He keeps pointing out that it took something as severe as his withdrawal from heroin addiction to make it possible.”
She laughed, but his words were sobering. “Is that what it was? Heroin?”
“Heroin. Cocaine. Ecstasy. Anything he could get his hands on, and in massive quantities.”
“Since when?”
