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“I wanted to just be gone for a long time. For as long as I could remember, I dreamed about escaping the responsibilities of the Crown. But I never imagined it would be possible. Now…now I hardly know who I am anymore.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I guess it makes sense that we’re related, doesn’t it? Both of us never wanted the lives we were handed,” he said before looking up at me again, but his eyes were unfocused. I opened my mouth to protest, but he waved his hand. “I saw you come home with bloody knuckles, your eyes wide like you’d seen a ghost. I never asked about it, mostly because I knew you’d never tell me. Also, because I didn’t see the point.”
“I wouldn’t have told you,” I admitted. It wasn’t his burden to bear.
“Where’s Christine?” he asked suddenly, and then he leaned forward, knocking into the desk and sending the whiskey bottle to the floor. I stepped in and caught it before spilling more than a few drops. He looked at me with a furious glare and then pushed his chair back. “Christine,” he growled. “Where the fuck is she?”
“She’s resting,” I said, standing back.
“I need to call off the engagement,” he said.
He fell forward and hit the floor hard. I hurried around the desk just as he started to roll, his arm flailing out, knocking books to the floor.
I reached out, fingers closing around his forearm, just above the elbow, and hauled him upright. “You will do no such thing.”
He scrunched his face up and looked at me. “What’s the point? Why fight Lord Nathan, Atticus? Yeah, he’s a prick. But if he’s telling everyone I’m not the rightful king, then it seems to me I just got out of running the kingdom. That’s a good thing. Christine won’t have to go back to that damn castle. I won’t have to disappoint everyone. Win. Win. Win.”
“That’s some selfish shit. Don’t you think?” I chastised him, shaking his arm. He frowned and then looked toward the bookshelf. “Let’s get you to bed.”
He bumped into me, pushing me back. I stumbled and then looked down to see him sitting on the floor. He was still staring at the damn bookshelf. I followed his gaze, and sure enough, his eyes were tracking the spine of one book, which was facing back toward the wall. He reached over, his fingers wrapping around it, and then he pulled it out.
“Look at that,” he said in his raspy voice. “A photo album.”
He wiped dust off the spine and pried it open with sluggish hands, staring at each photo like the images were precious. “Here’s a photo at a diplomats’ dinner,” he said. “Christine looks so tiny.”
I peered over his shoulder to look at the photo and smiled at the image. Christine was wearing a frilly pink dress and holding her mother’s hand, a broad smile stretched across her face.
“And here’s one of me,” he continued. “It’s the State Dinner for Oak Palace, I think. I was ten, maybe? So young. The House of Rose always accompanied us to all the functions.”
“You look like a prick,” I joked, nudging his side.
Christine’s father stood beside him, and on the other side was King Frederick, who looked as snide then as he did the day he died.
Augustus’s fingers trailed over the photo, the warm fireplace, the fancy dress uniforms. He closed the album and then looked back up at me; his face was blank. “Frederick tried to teach me how to rule the country,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “They tried to groom me and turn me into a king. But I never wanted it, and I’m not good enough to do it. I’m not a good man, Atticus. I am not a good king. I never wanted to be. This is my chance, you know?”
“Augustus, I think you need to—”
My voice was cut off by Leo barging into the room. His green eyes were wide with worry. “We have a problem.”
Augustus tried to stand but was too drunk. Fuck. “What’s going on?”
Leo ran his hands through his hair. “Lord Nathan attacked two Houses today. The House of Pearl and the House of Brooke.”
I scrunched my face up in confusion. “What purpose does he have for doing this?”
Leo shook his head. “At first, I wasn’t sure. They’re high-ranking Houses but still a strange target.” He eyed something on the bookshelf and snapped his fingers. “But then I got to thinking,” he said before marching over to a collection of scrolls and flipping through them.
“Can you think a little quieter? My head hurts,” Augustus complained, testing my patience.
When Leo found the scroll he was looking for, he yanked it out and unrolled it on the desk. I peered at it. “This is the bloodline for the throne. What does this have to do with anything?”
He dragged his finger along the parchment and pointed at the bottom. “Here is Lord Nathan. House of Redwood. Unimpressive. Lower ranking. About eight hundred people have to die before he gets into power.”
I shrugged. Lord Nathan would have to spill a lot of blood before he was even close, and even though he was gaining momentum, he didn’t have the resources for an all-out war. “But here,” Leo added. “Here are the Houses attacked today. No survivors.”
Augustus pulled himself up and leaned on the desk to look at what Leo was saying.
