by Nora Flite
I didn’t know what to do.
I just knew I had to keep the woman I loved safe.
“Larchmont,” Valencia said, drawing his name out. She was frozen where she stood. “There’s no need to do this. We’ve already won, we’re in control.”
“You call this control?” he spit, gesturing with the pistol out over the foyer. The remaining bystanders dropped down, covering their heads. Only I, Nova, and Glen still stood. “These people are so set on making sure their rulers were born with the ‘right’ blood. They don’t care if their king is lazy or selfish. They don’t care if he knows the first thing about the country he’s supposed to run!”
Glen’s fingers slid closer to his gun. I watched him communicating with his men to stay where they were, all without making a sound.
“Son,” Kurtis hissed, “you’re making a scene.”
“No, I’m not. But I will.” The tip of Larch’s pistol swung. I held my breath as it hovered, aiming between me and Nova. “These people don’t know what they need. Let’s just kill the last of this toxic bloodline off, force them to crown someone who knows about ruling. We’ve been coming to Torino for years. Any one of us would know how to run this country better than Thorne.” He fingered the trigger, aiming at my forehead. “I’m thinking . . . me.”
“Larch, no!” Nova screamed.
Everything happened at once. I saw the gun’s flash—felt hands on my shoulder, shoving me down toward the floor. More bangs; more gunshots. I curled my body around Nova on the cold marble. Shoes stampeded around us, someone stepping on my legs as they tripped over me.
I didn’t care about the pain. Protect her! Save her! I sheltered Nova beneath me. Noise continued to storm around us. But all I saw . . . all I heard . . . was Nova. Her breathing was ragged—as if she was sucking in air with all her might. Oh God, the baby. The burst of primal rage shocked me. I was consumed by the possibility that Larchmont had managed to put not just Nova in danger, but my unborn child.
Sitting up, I cupped her face, searching her eyes for information. “Are you okay?” I hushed, knowing she’d hear me over the ruckus around us.
Her whiskey eyes were pulled wide. For a terrible second she said nothing, did nothing. Then she nodded. “I’m fine. The bullet missed.”
Fuck. It was a miracle. Kissing her, I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d thought I’d known what regret was. I hadn’t until I’d nearly lost not just the woman I loved . . . but someone I hadn’t even met yet.
“Let us through, let us pass!”
I knew my father’s voice anywhere. Lifting my head, I spotted him marching through the open front doors. At his side was my mother, and sandwiching them both were Rush and Donnie with their weapons drawn.
At their backs, pouring into the room and up both sides of the stairs, came multiple police in riot gear. “Freeze!” one of them commanded.
My eyes flew to the banister. I’d thought I’d see Larchmont there, ready to fire more bullets. Instead I saw Richard holding his brother in a bear hug from behind. His massive arms kept Larchmont still, even though he was throwing his legs around wildly, eyes furious.
The police and the guards worked efficiently. In seconds they had Larchmont in cuffs. Most of the mob had fled out the front door during the shooting. The people left were guided out onto the front lawn.
My mother caught my eye. She sprinted at me and hugged me hard. “Thorne! Your face, are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I said, unable to keep from wincing when she touched my bruised cheek.
“Lord, I was so worried! No one would tell us where you were! We confronted the Valentines and they played dumb!” Her eyes narrowed on Nova.
“She wasn’t behind this.” I looped my arm around Nova’s waist possessively. My mother stared harder, looking uncertain. “She found out where I was and rescued me.”
“I’m so sorry this all happened,” Nova said. She clasped her hands in front of her in a tight ball. “My parents didn’t tell me they were going to do all this once I had a baby on the way. I was a pawn. Really, I’m sorry.”
My mother covered her mouth with both hands. “Did you say baby? Then the rumor . . . Oh—oh, I’m going to be a grandma! A ma-maw! Me!”
I debated pointing out that she’d forgotten Sammy, Kain’s wife, was due in three months. But Mom looked so relieved I let it go. My soft spot for seeing her happy was always getting bigger.
