Whoever said it was good to be King had clearly never had the pleasure.
The Royal family has come under increasing scrutiny the last two years due to the controversial actions of Alexander, who recently succeeded his father to the throne. Alexander’s decision to marry a half-American was the subject of contentious public debate. The crown seemed intent on making an even bigger statement with Alexander’s recent approval of Prince Edward’s marriage to Scottish man David McClane. Vocal minorities and religious organizations throughout the world have attacked the king’s support for the union. The Catholic Church issued a statement condemning the act and it’s been the source of much media speculation in America. Other activist groups, however, applauded the Crown’s progressive stance, stating that Alexander and his family are breathing fresh life into stale Royal traditions. Will public opinion swing in favor of the king’s choices, or is Alexander threatening the stability of the Crown? Only time will tell, but—
The television snapped off and I glanced over my shoulder to find my wife leaning against the bathroom’s doorframe. “It’s too early for bad news, X.”
She had voiced opposition to mounting a television in the bathroom, but given that I was expected to be up on world news and that I had very little time in the day to catch up on what the media was saying, I had overlooked her concerns. I reached behind me and took the remote, flipping the television back on, but changed the channel to a cable sports station. “I was just checking the times.”
“Since when are you into racing?” She was calling my bluff, but what my wife didn’t know was that I had recently become much more interested in racing. When I didn’t answer, she hit me with, “You don’t even like driving.”
“I like driving you.”
“Driving me crazy maybe.”
I continued to shave, which was a dangerous proposition because my eyes kept drifting from my own reflection to hers. The dawn light had begun to filter into the bedroom, haloing her in a soft glow that accentuated her luscious curves and made her look like God’s gift to man. She was certainly God’s gift to me. Her dark hair cascaded over creamy shoulders. Last night I’d pressed my lips to them as I rocked her to two climaxes. In the mirror, her own lips twisted into a knowing smirk as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. As I was usually thinking about finding a way to get her naked—something I had never kept secret from her—the smugness was warranted.
She moved towards the counter, hips swaying slightly. Her smile slipped as she studied herself. In the harsher artificial light of the bathroom, I could see what was making her frown. Faint blue smudges circled her eyes and she looked even more pale than normal.
“Have you considered the houses I found for Edward?” she asked.
I’d looked at my wife’s list yesterday. She’d been obsessing over his wedding present since we’d returned from the holidays and he’d left on his honeymoon. “I’d like him closer.”
“Windsor is close,” she gurgled as she brushed her teeth.
“Windsor Castle is a bit extravagant for everyday use, Poppet.”
She shot me a look. “Have you seen our house? There’s a smaller house in Windsor that sounds perfect and its only half an hour from the city.”
“That place?” I shook my head. “It’s unacceptable. Practically falling down.”
“You need to make a decision soon or they’ll never come home from Seychelles.”
I wouldn’t if I were my brother. I kept this to myself. It would be taken care of, but for now I had more pressing concerns.
“Are you feeling all right? I heard you up earlier this morning.” I tried to keep the concern in my voice to a reasonable level, but it was a struggle.
“I’m fine,” she said, but it did little to reassure me. At the moment, my wife’s moods swung between angelic calm and hysterical rage. I had learned the hard way not to get up and join her when morning sickness hit. I didn’t want to allow her to go through it alone, but since my presence seemed to upset her even more, I’d had to keep a restless vigil from the bedroom.
I found other ways to manage her care, though, waking our daughter and doing my best to help Clara get extra rest. That was the hardest, because it usually meant keeping my hands to myself, even when I wanted to spend a few quiet moments together before the rest of the household intruded on our lives.
“Did you get enough sleep?”
“Sure,” she said noncommittally as she glared at her reflection. “I look terrible and I have the Child Watch Symposium this afternoon.”
She turned the faucet on in the marble sink and bent forward to splash cold water on her face. I took the interruption to quickly wipe remnants of shaving cream from my jaw.
“You know, maybe that’s a sign you should stay home,” I said, stepping behind her. I stopped my arms around her slender torso, one hand resting over the tiny bump that only we knew about, while the other took a slightly less sentimental path up to her breast. My thumb circled its furl through the thin satin of her nightgown. Clara responded with a soft moan.
“Are you trying to distract me?” Although, even as she pretended to be annoyed, she leaned into me, allowing better access. I slid my hand under the flimsy nightgown and continued my gentle assault. “Because you aren’t going to convince me not to go.”
