Raymond tried to persuade Abbot Beech to let him have all his scientific equipment moved down to the palace from the monastery, as well as all his books. The abbot was reluctant. “You have the riches of the entire nation at your disposal, Juniper. You can afford newer, better things than what we have at the monastery.”
Before Raymond could answer, Alex stepped in. “You really must stop calling him that. He is no longer your Brother Juniper. He is Bulvania’s King Raymond XL.”
“Juniper is the name he took when he swore loyalty to God and our order. Juniper he will always be.”
“The world and history will know him as Raymond. That is sufficient for me. You do understand that he is king now, don’t you? Fully, legally king? With a wave of his hand he could have your monastery shuttered and take possession of everything in it.”
The abbot winced and addressed Raymond directly. “So it’s to be threats, is it?”
“No threats, abbot, none at all. I simply want my microscope and things.”
They bickered back and forth for another few minutes, and the abbot finally agreed to let Raymond take the things no one else in the monastery was qualified to use. There weren’t many, but Raymond was happy nonetheless not to have to take sterner action against the place that had been his home for most of his life. The one thing he agreed to let them keep was his mountaintop telescope; it was too big, too unwieldy and too outmoded to be worth moving. Alex suggested building a new observatory at the top of the palace, and they agreed that would be best. But that encounter was the end of Beech’s short tenure as the king’s spiritual adviser.
As the abbot was leaving, Raymond turned to Alex. “This being king isn’t shaping up the way I expected.”
“You’ll learn, Raymond. Kings don’t ask and they don’t negotiate. They take what they want.”
“You’re not describing kings, Alex. Those are despots.”
“It’s a matter of proportion. Kings take the microscopes they want. Despots take everything in sight, and they kill anyone who opposes them.” He dropped his schoolteacher manner. “Besides, if you don’t mind my saying so, you’d make a poor despot. Despots wear tailored suits, not homespun robes.” He couldn’t resist adding, “So do most kings, for that matter.”
Raymond ignored the little dig. “So, if there’s something I want, I just snap my fingers and it’s mine?”
“More or less, yes.”
“Good. Excellent. I want Logan Bockwein.”
Alex tried, unsuccessfully, to conceal his astonishment. Between his surprise at the new king and his memories of the previous one, it took him a moment to recover. “What?! Er, I mean, I beg your pardon, Raymond?”
“Don’t act so startled. Kings do have a right to choose their friends, don’t they?”
“F—f—friends? Uh, yes, of course they do, But—”
“Mr. Bockwein is a beautiful man.”
Beautiful? Hardly a word a heterosexual man would use about another one. Alex wondered if Raymond understood the nature of this attraction—if he understood his own nature. “But—but—he is an American. A member of the diplomatic corps. You don’t really have any authority to—”
“I want him here. I want that. You were just telling me that as king I can get anything I want, remember?”
“Anything in Bulvania, yes. But—”
“It’s not as if I want to order him to be my friend. I know how absurd that would be.” He lowered his eyes, and the tone of his voice softened. “I want to get to know him, Alex. He looks like the kind of friend I’ve always dreamed of having.”
“Friend.” Alex was deadpan. Raymond was certainly living up to his family’s long tradition of, well, of having “friends” of the same gender.
But Raymond didn’t seem to understand. In blank amazement he said, “Yes, friend. What else could I want him for?”
There was no point pushing. Raymond was young, and he was even more inexperienced than most men his age. Time would ripen him. But… Logan!
Raymond was certainly right; Logan was undoubtedly a beautiful man. But Alex couldn’t shake the image of Logan, naked and cavorting with the royal guards. Not only was he not a suitable partner for the young king, but Raymond—barely into his twenties, green, inexperienced and quite frankly scruffy—was hardly the kind of man who could capture his attention, much less hold it.
But there was tradition. With a good Bulvanian, there was always tradition. Alex’s family, the Borodenkos, had served Bulvania’s kings since the Middle Ages. Several of them had been their kings’ lovers, privately if not publicly. Alex knew it was his duty to see to Raymond’s happiness. He not only knew that, he felt it, deep in his bones.
But… Logan Bockwein!
Still, there had to be a way. There had to. It wouldn’t be easy, but…