His Royal Quadruplets, page 19
Instead of frowning, though, he clears his throat and pierces my gaze with his. “You are aware, are you not, that with your hair and beard so unkempt, you look nothing like a royal?”
It’s hard not to laugh. My dark hair barely curls against the nape of my neck, and the beard is full, but it’s still contained. There’s no food in it, at any rate.
“I look nothing like a royal?” I throw back. “Well, that is the point.”
It wasn’t the point, originally, but I’m fine with making it that now.
“By royal,” I say, “I assume you mean I don’t look uptight or pretentious enough, and that’s fine. I don’t want any of that, Father. I’m done with that—”
“Done?” He laughs over his shout. “You never started, Maximillian, despite the duty you have to your country.”
I grip the arm of my chair. “What does dressing like a peacock and kissing butts at parties have to do with duty to my country? I donate. I volunteer. I help.”
It’s not an exaggeration. I’ve started two charities, one to help the elderly in my country and one that funds clean-water projects in developing countries. I know what’s happening in the world. I stay abreast of politics, and there’s not the suggestion of a policy change murmured in Stromhaer that I don’t hear about. I care for this country with all my heart.
But I wasn’t made for the show of being a royal, and nothing will ever change that.
My father blinks slowly. “I called you home because I have some news for you.”
My nails dig into the armrest. He hears nothing I say. Ever.
“I have arranged a marriage for you,” he says, “to Princess Ana of Spain.”
There’s dead silence.
And then I’m laughing. Because I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.
He looks down his nose at me. “You find this funny?”
“You didn’t do that.” Still laughing, I shake my head. “We’ve never once talked about me marrying.”
“We do not have to discuss it. I am the king. I do as I see fit.”
I stop mid-laugh, and it hits me in the gut. This isn’t a joke.
My mouth goes dry, and I have to swallow several times before I can speak. “When? Why? How could you?”
“We both know you have no intentions of marrying.”
“That’s not true. How would you know that?”
“You have never once expressed interest in any potential partners, despite the fact that there are several viable options.”
“Princesses, you mean,” I say through clenched teeth.
“They do not have to be princesses. You know that. But from a certain kind of family, yes.”
I start to sigh, and he cuts even that off. As if my words weren’t enough. Now he has to try and steal my exhales.
“This is the most advantageous marriage you could imagine,” he says. “You know that, son. This is Spain.”
“I get that. I’ve been there. It’s a place.” I slice my hand through the air. “I also don’t even know Ana.”
“You’ve seen her at plenty of events. You were formally introduced years ago, at the—”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Standing, I start to pace. “But I don’t know her.”
I stop my frantic pacing to stare at him. “You set up a marriage for me to a stranger. How could you do such a thing?”
“It is nothing new.”
His face is red. He knows he’s in the wrong, but hell will freeze over before he ever admits it.
“You didn’t marry a stranger,” I say. “Either time.”
He looks away, uncomfortable. I don’t usually mention my mother. Her absence, even over a decade after her death, still rings through the palace’s halls.
“So why should I have to?” I ask quietly.
He stands up so roughly that his chair is knocked back. It teeters like it might fall, but he grabs the back of it and slams it down hard on the wooden floor. The noise is gunfire.
“Because,” he hisses, “you have failed to do the little things you needed to, and now you must do this one big thing. Your head is in the clouds, Maximillian. A marriage will bring you back down to earth.”
“How do you know I don’t want to marry someone else?” I ask.
He scoffs and shakes his head.
My family thinks I’m some kind of playboy because I’ve never brought a woman home, but that’s not the case. I date here and there, and I’ve had a couple serious relationships, but in the end they came to a close because the women seemed more interested in what I could do for them as royalty than in me as a person.
I haven’t kept girls from my family; it’s my family that has kept me from girls.
Folding my arms, I work to keep my voice calm. “I won’t do it. I refuse to spend the rest of my life bound to someone I don’t even know.”
He doesn’t skip a beat. “Then you will be passed over in line for the crown. Sacha will take it instead.”
My stomach twists. “I don’t want the crown.”
It’s only partly true. What I said a minute ago about being done with royal life was spoken to anger him and get him to back off for a while.
I already have to deal with the difficult parts of being a royal, such as being recognized everywhere I go and having next to no privacy. At least as king, I’d have more power and be able to create more change in the world.
It was the one big thing I’ve always looked forward to in life, and now he’s threatening to take it away?
Forget this.
“Do as you wish,” I say. “You always do, anyway.”
Spinning on my heel, I throw the door open.
I jog down the stairs, my pulse roaring in my ears. With every step, my father’s threat is there, playing on a loop.
If my mother were here, she would stop this. She would calm him down, make him see the other side of things. She was always good at that.
My throat and eyes burn. I can’t think of her right now. If I do, I might end up leaving the palace bawling, and it would be just my luck that someone would get a picture of my tears and have it trending within a few hours.
Catching a staff member, I send for the backpack I just landed with and start pacing the foyer.
I don’t notice there’s someone in front of me until my shoulder collides with theirs.
Swallowing a curse, I look up and find my younger brother Sacha staring at me with a knitted brow.
“Max?” he asks. “Max, is that you? I can’t see you for all the hair in the way.”
His dramatics make me growl. “Not now, Sacha.”
“Sorry,” he says, chuckling. “I didn’t recognize you with the small animal glued to your face.”
“Did you know Father has plans to marry me off?” I bark.
The grin falls away. “Yes. I did know.”
“And you did not think to warn me?”
His lips purse. “How would I have done that? You have been tramping around Europe. When was the last time you checked your email?”
“I’m not unreachable. Greta got in touch with me.”
He shrugs like that argument is no good, and my hands curl into fists. My only sibling is not the worst, but we have more difficult interactions than we do smooth ones.
Still, I don’t expect what comes next.
“You pushed him to this point,” Sacha says.
“Excuse me? I have only been living my life as I see fit, which everyone has the right to do.”
“No.” He looks at me with what can only be pity. “There you are wrong. We are royals, Max. Born into a bloodline that comes with destinies as good as paved. We do not have the right to live as we see fit.”
I shake my head. What can I say to that? Sacha sounds brainwashed.
With perfect timing, a footman arrives with my backpack. Slipping it on, I give Sacha a two-finger wave.
“Where are you going?” he calls as I give him my back and head for the front door.
“Anywhere,” I say, not bothering to turn around. “Anywhere but here.”
“You smell,” Sacha says, and it’s the last thing I hear before I’m out the door.
Alex was right. I should have installed a shower in the jet.
Also? I should have never come home.
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Rayner, Holly, His Royal Quadruplets
