Conveniently Wed to the Prince

‘So do you believe monarchy is an appalling or outdated tradition? Do you believe Lycander should be a democracy?’

‘I believe that is a debatable point. I do not believe that just because there has been a monarch for centuries there needs to be one for the next century. My point is that if the crown headed my way I would refuse it. Not on democratic principles but for personal reasons. I don’t want to rule and I wouldn’t change my whole life for the sake of tradition. Or duty.’

‘So if Frederick had decided not to take the throne you would have refused it?’

‘Yup.’

Stefan had no doubt of that. In truth he’d been surprised that Frederick had agreed. Their older half-brother Axel, Lycander’s ‘Golden Prince’, had been destined to rule, and from all accounts would have made a great ruler.

As a child Stefan hadn’t known Axel well—he had been at boarding school, a distant figure, though he had always shown Stefan kindness when he’d seen him. Enough so that when Axel had died in a tragic car accident Stefan had felt grief and would have attended the funeral if his father had let him. But Alphonse had refused to allow Stefan to set foot on Lycandrian soil.

Axel’s death had left Frederick next in line and his brother had stepped up. More fool him.

‘My younger brothers would be welcome to it.’

‘You’d have handed over the Lycandrian crown to one of the “Truly Terrible Twins”?’

An image of his half-brothers splashed on the front page of the tabloids crossed his mind. Emerson and Barrett rarely set foot in Lycander, but their exploits sold any number of scurrilous rags.

‘Yes,’ he stated—though even he could hear that his voice lacked total conviction.

Holly surveyed him through narrowed eyes. ‘Forget tradition. What about duty? Wouldn’t you have felt a duty to rule? A duty to your country?’

‘Nope. I think Frederick’s a first-class nutcase to take it on. I have one life, Holly, and I intend to live it for myself.’ Exactly as he so wished his mother had done. ‘I don’t see anything wrong with that as long as I don’t hurt anyone.’

She leaned across the table and her blue eyes sparkled, her face animated by the discourse. ‘You could argue that by not taking the throne Frederick would have been hurting a whole country.’

Stefan surveyed her across the table and she nodded for emphasis, her lips parted in a small ‘hah’ of triumph at the point she’d made, and his gaze snagged on her mouth. Hard to remember the last time a date had sparked this level of discussion, had been happy to flat-out contradict him. Not that Holly was a date...

As the silence stretched a fraction too long her lips tipped in a small smirk. ‘No answer to that?’

‘Actually, I do. I just got distracted.’

For a moment confusion replaced the smirk. ‘By wh—?’ And then she realised, and a small flush climbed her cheekbones.

Now the silence shimmered. Her eyes dropped, skimmed over his chest, and then she rallied.

‘Good excuse, Mr Petrelli, but I’m not buying it. You have no answer.’

For a moment he couldn’t even remember the question. Think. They had been talking about Frederick. What might have happened if he had refused the throne...

‘I have an answer. It could be that Emerson or Barrett would turn into a great ruler. Or Lycander would become a successful democracy.’

‘And you would be fine with that?’

‘Sure. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about Lycander—I’m just not willing to give up my whole life for it, for the sake of tradition or because I “should”. One life. One chance.’

His mother’s life had been so short, so tragic, because of the decisions she’d made—decisions triggered by duty and love.

‘Don’t you agree?’

‘No. Sometimes you have to do what you “should” do because it is the right thing to do. And that is more important than what you want to do.’

Stefan frowned, suspecting that she was speaking in specific terms rather than general. ‘So what are your dreams? Your plans for life. Let’s say you win Il Boschetto di Sole and give it to your father—what then?’

‘Then I will help him—work the land, have kids...’ Her voice was even; the animation had vanished.

‘And if you don’t win?’