Page 31 of Heavy Crown

“A bit out of sorts,” I admit. “I’ll be all right. I’m always all right eventually.” I cross my arms and stare at the unlit fire. “I’m dreading this whole marriage business.”

Nick draws his ankle to rest over his knee, and he taps out an annoying rhythm on his leg. While I appreciate him coming, there’s an edge between us. Until everything blew up with Julia, I didn’t see the conflict running underneath the surface. Since he returned from Tanzania, I’ve started to understand our relationship for what it is. He thinks I’m an arrogant asshole, and he’s been a careless, carefree man-child in my eyes. Perhaps it’s time we both discovered whether we’re right about each other.

“What’s she like?” Nick asks. “The woman you rescued. Aurora, isn’t it?”

“Rory.” Her name slips out with an unexpected gentleness. “Probably what you’d expect of someone raised far from the royal shadow.” It’s not really an answer, but listing all the unexpected qualities I enjoy about Rory says more about me than her. My armor around him is still too firmly in place for me to be completely honest.

Nick’s eyes widen. “You do like her.”

I chuckle. “There’s nothing not to like. I won’t be seeing her again. Every single conversation I’ve had since I left her apartment today has clarified why I’m an idiot. Not to worry.”

“She’s young, isn’t she?” Nick cocks his head to the side.

“Twenty-three.”

He tilts his head from side to side. “That’s young, but it’s not terribly young.”

I laugh. “Okay, but she’s Canadian. She’s got one year left on her work visa, and then she’s gone.”

“You probably won’t get married until close to the coronation, right? That’s about a year from now.”

I narrow my eyes. Is he encouraging me to make a bad decision here? Fourteen years ago I went after what I wanted, even though I understood there might be consequences. They stretched far and wide and almost severed my relationship with Nick. While I might be prepared to put myself in a no-win situation for a bit of fun, throwing Rory into that fire with me is immature. Would either of us emerge unscathed?

“Your bad advice is subtle,” I say.

Nick’s eyes dance with amusement. “Not going to deny it’s terrible advice—subtle or otherwise—but you really haven’t contemplated it?”

“A passing consideration.” Though my version had her as a mistress for years. The Camilla to my un-named Diana. To even be thinking this way after knowing her for twenty-four hours is the scariest part. I’m not the marrying kind or the mistress kind. I go after what I want, and I abandon the impulse when it no longer suits me or my duties.

Clean. Unemotional.

“Not really you, though, is it? A reckless affair,” Nick muses. “Figured I’d get the idea out there before Brice could.”

His comment causes a genuine laugh to rise in me. He’s not wrong about our brother. Peacemaker, comedian, truth teller, but he’s also the one who often comes up with outlandish solutions to complicated problems. Without a doubt, he’d suggest Rory could be my mistress.

“Next week I’m in Europe, and if none of the women there seems like a good fit, I didn’t mind my conversation with Kara, Anna Samuels’s sister.”

“Anna Samuels’s sister?” Nick frowns. “That wouldn’t be weird?”

“The family is intent on climbing the royal tree any way they can.” I sigh. Transparency is a gift and a curse. “Neither of us would enter the marriage with any illusions, and she’s old enough to understand the risks and the benefits of royal life.”

“Very clinical.” Nick runs a hand through his hair. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“I’m on the clock, Nicky. Someone I can tolerate and who is good for the country. I can’t afford a higher bar with Dad’s sickness and the impending coronation.”

“But you can’t get divorced if you’re wrong.”

“Hence the reason why it’s probably better to be clinical. From what I’ve seen, love is volatile, sometimes fleeting. Companionship is a solid foundation. Less likely to shift unexpectedly.” Given his fraught and complicated history with Julia, he can’t deny the truth.

Nick searches my expression. “We really are very different.”

“I realize that,” I say. He’s proven capable of turning himself inside out for love. Tying himself up into knots. Wrecking anything in his path when he feels betrayed or let down.

Not me. Despite my temper, I seek logic and reason. My anger often arises because unreasonable solutions are posed to logical situations.

“If at any point you change your mind about the clinical approach to your arranged marriage, I’m happy to discuss the emotional bit.” Nick stands and thrusts his hands into his pockets. “I understand what it’s like to be adrift in a sea of feelings.”

I smirk. “I didn’t get that strand of DNA.”