Page 76 of A Royal Disaster
“I’m a member of the Privy Council,” Liam said, meeting his father’s steely gaze. “Is this not a Privy Council meeting?”
“If your attendance was required, you would have been invited.”
His father’s face was neutral, but Liam could sense his growing irritation. Liam flashed him a triumphant smile. If it weren’t for his own well-placed contacts throughout the palace, he wouldn’t have even known his father was meeting with select members of the council to discuss the future of the monarchy.
A future he would play a key role in shaping.
“I’m here to discuss the future of Valeria,” he said smoothly, turning to the council members. “Is that not the purpose of this meeting?”
None of them would meet his eyes.
“Perhaps we should discuss this matter in private?” Liam suggested, turning back to his father. He could see the wheels turning in his father’s head as he calculated his next move. He clearly did not want to concede another point to his son. Fortunately, Liam wasn’t above pressing the advantage. “I have news.”
“Very well.” His father gave a curt nod. “It’s nearly time for lunch anyway. The council will reconvene in one hour.”
Let the games begin.
Liam moved to the bar and poured himself a whisky as the council members collected their things and silently departed, their footsteps muted by the plush carpet. The last advisor out pulled the door shut but, before it latched, it was thrown open again and his mother stormed in, looking as put out as he’d ever seen her.
Oh, her perfectly coiffed hair was as lovely as ever and her suit was neatly pressed, but there were tension lines around her mouth that would give her nightmares if she had the misfortune of passing before a mirror.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, holding up a crisp parchment notecard.
“Mother,” Liam said, taking a sip of his whisky. “So glad you could join us.”
She waved the card Fin had delivered to her personal secretary. “It’s not like I had much choice in the matter.”
Indeed.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” his father asked, no longer bothering to hide his annoyance. Why would he? The audience was gone and he wouldn’t go to the trouble of pretending for Liam or the queen. “I do not have time for childish tantrums. Parliament is breathing down my neck, and if we don’t come up with a solution soon, we’ll be sharing power by year’s end.”
Liam took a seat on one of the ornate Louis XV chairs and crossed his legs. “Perhaps it’s for the best,” he said, taking a pull on his whisky. “I think we can all agree sovereign rule is an outdated form of government.”
The queen gasped and the king’s face flushed a violent shade of red.
“Come now,” Liam said, forging ahead. Stunned speechless was a good look for his parents. He should’ve tried it ages ago. “You don’t really believe you’ve been chosen by the almighty himself, do you?”
“How dare you!” His father leaped to his feet and braced his palms on the desk. His chest was heaving and Liam suspected it was the closest the old man had come to a workout in a decade. “I am the king and I will not tolerate such insolence.”
Liam arched a brow but said nothing. What could they do? Hang him for treason?
“Darling,” his mother said, moving to the chair opposite his and lowering herself gracefully to the ivory cushion. “Surely you don’t mean that. You’ve always wanted to be king, from the time you were a little boy.”
“That was before you tried to force me into a political marriage.”
“Is this about the American?” His father snorted and returned to his chair, the color fading from his face. “You want to be king, you have to make sacrifices.”
“I think what your father’s trying to say,” his mother said, glaring daggers at her husband, “is that while ruling isn’t easy and the crown will require certain sacrifices, we’re very happy. And in time, you will be too.”
“Bollocks,” Liam scoffed. It was no secret that both his parents had had their share of affairs over the years. It had been easy enough for him to ignore the whispers, but for Xander, it had been a different story.
“Being king means putting your duty to your country before your own desires.” His mother reached for his hands, clasping them in her own. “We would love to give you the privilege of marrying for love, but it’s not an option. We’re doing everything in our power to protect your crown, and you will have to make sacrifices as well.”
“I’ve made plenty of bloody sacrifices,” Liam said, pulling his hands from her grasp. “My childhood. Attending an American university. The Art History degree I wasn’t allowed to pursue.”
“You had a wonderful childhood—”
“This isn’t about my childhood or what I’ve sacrificed in the past,” Liam said, cutting her off. “It’s about what I refuse to sacrifice moving forward. If I’m fit to be king, I’m fit to choose my own bride.”