We’d been having this argument for some time. After I’d proposed, Clara had struggled with her decision to leave her career behind. When I’d asked her to marry me she had known that one day I would become the King of England. It was inevitable. Before our wedding, I’d promised her plenty of opportunities to continue working on the social programs she’d overseen for Peters & Clarkwell. None of that had gone according to plan. I’d still convinced her to marry me, but both of us had taken on new responsibilities so quickly we might have suffered whiplash. My father’s assassination had backed me into a corner, forcing me to ascend to the throne years before I had expected. Clara’s discovery that she was pregnant had pushed us both into parenthood, something I’d always thought I didn’t want. For the last year and a half, we had been adjusting. I’d had Clara exactly where I wanted her—by my side, in my bed, and, most importantly, home, where I could keep an eye on her personally. Now, despite being pregnant again, she was determined to finally rise to her public responsibilities as Queen. No amount of charm could dissuade her.
“I can think of much better ways for you to spend your day.” My other hand abandoned its protective vigil and slid to the hollow between her thighs, working its way past the fabric to the wet heat there.
“You have meetings all day,” she breathed. I couldn’t help but detect a note of challenge. The message was clear: if I wanted her to abandon her plans for the day I would have to do the same, something we both knew was impossible.
“My meetings are all going to be here.” I coaxed her legs farther apart with my knee to give me better access to the prize I was ready to claim. I earned a soft shudder accompanied by a moan of approval as my thumb found its target. “I’m here and you’re here. Other people can wait.”
My lips whispered temptations as they trailed along the soft skin behind her ear and down to the freckles I’d been fantasizing about only moments ago. I drank in the sight of her languorous body in my arms, the mirror reflecting exactly what I wanted out of life: to possess her completely until she knew nothing but the safety and security I’d promised her.
Clara opened one eyelid, lazily meeting my greedy gaze. “So in this scenario, I’m here waiting naked in your bed—right, X?”
She didn’t sound as annoyed about this prospect as she usually might. Of course, I was actively lowering her defenses.
“Something like that,” I said silkily.
“No way in hell.” She turned her head, though, allowing her face to come a breath away from my own. “But I don’t mind if you keep trying to convince me.”
“Challenge accepted, Poppet.” And then my mouth closed over hers.
Two discussions later and I’d failed to persuade her to stay home. She said goodbye to me, glowing like a lightbulb, which would no doubt contribute to speculation that she was with child again. If she was going to insist on going out in public, we would have to confirm this pregnancy sooner rather than later. It would be easier if she would just stay here. But her defiance was what had first drawn me to Clara Bishop. I’d never take that away from her. I would never want to. Still, it made things more complicated.
My fingers raked through my hair as I buried my head in my hands, wondering what a simple life looked like. What was it like to be a normal guy whose pregnant wife went off to work? I’d never know. Not for the first time I wished I could trade my birthright in for a less regal model.
“Alexander?” A deep voice interrupted my thoughts. I didn’t have to look up to know it was my old friend and longtime personal guard, Norris, because he was the only person on my payroll who didn’t constantly address me as Sir.
If he was here, that meant my day was about to start. Then again, Norris shouldn’t be here. I frowned, not bothering to hide the reproach written all over my face. “I thought you were going with her.”
“The Prime Minister’s visit today. The household team had to split duty. Brexton is with her.”
My frown deepened. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my old friend and Royal Air Force buddy, it was simply that I trusted Norris more. If I couldn’t be with Clara, I always felt better when he was there. Norris didn’t look like a bodyguard. With his thinning blond hair and average build, he blended in, looking more the part of the fatherly advisor than the trained killer. He was lethal and he wouldn’t hesitate to protect her. “I’d prefer these decisions were run by me first.”
“Her Majesty was quite determined on the point.” His lips pressed into a thin line, recalling an unpleasant memory. “She said I fuss over her too much.”
My eyebrow cocked at this bit of information. Perhaps my attempts to persuade her this morning had backfired. Now, not only had she gone out, she had sent a defiant message as well. Clara knew that I preferred for Norris to be with her, so sending him away in favor of a team led by Brex was her way of telling me to back off. “I’ll discuss this with her later.”
