Royal Babies. Cat Schield

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      Her words caused him to pause. Sunita had been one of the very few people he’d spoken to about his dreams. Ever since he was young he’d been focused on breaking free of his father’s money—sick and tired of the constant reminders that he relied on his father’s coffers for his food, his clothes, the roof over his head.

      Then, at twenty-one, he’d come into the inheritance of a run-down, abandoned olive grove. And as he’d walked around it had been as if the soil itself had imparted something to him, as if the very air was laden with memories of past glories, of trees laden with plump lush olives, the sound and whir of a ghostly olive press.

      That was where it had all started, and over the years he’d built an immensely profitable business. Two years before he’d been in the midst of a buy-out—he’d succeeded, and taken his company to the next echelon. That had been the deal he’d been celebrating—the reason he’d handed over the state function to Axel, the reason Axel had died.

      Guilt and grief prodded him and he saw Sunita frown. Focus. ‘The deal went through.’

      ‘So who runs your business now?’

      ‘A board of directors and my second-in-command—I have very little to do with it any more.’

      ‘That must be hard.’

      ‘That’s how it is. Lycander needs my attention, and its people need to see that they come first. The principality isn’t huge, but we have beaches, we have vineyards, we have olive groves. I know I’m biased, but our olives are the best in the world—they have bite...their taste lingers on your tongue—and the olive oil we produce is in a class of its own. As for our grapes—I believe the wine we produce rivals that of France and Spain. Lycander has the potential to be a prosperous land, but right now it is a vessel of past glories. My father increased taxes, lowered the minimum wage—did all he could to increase the money in the royal coffers without a care for the effect.’

      ‘But couldn’t anyone stop him?’

      ‘No. In Lycander, the ruler’s word is law—he has the final say on the governing of the land. Of course there are elected advisors, but they have no legislative power and the monarch can disregard their advice. So effectively everything hinges on having a ruler who genuinely cares about Lycander and its people.’

      ‘That sounds like a whole heap of responsibility. For you. And to wish upon Amil.’

      ‘It is, but I think it needs to be seen in context. In the past, when everything worked, it was easier—right now it is harder. But I will make sure I set things to rights. I know what needs to be done. I will make the laws fair, I will reduce taxation rates and I’ll stop tax evasion. I want the divide between the wealthy and the poor to be bridged. I—’

      He broke off at her expression.

      ‘You can pick your jaw up from the ground.’

      She raised her hand in admission. ‘OK. Busted. I am surprised. Two years ago you were passionate about your business, but you didn’t mention politics or social beliefs. Now your enthusiasm, your beliefs, are palpable.’

      The all too familiar push and pull of guilt tugged within him.

      ‘This isn’t about my enthusiasm or my beliefs. It is about Axel—it’s about fulfilling a promise. The people and the country suffered under my father’s rule. The real reason there was no rebellion was that they knew one day Axel would succeed him, and that kept the unrest at bay. Axel had a vision—one that I will make happen.’

      That had been the promise he’d made in his very first speech and he would fulfil it.

      ‘What about your vison? The way you speak of Lycander—I can hear your pride in it.’

      ‘I never had a vision for Lycander. I had a work hard, play hard lifestyle.’

      ‘But you’ve changed?’

      ‘Yes, I have.’

      But the cost of that had been his brother’s life.

      Her frown deepened. She leant forward and he could smell her exotic scent with its overtone of papaya, could see the tiny birthmark on the angle of her cheekbone.

      ‘I know you will be a good ruler. Whether you rule because it is your duty or because your heart is in it.’

      There was silence. She was close. Way too close. And he had had a sudden desire to tell her the truth about his ascent to the throne—a desire mixed with the longing to tug her back into his arms and damn common sense and practicality.

      Neither could happen, so he rose to his feet and looked down at her.

      ‘Thank you. But the point I was trying to make is that I will ensure the principality Amil inherits will be a good place, with a strong economic foundation. Of course he will still have much responsibility, but I hope it will not be a burden.’

      ‘What if he doesn’t want the job? What if he has other ambitions, other aspirations?’

      ‘I would never force him to take the crown. He could abdicate.’ He met her gaze. ‘Provided we have more children.’

      ‘More children?’ she echoed.

      ‘Yes. I would like more children in order to secure the succession.’ After all, there was no hope of his brothers ever having anything to do with Lycander. ‘To take the pressure off Amil.’

      ‘Is that the only reason?’

      ‘For now. I haven’t really got my head around having Amil yet.’

      Right now he was terrified about his ability to parent one child—it wasn’t the moment for a rose-tinted image of a functional, happy group of siblings.

      ‘Do you want more kids?’

      Sunita hesitated. ‘I don’t know...’ A small smile tugged her lips upwards. ‘I haven’t really got my head around it all yet either. Until yesterday it was just me and Amil. My happiest memories are of my mother and me—just us. After—’

      She broke off, looked away and then back at him, and he wondered what she had been about to say.

      ‘Anyway,’ she resumed, ‘I’m not sure that the whole “happy family” scenario always works. Are you close to your other brothers?’

      ‘No.’

      His half-siblings... Stefan, who loathed all things Lycander, had left the principality as soon as he’d reached eighteen and hadn’t returned. The twins, Emerson and Barrett, still only twenty, had left Lycander only days after their father’s death and hadn’t returned.

      There was a definite pattern there, and it wasn’t woven with closeness. The way they had grown up had made that an impossibility—their father had revelled in pitting brother against brother in a constant circus of competition and rivalry, and in the end Frederick had retired from the field, isolated himself and concentrated on his own life.

      ‘But that was down to our upbringing. I hope that our children would do better.’

      Perhaps it was a fruitless СКАЧАТЬ