Page 6 of X: Command Me through Alexander’s Eyes

“No one knows,” he says quietly. He sinks into his chair like he’s deflating.

“I assume David does.”

“He’s aware,” Edward says dryly.

“And he’s also in the closet?”

Edward’s eyes flash, and I realize I’ve misstepped. “Sorry. Is that not PC?”

“I guess it is. I just never really think about it,” he admits, “and I suppose he is, and he isn’t.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I think he’d be fine with being open about it if...”

“If you were.” There it is—the double-edged sword of loving a Royal. I’d seen glimpses of it as a child before my mother died. The woman I knew and loved transformed into someone else when the camera came out. She fell silent. She took his arm. She became a different woman—his wife. His queen.

But never his equal.

It isn’t done. Edward knows it. I know it.

Why the fuck would he drag someone into this life—even secretly?

“Do you love him?” I ask, wondering how far he’s let it go.

“Yes,” he murmurs.

“Shit.”

“I guess I have your blessing.” His tone remains flat, colored by hopelessness.

“Love complicates things.” Especially for us.

“I think being gay is complicated enough,” Edward says. “Why not add love into the mix?”

“Does he know? Father?”

Edward laughs. It’s completely joyless. It rings through him as hollow as a bell. “Of course. Why do you think I’m under his roof? Wonder where he’ll send me to fix me.”

“Don’t be afraid of him.”

“I’m not. I just…not all of us got to leave.”

I clench my jaw holding back an angry retort. He doesn’t know why I was sent away. He’s no idea how real that danger truly is, and if I tell him, he’ll never have the courage to be true to himself. Instead, I stick to the facts. “War isn’t a vacation.”

“I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing to say.” He hangs his head a little, but I wave it off.

“I don’t think either of us had a grand time for the last seven years. Although, you did graduate university, which makes you far grander than me,” I remind him.

“Come off it. You’re a war hero,” he says. “The party tonight is for both of us.”

It isn’t, but I don’t correct him. I’m being trotted out like a prize stallion for his graduation party, not as a guest of honor. My father’s only intention is to put me out to stud as soon as I’ve made a suitable match—a girl he will pick out for me, no doubt—and only after the wedding. Propriety must be considered. Then he’ll outlive me and hand the throne to my child. He’s stubborn enough to do it and witless enough to not realize that I don’t want the crown. I won’t marry. I won’t further the bloodline.

“You’ve had your own education,” Edward says kindly, mistaking my silence for something else.

“Yes, I suppose my degree is in blood and suffering. I learned how the world works on a battlefield. Fear drives us. It makes men seek power. It makes men do terrible things. It controls all of us.”

“They didn’t teach us that at St. Andrews.”