“If you don’t mind me saying so.” Norris finally stepped into the room, his hands behind his back and his expression unreadable. I had no idea what he wanted to say to me, but I suspected I was about to get a lecture. “Clara seems a trifle emotional these days. Perhaps you can trust her to make her own plans. I think she would prefer that.”
“Which one of us is the politician?” I grumbled. Norris had chosen his words carefully, but the meaning was clear. I hadn’t confided the news of her pregnancy to him yet. She had wanted to keep it private and only begin to tell people once it was confirmed by the doctor later this week. Norris had clearly guessed what was going on. “I don’t know why I try to keep secrets from you.”
“Well, Alexander, you have been strutting around here like a prize stud for the last week,” he said dryly. “She’s out to teach you a lesson. I caught her crying twice last week. We’ve been here before.”
I did take an inordinate amount of pride in knowing Clara was carrying my child again. Watching her body transform with the proof of our love and knowing that she had chosen me was a massage for my ego, admittedly.
“Plus,” Norris continued, “there’s the matter of you both acting like damned fools.”
“Excuse me?” His criticism broke me away from thoughts of my wife. It wasn’t that he couldn’t speak to me that way. It was that he rarely did.
“She’s obviously making a point that she won’t be told what to do and where she can go, which makes me suspect that you tried to tell her what to do and where to go this morning.”
I held my hands up in surrender. “I tried to convince her.”
“Are you certain you didn’t try to command her?” Norris had been privy to many of our premarital arguments. He’d witnessed the few moments where I’d almost lost her because of my controlling nature. He was well aware of my tendency toward possessiveness.
“I asked. Nicely.”
He didn’t have to know what I meant by nicely. Clara, however, had obviously seen this morning differently. I reminded myself that my wife was pregnant and therefore prone to mood swings, but despite that, my palm twitched. I had to fight my urge to dominate her outside of the bedroom. If my best efforts were going to be rewarded with passive aggressive actions meant to test me, it would be harder to maintain that boundary.
“It’s none of my business,” he said with the air of somebody who felt it was very much his business. Norris was like a father to me. Because of the terrible relationship I’d had with my real father, I usually appreciated Norris’ insight. Today, with the prospect of a morning meeting with the Prime Minister and briefings all afternoon, I wasn’t in the mood.
“Anything else? Are we prepared for Prime Minister Clark’s arrival?” My tone shifted to cool business.
His eyes narrowed. He understood when he was being dismissed, but unlike most of the people who worked around me, Norris wasn’t prone to sycophancy. Still, he seemed to sense I was on edge.
“Everything is in place and the arrangements for Queen Mary’s quarters at Kensington Palace have been made.”
Suddenly, I was ready to take my daily meetings. Anything was better than dealing with the family. The Prime Minister wanted to discuss the budget and climate change initiatives, topics I usually found mind-numbingly boring, especially since Parliament was likely to enact whatever budget or legislation they saw fit. The reminder that my grandmother and uncle had decided to return to London was another piece of bad news. Issues of national politics felt positively tame compared to the tangle of family politics that would soon capture me.
“They’ve chosen Kensington?” I couldn’t help but be surprised. I’d expected there to be a fight over Clarence House, the first home I’d occupied with Clara after our marriage. It seemed like the choice my grandmother would make, if only to spite me.
“I believe they were told that Clarence House had potential occupants.”
This was news to me. I sat back in my office chair and waited, wondering if it was too early for Scotch.
“It’s not official,” Norris said. “I thought it prudent to reserve the premises given your brother’s new marital status.”
“Good thinking. Clara had pitched Windsmoor.”
“I assume you told her it was—”
“Falling apart,” I finished. “I think she meant to give them more privacy than London might afford them.”
Norris and I hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss Edward’s wedding present, but it was customary for the reigning monarch to gift a residence to close members of the family. I’d been avoiding the conversation, excusing myself from it by reminding anyone who asked, mostly Clara, that Edward and David were still on their honeymoon. Still, I couldn’t avoid it forever. I feared my brother would prefer a country estate. It would make sense. It was the choice I would have made had I not been forced to keep a permanent residence in London. Keeping Clarence House open and offering it to Edward felt right. I wanted my brother nearby. He was the only blood relation I trusted and a friend and advisor.
“Will that be all?” Norris’s eyes twinkled as he spoke. He was testing me, calling me out for trying to be dismissive earlier.
