Page 2 of The Wanted Prince

Dom rolled his eyes. “Civil war, pff. The last one we had, we crushed the Cardonas. How would they fight us without any army?”

“Ever heard of a coup? They could still make a move. You know they still see the throne as their right. To them, we’re usurpers. Never forget.”

“And one waltz with Laura would set off a coup?” Dom rolled his eyes.

“We tolerate the Cardonas to keep the peace, but — no offense to Laura — they’re a conniving bunch. Getting too close to them is asking for trouble, to say nothing of the scandal. Prince defies father on eve of succession. Do you want that drama? I know I don’t.”

“I’m not—” I started, but Dom cut me off.

“So you think it’s true he’s naming his heir?”

A sudden pang hit me, a dart through my chest. Until just three years ago, it’d felt like Father would live forever. He still played squash and tennis, still sailed his yacht. On a good day, he could’ve passed for fifty. Then he’d had his heart attack, and that had all changed. The years had caught up with him seemingly overnight, his salt-and-pepper hair turning all white. He’d given up sporting and sold off his yacht. Frown lines had etched themselves into his face. Him naming his heir felt like… defeat. Like letting time win, and his own failing health.

“It’ll be me,” said Carlo. “War hero, and all.”

Dom snorted. “What war? You weren’t in any war.”

“We were peacekeepers, me and my squad! Where do you think they sent us, if not to war zones?”

“Peace zones,” said Dom. “If you did your job.”

Carlo ground his teeth but didn’t rise to the bait. Dom rattled on, oblivious.

“Besides, we all know it’s going to be me. You know how to fight, but I know the law. You can’t rule a country if you don’t know its laws.”

Carlo ignored him and turned to me. “What about you? Nothing to say?”

I grinned at them both. “Doesn’t matter which one of us sits on the throne. He who controls the purse strings controls the empire.” I thumped my chest. “Treasury Department, here. Who’s your daddy?”

Dom made a blech sound. Carlo groaned.

“Our daddy?”

“Pretend I didn’t say that. You know what I meant.”

“Still…” Dom looked out over the bustling drive. “Father’s wearing the royal amulet tonight for his speech. Think he might hang it on one of us at the end?”

“No way,” said Carlo. “It’s a full three-day ceremony, the rite of succession. And he’d tell us ahead of time, not just spring it on us. You’re still in law school, and we have our work. We’d need to arrange for the break in our duties.”

“See, just one more reason it’s going to be me.” Dom puffed up his chest. “I might be the youngest, but that’s a point in my favor. I’m not in the midst of some big, weighty lawsuit. I can skip a few classes, and I’ll be just fine. It’ll be simplest for me to make the transition.”

I stepped onto the balcony, into the night. The air was still balmy, even this late, just a hint of a breeze blowing in from the sea. I turned my face to that thin wisp of coolness. Did I want to be king of Santaviedo? It had made Father happy, serving the people of our small but populous Mediterranean enclave, but it had also worn him out all too soon. When I looked at him now, I saw a tired old man. Though, I wasn’t sure if the job had done it, or Mother’s passing. Something had gone out of him the night she died — a stroke in her sleep, no warning, no sound. He’d woken to find her cold at his side, and I couldn’t imagine how that must’ve felt. I still sometimes saw him turn, half-smiling, to the empty place next to him where she should’ve been. Then he’d remember, and his light would go out.

Carlo stepped out behind me. “Hey. You all right?”

I made a noncommittal gesture, sort of a shrug. “Have you ever pictured how it would be, being king?”

“You mean the day-to-day? All the royal duties?”

“That, yeah, but I meant more… the weight on your shoulders. Knowing you’re responsible for all these lives. Remember Father used to drive us through the poorest streets, and he’d remind us those are our people too? That it’s on our heads, how they have to live? It’s a lot to take on, to make all their lives better.”

“I remember that,” said Carlo. “I don’t know if Dom does. He might be too young.”

“To remember, or to rule?”

Carlo sighed. “Either. Both. Did you hear what he said? Peace zones, the idea. What kind of fool?—”

I set my hand on his arm. “You know he didn’t mean that.”

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