Page 6 of Fallen Crown

“I’ll be trained,” I say. “Maren Tucker is training us, and she’s been doing these races since she was a kid.”

“Maren Tucker.” The name rolls around Rory’s mouth. “Isn’t she the Tucker who doesn’t like you?”

“Correct.” I bark out a laugh. “Being on the team serves a third purpose. She doesn’t want me there.”

Rory readjusts herself under the blanket and brings Grace to rest against her shoulder before she starts patting her on the back with rapid taps. “I’m no expert on parent-child relationships.” She tips her head at where Grace is curled onto her shoulder. “But sometimes being there for someone you love is all you can do, the best you can do. Don’t bury yourself in this race and miss out on time with your dad.”

“It’s a healthy distraction and a good cause.” But it also gives me a chance to be away from the main house for hours at a time, to leave the estate to train when our father’s noticeable decline wears on my soul. My mother is already discussing the modifications to their suite of rooms that will need to be made to keep my father safe as the disease progresses.

“I’ll chat to Alex.” Rory cradles Grace in her arms and wipes her mouth. “Baby snuggles?”

“Oh, go on then.” I rise and take Grace from her, wedging her into the crook of my arm like a rugby ball. “If I’m going to be the favorite, fun uncle, I need every advantage over my competition.”

“Tattooed bad boy Prince Brice cradling a baby.” Rory digs her phone out from the side of the chair. “Hold still. PR will be so pleased I remembered to take a photo they can release to the public.”

I chuckle and give her a grin while raising Grace so her tiny face is visible. “As long as they hashtag it Nanny Brice, I’m all for it.”

Rory snorts as she closes her phone. “I’ll let them know. Seeing you holding his daughter might soften Alex a little too.”

“I’m winning all over the place.” Stealing the hearts of the public, softening my brother’s tough outer shell, and becoming this little one’s top contender for uncle of the year. As long as the Alzheimer’s Board votes me onto the race team, I’ll be on my way to carving out my own sliver of happiness. A new adventure awaits.

Chapter Four

Maren

In front of me on the conference table is an impressive list of Melody Winter’s athletic and wilderness-based accomplishments. After Caitlin’s suggestion, I went out to Padget Bay and met with Melody to see whether she’d have time to commit to the racing team. Her response wasn’t enthusiastic, but she agreed to let me put her forward as a candidate. While I didn’t make her any promises in either direction, I’m confident. To keep the team balanced and to lead with experience, she’s the best choice. Many, many racing teams have three men on them, but I won’t be giving Brice or anyone else that tidbit of information.

Brice doesn’t stand a chance once I get talking, even though he must have told everyone at the palace he was vying for a spot. Otherwise, I’m not sure why the royal PR machine would have kicked into high gear. They released a photo of Brice cradling the heir to the throne this week, and if that isn’t outright manipulation of the public, I don’t know what is. The whole island was buzzing at the sight of Brice looking so comfortable with the tiny baby. Given his playboy image, it was a good move to make him more palatable for any upcoming opportunities.

Shame he won’t be getting any.

“And our final item,” Tim says, checking his agenda. “Prince Brice has offered to be the final member of the race team, and unless—”

“I have an alternate candidate.” I rise from my chair, and I circle the conference table, giving everyone, including Brice, a copy of my candidate’s accomplishments.

“Oh, perfect,” Brice says, and he takes out his own folder. “Thought it might be overkill, but I’ve got a list of mine too.” He follows me around the room, handing out his own sheaf of papers. “Some light reading.” He plucks Melody’s sheet from the table and flips it over. “This is... well. Single sided. But it’s something, isn’t it?”

When our gazes connect across the table, he has the audacity to smirk.

“I think my fellow board members will find that Melody’s skill set aligns directly with what’s needed for the race. An extensive resume isn’t necessary, just the right one. She’s a fantastic athlete, and she’s female.”

“Her biological sex doesn’t really matter, does it?” Brice rocks back in his leather chair.

“A balanced team is a better team,” I say.

“Team New Zealand, Team Australia, and the top-rated team in the USA would disagree with your assessment. They’ve only ever had one female on any of their winning teams.” Brice raises his eyebrows over the top of Melody’s piece of paper.

It appears someone used all their spare royal time to do some research. Or he made someone else do it. Seems more likely. If he was truly a worthy opponent, this battle of wills might be fun.

“That’s true,” I admit. “Training a balanced team to victory would be quite an accomplishment. With Melody, we can make that happen.”

“Oh,” Brice says with what has to be a mock confused expression on his face. “I thought the point of the race was to raise money for charity, not to stroke your ego as a coach.”

“All right,” Tim says, holding up a hand. “Why don’t we all take a few minutes in silence to look over the qualifications of our two candidates. Maren, I’m assuming you’ve spoken with Melody, and she’s interested in participating?”

“She is,” I say. Interested is the wrong word, but I’m not going to risk my chances here. “With her, we’d have a chance at the prize money, which we could add to the donation pile.”

Brice doesn’t contradict me; he merely raises his eyebrows in a way that suggests he doesn’t believe me. Truthfully, the team with Melody or Brice probably doesn’t have much chance of winning.