I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms behind my head. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to go to that symposium.”
He levelled an incredulous stare in my direction. “Given Clara’s condition, it would be better not to upset her.”
“I wish you were with her.” This time I wasn’t teasing. I was deadly serious. But he had a point. Clara had made her desires known and undermining her would only cause a fight. While I liked making up with her after an argument, I also wanted to see that she was healthy. None of that meant I had to do nothing.
“Keep an eye on the situation,” I ordered him. “I want to know if there’s someone with so much as a sniffle around her.”
Norris opened his mouth as if to respond but then thought better of it. He shook his head as he turned to look into it, but as he crossed the threshold of my office, I could swear I heard him mutter, “Stubborn arse.”
The Prime Minister reminded me of my father, which was to say he looked like most Englishmen of a certain age: light hair and skin creased with wrinkles from years of apologetic gymnastics, usually wearing tweed. Next to each other, the two of us looked like night and day. Despite spending most of my time in cabinet meetings and offices, I had my mother’s rich olive skin tone. I was suddenly grateful to my mother’s Greek heritage for the influx of fresh genes.
Prime Minister Clark was unfailingly gracious and forgiving of the fact I was obviously distracted. With my thoughts on Clara and her event, he’d had to repeat himself several times, making the meeting drag on. We’d taken armchairs by the fireplace in my private office. He was the only politician I met with in closed quarters. No one, not even Norris, attended these meetings. It was meant to encourage a spirit of cooperation. Not for the first time, I wondered if the meetings were even necessary. He had his business and I had mine. We were both busy running very different aspects of the United Kingdom. As he informed me about the latest news on a climate change initiative, I wondered what he would think if he knew the concerns preoccupying me.
“My family stance on climate change is well documented,” I reminded him.
“Not everyone will be thrilled with the sanctions,” he warned me.
“Do I look overly concerned with my popularity?”
Clark tipped his head, something like a laugh escaping his lips. “The press is crucifying you.”
“When I was young, I couldn’t do anything right. Now that I’m older, I still can’t.”
“Welcome to being a politician.”
“Isn’t that your job?” I only wished it were true. Most of Britain’s politics filtered through Parliament and I was expected to simply support or criticize legislation, have a stance on issues affecting my people, and to be up-to-date on all major discussions before Parliament. The government had throttled some of the Crown’s powers over the last few years and the monarchy had been turning more and more responsibility over to His Majesty’s Government for the last few centuries. That didn’t absolve my obligations to my position.
“I should warn you that there are some minority factions in the House of Lords who are questioning the choice to allow Edward to remain in the line of succession.”
“That’s not really for them to be concerned about.” My fist clenching as I imagined getting my hands on one of the dissenters.
“I suppose the authority rests with you—”
“There is no suppose about it. The authority does rest with me. Not that it should be a question at all. I thought Britain was in the twenty-first century.”
“It’s more about perception. It might strain our relationships with our more conservative allies.”
“Sod them.” I couldn’t help myself. It was my duty to play nice—to act the part of the benevolent king—but I never had much luck hiding my protective streak when it came to my family. That we were still having this argument, even after a year of letting people warm up to the idea of my brother’s wedding, pissed me off.
“I’m not sure that should be the Crown’s official stance,” he said.
“I wasn’t planning on releasing a statement to that effect.” My lip curled at the thought. The press would have a field day with it, and although there was a time when I would’ve enjoyed delivering a ‘screw you’ to anyone who thought they should have a say in my private affairs, I didn’t have that luxury any longer.
“Anonymity and freedom from criticism are two expectations only afforded to private citizens.” His words were gentle. Not for the first time I suspected the Prime Minister felt a paternalistic responsibility to me, probably owing to the death of my father. He might not feel so inclined if he knew how little I respected my father’s advice before his death. I didn’t need lectures about the difficulties of being a member of the Royal family. I’d dealt with the media circus for as long as I could remember. My own marriage had been dissected by the tabloids. More than once, my wife’s life had been put in danger by overeager leeches who believed exactly what the prime minister had just said: there was no privacy afforded to royals. Of course I knew that, it was why I had been the one to accept the crown. It might’ve been easier to reject my birthright and make a life on my own. I would never know. The only thing I remained certain of was that my position afforded me the ability to grant some bit of security to those I loved. It also meant bearing the brunt of criticism for my progressive stances.
