Page 61 of The Last Strike

Abi closed her eyes, happy and content in his arms.

Asher

Asher read the documents for the third time, checking yet again that everything was correct. When he deemed it to be, he picked up his pen to sign them, but stilled. He had a call to make first. The outcome of the call wouldn’t change whether or not he would sign the documents, but it was the correct thing to do.

“Hey, Ash,” Alistair answered almost immediately.

“Hey, how are you?” Asher asked, smiling when he heard the sound of Alistair’s son laughing in the background.

“I’m good,” he said, sounding like he was smiling himself. “The doctor just left. I got the all clear to start some very light exercise and rehabilitation. She’ll review me again in a few weeks.”

“Good,” Asher said. “I’m glad to hear that. How is Ben?”

“He’s good, really great. He had a checkup yesterday and the doctors are happy with his progress. He’s put on weight and is back in the average percentiles now,” he said.

Asher smiled. He was a miracle child in many ways.

“But how are you doing? How are you holding up?” Alistair asked. Asher knew everyone doubted Alistair—he himself had some doubts—but those two questions alone demonstrated how much he’d changed. A year ago Alistair had been so lost in his own darkness, in his pain and self-sabotaging actions, he would never have thought to ask someone else how they were and then listen for their response.

“I’m good,” Asher said. “I wanted to talk to you about something. I’m not sure what you’ll think of it—”

“Spit it out, Ash,” Alistair said casually, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“I want your blessing in changing the succession,” Asher said. “I’m going to document that in the event of my death, the queen consort will reign.”

Asher held his breath as he waited for Alistair’s response. He didn’t want to offend his brother, but he didn’t want to burden him either. He wanted Alistair to be happy.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Alistair said genuinely.

Asher exhaled in relief. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, Alistair,” he said, which bordered on a lie. “You seem so happy now, so content. I don’t want to burden you with this role—”

“Ash, changing the succession to Abi would be a blessing to me. I hate even saying this, but it’s true: I’m relieved. I know I should want to step up to the responsibility, but I don’t want it. I finally have some control back in my life, and I want to live a simple life with my son. I don’t want the throne. Father made the right decision to name you crown prince, and you will make the right decision to name Abi as next-in-line. God knows that if anyone can handle it, it is her,” he said with respect.

Asher grinned. “Thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. I don’t envy you, Asher, but I’m proud of you. You are exactly what Santina needed, and I’m not. And I’m completely okay with that now that my nose is not full of cocaine and I can think straight.”

“If someone had told me a few years ago we’d speak daily and we’d have this conversation, I would’ve told them their nose was full of cocaine,” Asher said, and Alistair laughed heartily.

“We’ve come a long way. Change the succession, Ash, I have no issues with it at all. I fully support it,” he said.

“Thanks again, I have to go but I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Asher said before ending the call.

He placed his phone on his desk and picked up his pen, scribbling his signature across the documents. He sat back, looking at them.

It was done.

If he died, his queen consort would reign.

Now he just needed to get married.

He was thinking that through when James and Reed entered his office. James looked at the documents and nodded approvingly.

“Can we have a few minutes?” James asked.

“Sure,” Asher said as James and Reed sat opposite his desk. “What’s up?”

“We want to run through the plan for the presidential meeting room,” James said.

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