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“Really?” I asked. “I had no idea that they had a double-barrel last name, they never mentioned it,” I shook my head, confused. “I thought it was just Smith.”
“No honey,” replied Violet. “Because my maiden name is Smith, they usually just use that alone. But the second part,” she said, her voice trailing off.
“The second name is their dad’s,” I finished for her. “But why is that so significant now? Is it because he’s here somewhere?” I asked, craning my head.
“Oh he’s here,” she replied, a single tear spilling down her cheek now, “he’s here.”
I couldn’t tell if it was a tear of joy or sadness because Violet was staring at the dais the entire time. And I couldn’t see that anything was wrong per se, except that the King seemed tightlipped suddenly, moving about stiffly as he touched both Karl and Kato’s shoulders with a massive staff, inducting them into the Legionnaires.
And after it was done, Kristian stepped forward, face oddly pale, expression unreadable.
“Welcome brothers, into the fraternity. Let the revelry begin.”
And with that, the ceremony ended, the party starting up again. But what was I missing? Why did everyone look so stunned?
“Violet, what’s going on? What does everyone know that I don’t?” I demanded, swiveling to my companion.
And the older woman looked at me, her face wet with tears now.
“Their last name is Venetia because it’s the last name of the royal family here,” she said simply. “King Georg is their father.”
And I gasped, my outburst drowned out by the din of the crowd, the thin strains of the orchestra. Karl and Kato were the sons of the King? That made them princes too … and half-brothers of Prince Kristian? Holy fuck, I’d been having sex with not two brothers, but three?
KATO
We gathered in a drawing room, a small group, Karl and I, Kristian and the King, plus our mom and Tina. A couple Legionnaires stood attendance outside the door, making sure no one would enter. And good thing because as soon as the door shut, Georg burst into a rage.
“You ho!” he screeched at Violet. “What are you doing here? Why are you here? To wreck my life like you did once already?”
I stepped forward immediately, glowering, my big form ready to do some serious damage, King or not.
“Don’t talk to our mother that way,” I hissed, hand raised.
And my brother was one step behind, the look on his face twisted and ugly.
“Stand down, fucker,” he spat. “Stand the fuck down.”
And yeah, we’re professional soldiers, I have no doubt of the impression we made. Two huge, athletic men, towering, dominating one fat paunchy dude, it was no match, no match at all. No weapons needed, just give us two seconds flat and he’d be a fucking mess on the floor.
But Violet, despite having two circles of scarlet high on her cheekbones, was no shrinking violet. She gave as good as she got, and this time was no exception.
“They’re your sons, you’ve always known that,” she spat, eyes shooting sparks. “You’ve shirked your paternal obligations for years now,years,” she hissed. “You need to man up and recognize.”
And I expected Georg to make some lame excuse about being busy, how he had a country to run, honor to uphold, all that bullshit. But instead, he turned it right back on Violet.
“I had no choice,” he ground out. “Ihaveto live in St. Venetia, I’m the fucking King! You had to live in buttfuck nowhere, a little town with what? Fifty people? What did you expect me to do? Move to Smallville, USA? Leave my people behind? Give up the throne?”
WTF? Violet had always told us that our dad had had no interest in us, that we were an accident, a literal flying fuck as part of the Mile High Club. So what was this stuff about wanting to know us? Had our mom never given him a chance, keeping us sequestered and out of his reach?
But before I could ask, Violet started hurling epithets too.
“Well I couldn’t take it!” she screeched, “I couldn’t stand the fact that you always had me in the closet, your ho that you fucked whenever it was convenient. All because of you and your need for ‘royal blood,’” she mimed with air quotes. “What the fuck is wrong with being a commoner? I’m human, I’m good enough.”
Holy shit. Georg had looked down on Violet because she wasn’t nobility? I could see why she was so angry, she’s American and there isn’t any real nobility in the United States, just fake royals like the Kardashians.
But that was neither here nor there, and Georg responded from left field, sparring from a completely different angle, making my breath catch, my chest grow tight.
“Stop making this about ‘royal blood,’” he shot back, “because you know it was never about that. I couldn’t date you, I couldn’t marry you because I didn’t have any money,” he ground out. “I explained it to you. My family didn’t have any money, we were living a lie pretending to be something we weren’t, and I had to marry a rich woman just to keep a roof over our heads, so my parents could continue their farce. What don’t you get that? You’ll never understand what loyalty is, what family duty is,” he said bitterly.