“Son,” Maverick said, coming beside us. “The police are going to need to talk to you.”
Helping Nova to her feet, I nodded. “I’ve got a lot to say.” I paused. “To everyone, actually.”
All of us walked through the front doors together. Larchmont was thrashing and yelling as the police shoved him into the back of a car. The rest of the Valentines stood in a circle as the police spoke to them. The tension was different, now, but it was still there. “I don’t know why you’re talking to me,” Kurtis said. He spotted me and pointed. “If you’re looking for someone who’s committed a crime, arrest him.”
“Arrest who, the king?” the police officer scoffed.
“Yes!” Kurtis shouted. “Didn’t you see the photo? That man had sex in the royal graveyard. He broke the law, there need to be consequences. Punishments!”
I thought about what Nova had said to me the first day I’d arrived in this country. She asked me what kind of king I would be if I were in charge. At the time, I hadn’t considered that ruling was a possibility for me. Now here I was, listening to someone else decide what should happen to me for breaking the law.
The police and the royal guards stood there, looking unsure. I didn’t see the ones who had allowed me to be led to the small room and beaten bloody yesterday. I wondered if they’d sensed that things had gone out of control and it was best to hide out until they saw where the chips were going to fall.
“If you’re going to arrest Thorne,” Nova said, stepping forward, “then you have to arrest me, too. Remember? It was me that was breaking the same law as the king was.”
Valencia narrowed her eyes. “You’re seriously going to do this, you’d sacrifice everything we’ve worked so hard for just to defy us? After all that I did for you?”
“I’ll forever be thankful that you saved my life, Mom,” Nova said, striding closer to the group, as if she was trying to make her mother understand . . . like she thought it was possible to appeal to her. “But I’m not going to let you control me with that anymore.” Holding herself to her full height, she took a solid breath. In that instant she transformed into a natural queen. “Guards, arrest my family. They’re enemies of the crown, their goal was always to steal the throne.”
“Ungrateful,” Valencia spit. She was bristling with so much anger that the cops looked ready to handcuff her next. “You’re ungrateful! Why did I ever think we could rely on you to do what’s best for this family? I wish I’d never saved your life!”
Nova didn’t even flinch. She was rooted to the earth, looking like a calm statue of a regal knight on his way into battle. But even if she was steady, I was flooding with sorrow for her. I had issues with my family, but I never once thought they’d be happy if I was dead.
Curling my arm around her hip, I held her against me. She flashed me an appreciative smile.
My father scanned the Valentines, his tone as cold as a melting icicle. “Did you seriously try to overthrow the king?”
“Earlier,” I said, finally speaking up, “Larch shouted as much from the balcony. He wasn’t afraid to try and murder me with everyone watching. From the beginning, the Valentines have wanted us gone. When they heard that their daughter was pregnant with my child, they realized they had an opportunity to ensure the crown would stay in their control without us around to interfere.”
“It’s true,” Richard agreed, drawing some surprised glances from his own family. Larch, sequestered in the cop car, had his face pressed to the window.
“Richard!” Kurtis gasped, reaching for his son with a vein in his neck bulging.
The officer nearest him grabbed him before he could get there. Two other cops handcuffed Kurtis’s hands as he struggled. “How could you say that? What’s wrong with you? Treason in this country—they kill you for that!”
Richard looked toward me, then settled his stare on Nova. “It’s one thing to make a power grab. It’s another to willingly risk your sister’s life. When Larch pulled that gun, he didn’t care if he hit her accidentally. I couldn’t stand by and watch that happen. Sorry, Nova. Sorry this went so far.”
She held my arm with both of hers, squeezing, talking to her brother. “It’s okay. I get it. Thank you, Richard. I mean it.”
Glen cleared his throat. Every one of the guards and officers looked at him with a respect that had no doubt grown firmly over the years of his service. “You heard the king, these people worked together to commit conspiracy against the crown. Arrest them all.”
