Erik
Meetings with the royal family went on forever. As sixth in line to the throne of Limaj, I’d never understood why I had to be at these meetings every six months, but my father and uncle both seemed to think it was necessary. There was a weird vibe today, though, and as I strode through the halls of my country’s Parliament House, no one was making eye contact. The idea that I was in trouble briefly flitted across my mind, but I shook it off. My position within the family was mostly that of an ambassador, with no real duties to speak of since almost everything I did included getting the world’s best education and making appearances at this charity or that sporting event. I showed up at dinner parties I was told to attend, went out with women who would make good potential wives, and generally kept to myself.
I spotted my best friend/cousin, companion and bodyguard, Sandor, and breathed a sigh of relief. I joined him by the doors that led to the royal family’s private conference room and leaned against the wall.
“What the hell is going on here today?” I muttered under my breath. “Did someone die?”
He grimaced. “No, but apparently your sister has everyone on a tear.”
“Fuck. What did she do?”
“She’s getting a divorce.”
“A divorce?” I stared at him as if I’d never heard the word before. “But…”
“Yeah, I know.” His eyes met mine, and sudden understanding washed over me.
“Sonofabitch. Did he hurt her?”
Sandor nodded. “She’s in the hospital. He did a number on her.”
I whirled around, searching the hallway. “Where’s my father? For that matter, where’s the king?”
“Calm down, my friend.” Sandor tried to grab my arm, but I was already moving, heading toward the king’s office, even though he rarely used it. If nothing else, his assistant would be there to tell me where he was.
“Erik.” My father’s voice froze me in my tracks, and I turned, gearing up for an argument.
“He hit her? Omar fucking put her in the hospital?” I was pissed and didn’t care who heard me.
“Calm down,” my father replied, eyeing me with a warning look.
I didn’t back down, though, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Where is he?”
“At home, I assume.”
“I’m going to kill him.” I turned, but my father grabbed my arm and held fast.
“You’ll do nothing. The council is about to meet, and we’ll decide what to do as a whole.”
“Seriously? The council? With their antiquated legalities and old-school morality, they’ll probably pat him on the back!” I didn’t have much power, but I had a voice, and while I rarely spoke up when it came to matters of state, this was my sister.
“Nice to know you think so highly of your old uncle.” My father’s brother, King Isak, gave me a fond but wry smile as he approached us.
I respected him but rarely agreed with the policies of our country. One of many reasons I hated these meetings. “I apologize, Your Majesty, but you know how I feel about this topic.”
“Indeed, I do. Believe it or not, I agree with you. But we have rules of law we must follow and a process that’s been in place—”
“For so many years no one even remembers how it works anymore.” I refused to look away, even when everyone around us averted their eyes.
“Let’s continue this discussion in the conference room, shall we?” This time his look was more meaningful, and I nodded, understanding that these types of conversations needed to be held in private, no matter how upset I was.
We filed into the conference room where a veritable breakfast feast had been set up, and everyone made their way to the food. I held back, going to the coffee bar instead and having the barista my uncle employed for these meetings make me a cappuccino. I took it and sank into my usual place next to my father, who sat on the king’s left side. We always sat in the same places, with my father, me, my cousins Daniil, Sandor and Vardan to the king’s left. The king’s sons—my cousins Anwar, Yusef, and Rafael—sat to his right, in order of their birth. It was usually a bunch of bureaucratic bullshit, but something was different today. I exchanged a look with my dad, who didn’t look happy.
“Good morning.” King Isak didn’t stand on ceremony at these meetings. We were all immediate heirs of the royal family and since nothing much ever happened when we met, most of the time we shot the shit for a while, went over our official duty schedule for the next six months, and then discussed random laws and other boring matters of state. At some point, they brought in a fabulous lunch, and if we were lucky, we’d be out on the golf course by five. Sometimes, it was more like three.
“We’ll start today’s meeting by discussing the situation with Skye.” King Isak looked down at some papers and made a face. “Our laws allow for a husband to punish his wife, so we’ll have to tread carefully if we’re interested in filing any charges.”
Anwar, the king’s oldest son and heir to the throne, rolled his eyes. “She probably deserved it.”
I tensed, but my father gripped my forearm under the table, the force telling me he would handle this.
“Anwar, you disappoint me.” My father, Prince Benjamin al-Hassani, spoke in a bland, almost bored voice. “This is the twenty-first century, not the Middle Ages. Is this how you plan to treat your wife?”
“My wife will know her place. You’ve lived in America so long you’ve forgotten that we still enforce boundaries here.”
“I’ve got a boundary that keeps me from kicking your ass into the middle of next week,” I responded with a smirk, since I’d done it before. “You want to try me?”
Anwar narrowed his eyes. “Remember who you’re talking to, cousin.”
