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“Yes,” he says. Simple as that.
He’s humoring me; that must be the case.
“For you to understand what I’m feeling, I have to go back fifteen years. Do you really want to hear this?”
“If we could just sit a moment before my heart explodes,” he says.
I take pity on him because he is somewhat out of breath. I nod toward a nearby rock formation, where we take a break. He hands me a water bottle before he takes a drink. I chug some of it and hand it back to him, only to have him wave it off, telling me to keep it.
My heart squeezes.
“In my first year at university, I shared a suite with a set of twins Kirsten and Kelly. They were fun and friendly and easy to get along with at first.
“Having to share a suite in and of itself was concerning, but that was the price of attending a no-frills university on my terms, away from the control of my stepmother. I know how privileged that sounds, but I like my privacy.”
Etienne interjects, “Remember whom you are speaking to about privilege. I’m the wastrel prince, remember?”
I wince at the idea of him believing what people say about him.
“Anyway. Over time, Kirsten and Kelly became bolder with their questions about my failed arrangement with your brother Torben. The story was largely kept out of the press, but they seemed to have sleuthed out specific details. They finally admitted they ran a royal watcher account on social media but promised they had no interest in blogging or posting about me. Still, they were curious, wanting to know every sordid detail under the guise of comforting me. I was still raw, you see.
“I branched out and made other friends, as one does at university. The twins followed and inserted themselves into all my activities. Eventually, others grew bored with their constant chatter about my tenuous connections to the royal family. One of our friends, Cory, once shut them down at a party. I thought that was the end of their nosy behavior.
“They were ingratiating in small ways—bringing me coffee, helping me with my tech problems—and I felt guilty every time I got annoyed with them.
Etienne wipes the sweat from his brow, still catching his breath. But he’s listening.
And oh, does that make me feel things. It makes me regret the terrible news that’s coming.
“The last straw came over one summer break when they asked if I could introduce them to the Haart family. At that moment, I realized their kindness had been all about that. I gently ghosted them after that. I spent time learning about boundary pushers and did my best to be kind but firm. They didn’t like that. And yet they still maintained friendships with mutuals, and I could do nothing about that.
“Fast forward to today…oh god, it sounds so petty saying all this out loud.”
Etienne leans forward. “You’ve seen the way my siblings and I argue. We hold grudges over things that occurred when we were toddlers.”
I chuckle, but it sounds strangled, as I’m working to keep the tears at bay—the tears I’ve been willing away by running for hours.
“So today, when I opened my social media, lo and behold, I had been added to a new group chat by one of the twins. Kirsten or Kelly? I don’t recall which one. They were both there, along with a handful of people from university. And it was just awful news.”
Etienne leans forward, his gaze full of concern. “What happened?”
“The message said, ‘Hey guys, just letting you know that our friend Cory died in an accident two days ago.’
“I’m gutted. This man leaves a wife behind. And here I am, stewing over being added to a silly group chat I never consented to. About a man they haven’t seen in ten years, nor with whom they were ever truly friends. It’s wrong that I feel this upset at the twins for delivering this news to me, isn’t it?”
Etienne studies me for a long, long moment as I squirm, sweat from my run trickling down my face. I feel exposed, sad, and drained. I ready myself for a verbal assault. I prepare to hear I’m being small and selfish.
“I agree with you. That was not cool.”
He…agrees with me?
“It really wasn’t,” I burst out, my shoulders sagging as if a weight as been lifted.
“It was fucked up. Disgusting.”
“I know, right?” I want to cry from relief.
“You should be learning about this awful tragedy from someone connected to the family. Not in a DM of a gossipy estranged mutual acquaintance.”