“And what about what he did?” Kurtis yelled, fighting the officers who shoved him into the back of a different car.
“He’s the king,” Glen said, shrugging. “No one here is going to arrest him for using his own land however he wants. Especially not when he’s given the monarchy its first child in decades.”
The paparazzi from earlier surrounded us, snapping photos as the Valentines were driven off the property. There was a constant buzz of talking now. Every microphone was shoved in our faces.
My father and mother stood to my right, and Glen was on my left, opposite Nova. I maintained my grip on her hand like I would never be able to let her go. I didn’t want to. So I wouldn’t.
Questions swarmed us with the cops now gone:
“Your Majesty, is it true that you broke the law?”
“Yes,” I said gravely. “I did.”
“Do you think it’s appropriate for a king to be caught with his literal pants down?”
I knew it was wrong to laugh, but I couldn’t help it; all the stress inside me melted away in that split second. “Oh no, it’s definitely not appropriate. No king worth his salt would do something as stupid as what I did. Getting caught, I mean,” I said, amending my statement as I pulled Nova closer to me. “I don’t want anyone to think I meant that I regret having sex with my wife.”
There were a few chuckles from the crowd.
“Is the queen really pregnant?” another reporter asked, mic halfway to banging my nose.
“Yes,” I started to say, glancing at Nova. “The queen is pregnant, but I—”
“Who attacked you, leaving that black eye?”
Touching my temple, I flinched. “Larchmont Valentine. He coordinated with some guards in the castle to arrest me in secret.”
“Do you think the guards can be trusted?”
“Can anyone be bribed these days?”
“Has this country gotten better or worse since you came into power?”
The questions started coming faster and faster. I wasn’t able to keep up, I was getting dizzy. The camera lights were bright and blinding. Whatever relief I felt now that the Valentines had been taken away evaporated under this new assault. That last question hit me particularly hard.
My father stepped forward, standing to his full height. “Of course this country has gotten better since my son arrived.” His voice boomed over the camera shutters. “Look at the productivity over the past month alone, at the amount of construction that’s being caught up on and even started anew. The corruption left behind by the influence of the former queen’s family is being extracted day by day. How could anyone ask if this country is better off?”
I stared at him in amazement. The words coming from his mouth were defensive, like he couldn’t handle the idea of people slandering me in front of him. I didn’t know what to do. He’d never been so openly kind, not that I could remember, anyway.
He thinks Torino’s better with me here? I wondered to myself. Nova laid her head on my shoulder. She said softly, just so I could hear, “Everything your father says is true. I haven’t seen this city flourishing for a long time. Every summer when I visited it seemed to get worse. But not now.”
My flutter of pride was brief. Both of them are right, but for the wrong reason.
This country was doing better. But it had nothing to do with me.
Maverick was the one attending all the meetings with the politicians I loathed.
He was the one working on the backed-up contracts.
The physical work being done that no one else could get to fast enough for his satisfaction? All him. My father had worked both mentally and physically to begin the long process of healing his home country.
The paparazzi were still yelling questions, but I wasn’t listening to them anymore. Lifting my head, I said, “I have an announcement to make.” People went quiet, the microphones edging ever closer. I could’ve taken a bite out of one of them if I wanted to. “I, Hawthorne Luca Fredricson, the king of this country, have decided to step down.”
The roar of disbelief was deafening. My father stared at me with his lips going thin and white. My mother clutched at the shawl around her throat.
Nova lifted her head, her eyes not shocked—they were simply curious.
“Everything that’s happened, everything you all have said, it’s made me realize something.” Shrugging, I clasped Nova’s hand with both of mine, staring at her, speaking to her. “I love this woman. I love that she’s carrying our child. I want to be at her side for every last breath we both ever take. But I don’t need to be king, and she doesn’t need to be queen, for me to do those things.”
