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“Maybe going public with it is what you need to finally come to terms with it. Toacceptthis.”
He parts his lips, but I cut him off before he can say anything.
“Like I told you all those weeks ago, I don’t think for a second anyone will see it as a weakness, despite what the establishment wants you to believe. I didn’t press the issue because I figured you needed some time to adjust. Not just to this, but also everything…else,” I say, not wanting to bring up Nora right now. “But you’ve been back for over a month now, Anders. You’ve beenpretendingfor over a month. It’s got to be exhausting.”
“You have no bloody idea,” he exhales, his entire body relaxing, as if the weight he’s been carrying for weeks has finally disappeared.
“Don’t carry it all. Mum did that, too. She pushed everyone away, made it her burden to bear. I don’t want that to be you. I don’t want to lose you, too,” I choke out, the tears I’ve kept at bay all night streaming down my cheeks. “You’re the only family I have left.”
He swallows hard, his own eyes glistening with emotion. “You won’t lose me, Esme. I promise.”
I exhale deeply, finding comfort in his reassurance.
“Then stop being so goddamn stubborn and just admit you can’t do it all on your own.” I playfully punch his arm. “For fuck’s sake. I’m convinced the men in this country were born with extra-thick skulls. You’re all bloody stubborn.”
A raspy chuckle falls from his throat, and I’ve never been so happy to hear my brother laugh. “I’ll be sure to take that under advisement.”
“You do that.” I flash him a smile before my expression falls. “But I’m serious, Anders. You don’t have to carry this alone. Not anymore. I’m here to help you relieve some of the burden. So let me do that.”
“What about your life in Paris?”
I narrow my gaze on him. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been pushing yourself like this so I’d be able to go back to Paris.”
He simply shrugs.
“Anders,” I sigh, grabbing his hand in mine. “I agreed to stay for you. Tohelpyou. As long as you need me here, I’ll be here.”
He closes his eyes, the weight visibly lifting off his shoulders. When he returns his gaze to me, emotion swirls within his blue orbs, allowing me to see the vulnerability he hides from everyone else.
“I need you, Ezzy.”
His confession hangs heavy in the air, and I squeeze his hand.
“Then I’m here. No matter what.”
ChapterSixteen
Esme
I lookaround my father’s conference room, the walls dark with gold leaf, our family crest displayed prominently on the wall as a reminder of who we are. I remain as composed as possible, pretending being here doesn’t bring back memories of all those years ago when the royal household attempted to marry me off to a man I didn’t choose, planning my future without giving me a voice in the matter.
It doesn’t help many of the same people are present at this privy council meeting, including Jameson Gates.
I haven’t seen him since the night of the opera.
The night I looked into Gianna’s death and learned the man accused of her murder died in an accident while being transported to his arraignment, and the company who owned and operated that prison transport van was none other than Gates Enterprises.
I’d convinced myself it was all a coincidence.
That any unease I felt was just because I was around all these people again.
But I still can’t help but feel like I’m missing something.
I don’t have time to dwell on it too much, though. Not when Pippa, the new head of public relations, shifts gears from discussing preparations for the traditional midnight service on Christmas Eve to the upcoming goodwill trip.
“As noted previously, we believe it’s in the monarchy’s best interests for Prince Gabriel to go this year. Not only will you be retiring in less than two years…” She looks from my father, addressing the rest of the council, “but with the referendum on the ballot next year, it’s imperative we remind people who they’re voting for. Prince Gabriel is extremely popular, especially with the younger demographic, who make up the majority of those in favor of turning the monarch into a ceremonial role. We can use that popularity to our advantage.”
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” I interject without a care for the typical rules of procedure. “Prince Gabriel won’t be able to make the trip.”
