same of everything. Over the years our friendship changed to a sort of cheerful rivalry. A gentleman’s competition. May the best man win and all that.”
With every word, the pieces fell more into place. “Yet he could never measure up, because he could never be king.”
He nodded. “Unfortunately, I was too naïve to see it. All I knew was that he was my friend. We talked about ruling Aldayne together. We were eight,” he added with a wry grin.
I touched my tummy, thinking of Jack growing up in this world.
“Then Old Father died, and it looked ever more certain that my father would become king. My mother couldn’t bear it a second longer. She had always hated the fishbowl aspect of royalty. The lofty expectations of perfection. And the way it ate at your soul like a cancer if you ever fell short. She decided to return to America. She took me with her.” He heaved another sigh. “Looking back, I think she saw what was happening with the Byrnes and she just wanted to get me away from all of it. She didn’t trust them, and it was clear that she didn’t want me to, either.”
His eyes grew sad.
“The funny thing was that even after Mother got sick Cillian wrote to me. He was my friend, just like Audra was my friend. They kept me going even when…,” he struggled to find the words. “After my mother died and I had to return to Aldayne at sixteen, they were the first people I wanted to see, next to my father. And even then,” he corrected. “Father was drinking. Heartbroken. Bitter. He wasn’t the same man. But good ol’ Cillian was the same. And Audra, the smartest person I knew, was in love with him,” he added. “So how bad could he be?”
I felt dread knot my stomach. Audra had left this part out, which led me to believe it was really, bad.
“Cillian was there whenever my father went into his drunken rages. He was there when my father would nurse his broken heart in fits of depression where I wouldn’t see him for days. Cillian was always at my side, making me laugh, helping me forget.”
He sighed. “He encouraged me to create. He did everything he could to make that dark part of my life better. He was my friend,” he said again, his broken heart making him choke on the words. “He was the first one there when the news broke about my father nearly a month shy of my eighteenth birthday.” His voice cracked. “He was there. He was always there.”
He rose from the table and began to pace. He spoke faster, as if he was trying to get it all out, ripping it off like a bandage. I knew in that moment he had never told anyone this story before. “When I turned to music, he encouraged it. He would book my gigs. He bragged to everyone he was my first manager. He even stood up to Old Mother whenever she had something to say about it. ‘Forget about ruling Aldayne,’ he’d say. ‘Let’s rule the world.’”
“He even introduced me to my first love. Eloise,” he said, almost dreamily. “She was the perfect girl for a future king. Beautiful. Poised. Cultured. Educated. The perfect diamond. Not one visible flaw. Best of all, she was sweet, loving. And ready to love me. She told me I didn’t have to be alone anymore. She was my first,” he admitted. “I was this grief-stricken, seventeen-year-old orphan. I had lost everyone. There she was, like an angel. Like the answer to a dream. We first made love the night of my father’s funeral.”
He stopped at the French doors, staring outside. He stopped speaking for such a long time I rose from my chair to go stand behind him. I wrapped my arms around him. I sensed he could use a hug. He patted my hand with one of his.
“For my 18th birthday, Cillian got me a private audience with Jasper Carrington.”
My eyes widened. “That big shot music producer?”
He nodded. “The very same.” He looked down at me. “I told you they were powerful.” He turned his gaze out over the lake. “Old Mother was dead-set against it, so I made her a deal. The first of many,” he added with a bemused smirk. “If she gave me New York, I would return and enlist in the Royal Army for my military training, no matter how the concert turned out.”
“You lied,”