“Perhaps you could consider another option.”
“Which is?” I asked.
“Bring someone in. A publicist of sorts,” he suggested. “Someone you can trust to help you maneuver the stickier situations.”
“I’ll keep it under advisement,” I said through gritted teeth. There were actual matters of state to discuss. Instead we were sitting here worrying about public perception. That was the difference—I realized something. There was a difference between a man who climbed to political office and one who was born to lead. I’d never had a choice of life. In a way, that was turning out to be more freeing. No one could challenge my birthright. No one could vote me out. If anyone had qualms over my choices, it wasn’t going to endanger my political career. I would still be King.
No, it would take far more sinister machinations to remove my power. Taking the crown was a much bloodier affair than an election. I had survived my first assassination attempt. My father had not been so lucky. I had no idea how many he’d survived before the one that claimed his life. I suspected that I myself had survived on more occasions than I knew. But those attempts hadn’t come from people or journalists or other countries. None of the forces with which the Prime Minister felt so concerned were at play in any of those events. It had been the poison underbelly of Parliament itself. I reminded myself every week, while the Prime Minister sat across from me with a fatherly smile on his face: politicians couldn’t be trusted. One member of Parliament had already been arrested in connection with my father’s assassination, and despite our best efforts, we still had not discovered how far the plot reached.
Still, perhaps he was right. Maybe I needed someone to handle the public announcements. It would be a load off. If only I could find someone to attend these meetings.
I glanced at the clock, my thoughts slipping away to much more important items on my agenda. I wanted an update on Clara. The longer this meeting continued, the longer I would wait for one.
“There’s one final matter I’d like to discuss. The funding for the Sovereign Games.”
I grimaced. That had not been on my agenda. “That was my father’s pet project.”
As far as I was concerned that was the end of that. I’d spent the better part of the last year removing all vestiges of my father’s reign from this office. I wasn’t about to continue his hobbies.
“It was one of your father’s most popular programs. Furthermore, Parliament has approved its half of the funding. There seems to be a general consensus that Britain is feeling more divided than usual.” He was choosing his words carefully. It wasn’t just the country that felt divided, it was the entire world. Some of my own choices had certainly fractured the unity of the people here, but I didn’t see how that mattered in this instance.
“I wasn’t even aware the games were moving forward.”
“Your grandmother has been quite persistent in—”
“Of course she has.” It was starting to make sense. My grandmother, Queen Mary, had left residence here after the death of her son. We weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Mostly, because she had called my wife a whore. “So, this has become her baby.”
“I suppose in a way. She feels strongly that Albert’s memory should be kept alive.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” I might be the only person content to let my father’s memory remain at rest. In his final moments, he had sacrificed himself for me. But while in the end he had granted me acceptance, he had denied it to me for most of my life. His final choices didn’t erase the nearly thirty years of disapproval and mistrust between us.
A knock broke the mounting tension in the room, but before I could call the person in, Norris stuck his head through the door. “I apologize for the interruption but I need to speak with you immediately.”
“Not a problem.” The Prime Minister stood, smoothing wrinkles from his suit. “I need to check in with my secretary. I’ll see you this afternoon?”
As if I had a choice.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I said in a flat voice.
Norris closed the door behind him and I began to shuffle through the day’s agenda, looking to see what unsavory briefing was next on my plate. “Thanks for the save.”
But he didn’t smile.
“There’s been a development. I must warn you that this is likely nothing,” he began.
My blood ran cold. It dawned on me too late. Norris wasn’t the type to interrupt a meeting with the Prime Minister because I was bored. That was something Brex would do. But Brex was with Clara. If Norris had abandoned his sense of propriety to interrupt a private discussion, something must be terribly wrong.
“This isn’t confirmed,” he continued, his voice remaining suspiciously even, “but we did receive a message.”
He held out his mobile phone and I scanned the screen as the weight of what I read settled onto my chest like a boulder. I couldn’t quite digest it—words like bomb and faction and symposium. It didn’t matter if there was confirmation. It didn’t matter what my wife wanted anymore. It didn’t matter if there was only a shred of possibility that what I was reading could be true. “We need to find Clara.”
“Alexander, I will handle this.”
I was already out of my seat and making my way down the hall. Norris knew better than to try to stop me. Not after I’d received this piece of intel. Not with the threat of an attack on the symposium.
Not before I reached my wife.