business is running the monarchy. We live in an archaic world, one that is structured by a lot of outdated rules and protocols. We have wealth and palaces, and I’ve travelled around the globe, so I don’t say this to sound like an ungrateful man, because I know how privileged I am. How lucky I am that I have never had to worry about money, not for a second, and that I have been blessed to meet amazing people and see incredible things, all due to the sheer luck of my birthright. I’m thankful for the opportunities I have had, and I’ve had an embarrassment of them.”
“I know you don’t take any of that for granted,” I say, reaching up and soothingly stroking his hair. “But that doesn’t mean you have to pretend it’s all perfect. At least not for me.”
Xander exhales, as if my words have given him the courage to continue.
“The monarchy can stir deep emotions, whether you love it or hate it. It means something to many people. It wouldn’t exist if it didn’t. We support hundreds upon hundreds of charities and causes. We bring attention where it’s needed and shine lights where it’s dark. We bring tourism to the UK—550 million pounds worth last year. That number will be higher this year because we have a royal wedding.
“But when people see us,” he says slowly, continuing, “they only see the polished family. Because that is what they want to see. They want the show. The illusion. That’s how it’s so bloody archaic and almost comical. We are the princes and princesses, and we are playing out the fairy tale, truth be damned. My parents were young when they ascended to the throne—my dad was only thirty-six when my grandfather died. It was the four of us at that time. This was before James was born, and overnight, here is this beautiful, young family moving into Buckingham Palace. My parents becoming king and queen changed everything. More duties. More travel. More time away from us. It was hard because we had this big, public funeral, walking behind his casket, with the world watching me and Christian say goodbye to our grandfather. I remember all the people lining the streets, all the cameras and photographers, and all the flashes.”
I bite down on my lip. I can’t even imagine dealing with this as an adult, let alone as a child, during a funeral.
“I was six, and it was so scary to me. Mother told me I couldn’t cry, because princes don’t show emotion in public, and we have to be strong for the people. And that’s when I knew my life was never going to be normal. I couldn’t even grieve like a normal person.”
My heart breaks inside my chest. I reach for his hand, taking it in mine, and squeeze it tightly. “That had to be so scary for you,” I say gently.
He pauses and takes another sip of Scotch. “That was my first introduction to what it really meant to be royal. I mean, I knew I was going to be king, but I was a little boy. I didn’t know what that meant. Until that day. Then I understood that we were different. That I was different. And everything shifted after that. Everything I knew was taken away, and a new reality set in.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“We lived in Clarence House until my grandfather passed,” Xander explains. “Then, my father became king. We moved to Buckingham Palace, with its massive rooms that looked so old. I hated the red and gold. I thought it was creepy. I still do, truth be told. The first thing I’m going to do when I become king is change the bloody colour scheme.”
I gasp. “Xander! You can’t be serious! People won’t want that kind of change.”
He gives me a sly look. “And you aren’t even a true monarchy lover. Think what royalists would do if I put in hardwood floors, metal light fixtures, and grey furniture.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You know you can’t do that.”
He sighs heavily. “I know. But it’s a wicked fantasy I have.”
I quirk a brow at him. “Who would have thought your fantasies involve destroying the red carpet at Buckingham Palace?”
Xander quickly puts his index finger over my lips. “Shh! Nobody can know how naughty my fantasies truly are.”
I laugh. He smiles, and I’m so happy to see it return to his handsome face. I almost wish we could stop speaking about what