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He hushes me, glancing around to make sure no one overheard. If it were up to him, he’d probably stay in the Royal Air Force as long as possible. I’ve never seen anyone love flying as much as he does.
In another life, maybe he would have been a pilot.
But he doesn’t get to follow his dreams. Instead, he’s forced to live a life that’s been planned for him.
“Regardless, if I weren’t currently doing my four years of service, I’d be the one on the proverbial chopping block. Hell, once my deployment is up, I most likely will be. I can only hope the royal household chooses someone halfway decent for me.”
“But what about someone of your choosing? I understand the requirement for you both to marry in order to continue the family line. Produce an heir and a spare, and all that. But why the rush? Why force either of you to marry someone? Why not wait until you’ve fallen in love?”
“Love?” Anderson comes to an abrupt stop outside of the military operations building on the palace grounds.
When most people hear palace, they think it’s just one building. Like a mansion on steroids. In reality, it’s more like a university campus comprised of several buildings serving different purposes.
“This may be a difficult concept for you to grasp, but most normal people marry for love.”
“Ah. Therein lies your problem, Creed. Esme and me… We’re not normal people. And don’t you know?” He stands tall, his expression stiff, making it appear as if he has a stick shoved up his ass. “There’s no place for love in a monarchy.”
I don’t even question who he’s mocking. It’s apparent from the proper tone it’s his grandmother. Queen Veronica. The Queen Mother.
She may be part of the royal family through marriage, but she was essentially raised to be queen. And during her time as Queen, and now Queen Mother, she’s certainly earned the respect, always putting the monarchy first.
Even over her own family.
“You care about her.”
“What?” I tear my gaze to him, suddenly feeling defensive.
And guilty, even though I didn’t do anything wrong.
I wanted to, though.
My god, I still want to.
“Esme. You care about her. I do, too. But you don’t need to worry about her. We may not have much say over the bigger things in life. Like I had no choice about what I was to study at university. Or about serving our country in the military. Just like Esme had no choice about serving her country in the Humanitarian Corps. It’s all part of our duty to the crown. And every day, it seems my grandmother comes up with more and more duties to the crown. All things that are out of our control. We can complain about it all we want, but it won’t change things. You should know as well as I do there are certain traditions that simply can’t be changed.” He gives me a knowing look.
Lately, I’ve become painfully aware of that fact. Hell, just in the past hour, I have.
“So instead of bitching and moaning about the things you can’t change, you learn to take advantage of the things you can control. You celebrate the small victories. The small ‘fuck yous’, so to speak. That makes all of this suck a little less.”
“And Esme being forced to marry a man she didn’t choose? What’s going to make that suck a little less?”
“Esme’s always been an extremely resourceful woman.” He winks. “I’m sure she’ll figure out something.”
“I’m sure she will indeed,” I mutter as I follow him inside the building, desperate to take out some of this aggression with a bit of target practice.
All the while, imagining Jameson Gates’ face on one of the targets.
Is it immature?
Most definitely.
But right now, it’s the only thing that will make this hurt a little less.
Chapter Nine
Esme
I shouldn’t be this nervous. I go to black-tie charity events all the time. Especially those benefiting causes I promote, like mental health awareness, prevention of domestic violence, and multiple sclerosis research, in honor of my mother’s battle with the disease. Tonight’s gala in support of eliminating human trafficking, particularly in Europe, which has a tendency to be a hotspot, is yet another cause I champion.