“Thorne,” she whispered.
Smiling, I scanned the crowd; they were a wall of camera lenses. “I created nothing but scandals. I’m not entirely sure that me being here has actually been good for any of you. Yet the country is better on the whole . . . you just don’t have me to thank for it.” I turned to lock eyes with Maverick. “You have him. My father.”
“Hawthorne,” he said, “you can’t do this. If you step down, there is no one—”
“There is,” I said, catching my mother’s startled smile. She’d guessed what I was about to say. “Dad, from the beginning this crown belonged to you. It was never meant for me.”
Maverick’s hands went slack at his sides. He was at a loss for words, something that was very rare. As he stood there watching me, reading me, trying to decide what to do next, a new voice spoke out from the crowd. “Your son is right.”
I recognized the man as the one who’d slung slurs at my mother the day we’d left our hotel on the way to meet with the Valentines. He said, “You’re the first person in a long time to give a shit about this country. I don’t know why you ran away years ago, and as much as it pisses me off that you did, it doesn’t matter now. You’re here. You’re the one who should sit on the throne, because you’re the only one who seems to know what the hell needs to be done anymore. I don’t know about everybody else, but I’d celebrate you being king.”
More flashes of cameras, more whispers that rose into excited cheering and exuberant nods of affirmation. These people knew a real king when they saw one. The newscasters moved away, surrounding my father and abandoning me to the side.
I’d spent years sitting to the side like this. The sensation of impotence had driven me forward without any purpose. It had left me hollow and hurt and angry. Right then, standing in my father’s shadow, watching him be praised . . . watching his smile grow . . . it was the first time that being ignored didn’t hurt.
- EPILOGUE -
HAWTHORNE
The news article on my phone showed a photo of a solemn Kurtis Valentine in front of a white wall, his mug shot. “What will happen to them?” I asked, showing it to my father.
He leaned over, eyeing the screen. “Treason is a serious crime. I told you before.”
“I know. But death?” I flicked my cell phone off. “They’re Nova’s family, awful or not. And Richard . . . he did try to help at the end.”
My father inhaled gently, huffing the air out after a sec
ond. “The sad thing about this country is that it’s changed.” He glanced my way. “The happy thing is that . . . well, it’s changed. When I was younger, I couldn’t picture a time when the crimes they pulled could be handled with anything but brutal death. Now? It’s my decision. I make the law. Let Nova know her family won’t be killed for this, but they won’t be leaving our prison anytime soon, either.”
Smiling in relief, I looked back out over the huge castle yard. “She’ll feel better hearing that.”
“Good.” Clearing his throat, my dad studied the same part of the garden I was. “Hester and I used to play out here.” He pointed with a thick finger. There was an ivory-colored statue of an angel, its base tinted with green ivy. “We climbed that one a lot. Even after we were too big, and the gardeners would shake their fists at us, swearing we’d snap it in two.”
“Did you?” I asked, chuckling at the image.
“Hester chipped the tip of the right wing off. We both pretended it had always been missing that piece.”
From our distance, I could almost spot the broken feather. As we stood there, the light wind playing through our hair, we forgot how to force a conversation. This was how we were. How we’d learned to interact.
Any other time, I’d have walked off. His silence was a cue to leave. Instead I stayed there with my hands in my jacket pockets. I didn’t know the next time I’d be around my father. Or even in this country.
“You don’t think I believe in you,” he said abruptly, still looking out over the roses.
I gave him a wary side-eye. “Did Glen tell you I overheard you out here weeks ago, talking about me?”
My father scrutinized me with a bittersweet smile. “Son, I don’t need anyone to tell me how you perceive me. It’s in your face, in how you speak to me. In the brittle jokes you make to keep us from ever having a serious conversation.”
“You’ve got me pegged,” I admitted, feeling uncomfortable. “I’ve known for years that you never wanted to have to rely on me. I guess I didn’t need to hear it out loud, was all.”