“That’s the only reason you’re not on the floor.” I wasn’t a big fighter, but Anwar had always been an asshole. Because of my position, I’d been trained in the martial arts, boxing, and wrestling. Friendly competition among the cousins always went wrong for Anwar, no matter how hard he tried. There were six years between us, his thirty to my twenty-four, but I’d been taking him on since I was fifteen. And winning.
Anwar seemed ready to get out of his seat, but his father grunted something under his breath and Anwar settled back down. I wanted to laugh, but that would just piss off my father, so I held it in and smirked instead. I got along with all of my other cousins, but the heir to the throne had a stick up his ass, and I figured someone had skipped over the lube.
“It’s time to move beyond laws of the past,” King Isak was saying in his stately voice. “Our country has sat precariously balanced between the east and the west, Europe and Asia, old and new, for too long. We must, for the sake of our people and our future, move into the modern world.”
“We have some of the best technology and infrastructure in the world,” Anwar protested. “Fiber optics, satellites—”
“Yet we do not have respect, prestigious universities, or even much tourist trade other than a bit in summer,” his father interrupted him. “We remain firmly seated in the past while much of the world moves on without us. We cannot continue to focus on the old ways when it leaves us looking weak.”
“Weak?” Anwar scowled at him. “Our military is strong, our weapons growing, and the scientists say we’re within three years of nuclear—”
“Nuclear!” Uncle Isak pounded his fist on the table, making all of our dishes bounce slightly. “This, above all, will destroy us. Our history, our people, our children’s futures. Have you learned nothing from me, Anwar?”
“How can you not see that the world has gained so much freedom, so much power, it’s imploding on itself!” Anwar shot back, leaning forward.
“And it’s up to small, rich countries like ours to do what’s right and help guide it back to where it should be.”
“You’re a foolish old man!”
“And you’re an insolent embarrassment.” Uncle Isak shook his head. “To think you will someday replace me worries me, my son.”
Anwar threw up his hands. “Because I follow the old ways? Because I believe our ancestors had it right?”
“Our ancestors would have you living in a tent in the desert,” his father snapped. “I don’t see you giving up your Ferrari or your condo in the city.”
“All right, enough.” Dad spoke up quietly, though the authority in his voice was hard to miss. Technically, he was the firstborn son of the previous king and should have succeeded him, but he’d fallen in love with a commoner from Sweden and had abdicated the throne to be with her. Though his brother, the current king, had allowed him to keep the title of prince, he and his heirs no longer had any power in the bloodline. I was sixth in line on paper--merely because of the DNA running through my veins--but barring a horrific tragedy that eliminated all of my male cousins, I would never ascend the throne, and I’d always preferred it that way. Anwar was a terrible human being and no matter how many times I told myself he would grow up, change, it hadn’t happened. At thirty, I didn’t think it would, and it scared me.
“You have no right—” Anwar began.
“He has every right behind these doors,” Uncle Isak said sharply. “Were it not for him, you would be a powerless cousin relegated to ambassador duties.”
It went on for another hour. I got up twice to refill my coffee, once to get some food, and another time to use the bathroom. By eleven thirty they’d made no decisions about Skye other than to remove her from the country, no plans to finalize their schedule of appearances for the next six months, and Anwar was as petulant as a three-year-old who didn’t want to take a nap.
“I’m fucking done,” I muttered to my father as servants served lunch. “What’s wrong with everyone today?”
My father sighed, glancing in his brother’s direction. “There’s a lot going on. The country is at a crucial point in our history, on the verge of civil war.”
“We’ve been saying that for years,” I protested.
“Yes, but it’s coming to fruition, and Isak is struggling with how to deal with it.”
“What of Skye?”
“I’ve got a plan in motion. As soon as it’s safe to move her, I’m having her airlifted to Las Vegas. She can recover with her mother and me there. Once she’s physically able, she can decide where she wants to go, what she wants to do.”
“She’ll just go back to him.”
“I don’t think so. Not this time. At least, I hope not.”
“He’s done this before?” My mouth fell open, but I was so shocked I didn’t care.
“Not this badly, but yes, he’s hit her before. This time, he broke her nose, her collarbone, and two of her fingers. I think her eyes are finally open.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you’d be in prison on a murder charge, which wouldn’t help anyone. Trust me, I’m on top of this.”
I wanted to strangle him, and her, but since I couldn’t, I cut a piece of steak and stuck it in my mouth. Maybe a good meal would improve my mood. Probably not, but there was always a chance.
“So, are you in?”
“In?” I looked at him in confusion. “In what?”
“The rescue mission, of course. Omar’s not going to agree to a divorce without a fight, so he’ll try to stop us from taking her out of the country.”
“Sure.” What the hell else was there to say?