kidding? “Apparently everyone. I was upset and running it off on the stairs because I just broke out of a secret meeting of the Privy Council where they asked me to kick my father off the throne.” Christian tapped his chest. “They want me to be king.”
Mallory’s hands flew to cover her mouth. Her eyelids, covered in a shimmery brown powder, widened to near comical proportions. “Wow.”
“Exactly.”
She curled her legs under her to lean closer. “Can you do that? Is it even possible?”
“Yes. Not the old-fashioned way with beheading, of course.” Sadly, Christian knew every possible way to do it. A few weeks ago, Sir Kai had sent him a report on the specifics in an email neither of them had mentioned since. “It’d be tricky, though. The first option would be to talk to him.”
Mallory grimaced. “Which is awkward on so many levels. Firstly, because he’s not talking to you.”
Right. Mallory got it. Why couldn’t the Privy Council see how difficult it’d be? “As you say. That’d be a big hurdle right there.”
She picked up his hand and stretched out two fingers, tapping the tips with her own. “Secondly, because you don’t want to come off as a power-hungry despot.”
Her touch, as they talked through this, made all the difference. It slowed the swirl of emotion and allowed Christian to focus on each small point, rather than the overreaching enormity of everything entailed by the Privy Council’s request.
“Correct. The last thing in the world I want to do is snatch the crown from my still-living father’s head. What if he takes it that way, though? What if he thinks I’m tired of waiting, like the Prince of Wales? It’s not true, but hell, what if?”
“Ugh.” After a big eye roll, she continued. “That old guy should definitely not be your role model. He cheated on his wife. I know it’s a massive sidebar, but come on. Have some integrity.”
God, she was adorable. An unexpected laugh rumbled up his throat. “Agreed.”
“Let’s scratch that one off the list. You and your dad are close, right? He knows you’re not like that.”
“We were close. Until he ghosted me.”
Was he pouting? Hell, yeah. Because it was hard.
Because it hurt to suddenly be cut out of his father’s life, even if everyone else was, too. Christian leaned his head back against the uneven stone and closed his eyes.
“And third, because he’s your dad, you don’t want to insult him or hurt him by saying he’s not capable.”
“That’s the worst, most awkward of all the levels.” Christian lolled his head sideways to look at Mallory. She had her lower lip between her teeth, the picture of concentration. On his problem. How’d he get so lucky to have her in his corner?
Arm raised, she mimed erasing a chalkboard. “Put all of that to the side.”
“Easier said than done.”
“This is just an exercise. I’m not actually asking you to turn off your feelings. Although, as a member of the male gender, don’t you have that on/off button installed somewhere?”
One corner of his mouth tilted. “That’s cold.”
“Yes, but I got a smirk out of you, so that’s good. Now, here’s the ten-thousand-dollar question—is your dad still truly capable of ruling?”
Christian drove his fingers through his hair, then pressed the heels of his palms to his temples. “I don’t know, Mallory. That’s not me trying to cover for him. It’s the honest truth. I can say he clearly hasn’t been capable of it for a few months now. Can he pull himself out of it? And even if he does, will our people still trust him?” Christian heaved a sigh. It was pointless to keep denying it. “Probably not.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. A helicopter buzzed by. Christian looked over the other edge this time. First to the sea, then across to the mountains.
His country.
His realm.
His people. All waiting, whether they realized it or not, on him to make the hardest decision of his life.
Finally, Mallory reached up to take his hand. Her tone was kind, but firm. Definite. “Which means, in the best interest of Moncriano, you should get him to abdicate.”
“Yes.” Damn it, she’d made him say it out loud. For the first time. There was no taking that back. Through gritted teeth, he said, “I do not want this.”
“Welcome to the club.” She waved at the area of her gunshot scars. “This isn’t the life I planned.”
Guilt over that gnawed at him, as usual. It was, however, a topic for a different day.