Page 57 of The Heir Apparent
“Are you going to Patagonia?” I asked, but she didn’t turn to face me, continuing to shuffle things around on her desk. “Amira?”
Louis and Kris were supposed to fly south to walk Patagonia in a month. It was all they talked about. Lakes so pure they reflected the snow-capped mountains like a mirror. No one would know them there. They could be themselves within its unfathomable beauty.
“Amira,” I said again.
“Just tell her, you two,” Kris moaned.
Amira turned and looked at Louis. They had grown close that year, with Kris at Sandhurst and me present in body but utterly gone in every other way. I was aware that my brother had lost his mother as well, and that I was not being a good sister to him.
I looked at Louis. “What are you doing?”
He hesitated, keeping his eyes on Amira, as he decided what to say. “Amira’s going to come for a bit when we go to Patagonia.”
“And why would Amira do that when she hates exercise and the outdoors?” I asked, turning to look at her.
Her head fell forward so her face was obscured by a curtain of hair. “I’m just doing them a favour, Lexi. I go, they get a picture of me and Louis together, everyone thinks we’re an item. It’s just misdirection.”
“And how long do you plan to do this for?” I asked Louis, ignoring her. “Are you going to pretend Amira’s your girlfriend forever?”
“What do you want me to do, Lexi? Come out to the world?” He sat up but refused to look at me. “You know I can’t do that.”
The question of coming out was one we’d discussed often after that first conversation at the Scottish estate. Louis, who’d had far longer to ponder the issue, was set in his belief that it was impossible. But I was desperate for there to be a way. I had even surreptitiously pulled a few books on UK constitutional history from the Astley library, hoping to glean some wisdom from their pages. We had learned as children that our kingdom had no written constitution. If that were true, then how hard could it be to declare that the boy who would one day be king had no need for a queen? But no matter how many shiny crowns we wore and how many balconies we waved from, ours was an institution built on ruthless conservatism. If Louis came out as gay, it would trigger a crisis in the church and the state. I had no doubt it was a fight worth having, a fight we could win with a groundswell of public support. But it was Louis’s choice, and he didn’t want to be the one to do it.
“There’s a thousand girls in London right now who’d grind up on you in a club,” I said. “Why do you need to use Amira? You know what’s going to happen, don’t you? Have you read a tabloid recently? Have you thought about how all this looks for Amira if you get found out?”
“Hey,” Amira said sharply, “I can look after myself.”
Amira now appeared on theDaily Postwebsite every other day, whether she was walking into Maddox Club with Louis or shopping on Old Bond Street with Vikki. She was quickly becoming one of the most famous girls in Britain, described by the tabloids as “exotic” and “ethnically mixed.” A right-wing MP caused a mild furore after he claimed Amira could not be trusted because she wasn’t “British.” A breakfast television host wondered aloud if we should expect her to wear henna on her hands if the relationship with Louis went all the way to Westminster Abbey. His co-host responded that at least their children would “keep a nice tan all year round.” With their relationship neitherconfirmed nor denied by the palace, the royal household remained silent on all the hateful things being said about the woman shielding the heir.
“Lexi,” Louis said, “you said you’d support me no matter what.”
“I didn’t mean something likethis.” I looked at Kris, who was still lying in the chaos of Amira’s bed. “Are you really okay with this? Were you part of this? Or was he talking your little sister into this when we weren’t looking?”
“Hey,” Louis said. “That’s enough.”
Kris considered me coolly, his phone now placed against his chest. His feelings on our predicament had always been a mystery to me.
“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it, Lexi. You have no idea what it’s like for any of us. No matter whatyoudo, you can just go running to Daddy and he’ll clean up all your messes, won’t he?”
An unbearable stillness filled the room. Hurt beyond words, I looked to Louis, but my brother still would not meet my eyes. We had made a pact of secrecy, and I thought that meant something. More than our twin connection or our tragic mother, I believed it was our secrets that bound us. I dared not look at Amira, because if he had told her my secret as well, I wouldn’t be able to bear it. It had once been the four of us. But now he needed them more than he needed me.
Blindly, I rose, grabbing my backpack as I left. No one called after me. When the lift opened on the ground floor, I found Vikki walking through the front door, huge sunglasses on her face and a row of orange Hermès shopping bags on her arm.
“Oh, darling, are you off?” she asked. “I thought you and Louis were staying for dinner.”
“I have to go,” I muttered.
She put her bags down on the floor and gently took me by the wrists. In the year since Mum’s death, I had veered between craving and avoiding Vikki’s touch.
“Do you know what’s going on up there?” I asked, suddenly furious. “Do you know what they’re planning?”
“Lexi, what do you mean?”
I hesitated, still bound by my vow to Louis, even if he was not. Finally I spoke. “Amira’s going to fly to Chile to be with Louis in the summer.”
“Yes,” she said, unsurprised.
A maid was lurking on the steps behind us, wondering whether to come collect the shopping bags or make herself scarce. Vikki shooed her away.
