"Your mother thinks it might be time to start dating again."
"What?" His voice shook slightly. His insides too, as if a light earthquake had rumbled through the foundation Valentin's being.
"It's going on two years."
Eighteen months and two days. Only that long since the day his younger brother had betrayed him. Or at least since the day Valentin had discovered the betrayal. Valentin had been completed blindsided, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that Max and Annika had been together behind his back for far longer.
Valentin had been devoted to Annika. Besotted with her. Blind to her faults. Or maybe that had been willful on his part.
His first duty was to his country. He'd told her that on their second date, insulated in a tiny, private booth at a coffee shop in Paris, where they'd met. He'd been in France on business, a meeting with the prime minister.
Annika had claimed to understand, to admire his dedication to his people. But all his trips overseas, the endless parliament meetings, the late nights spent reading the newest proposed bill or trade agreement instead of being out on the town...
Annika had strayed, right into his brother's arms.
And stayed there, apparently, even though Max's longest relationship before her had had a shelf life of two weeks.
Thinking about dating again, about allowing someone into his life, made Valentin think he might yet see the return of his eggs Benedict.
Stone stomach. He attempted a smile at his father, even as his mind raced for the right answer. He folded the linen napkin in his lap, took his time placing the perfect square that emerged under his fingers onto the table beside his plate.
"I am much too busy with matters of importance to this country." That sounded too stiff, formal. Father was going to see right through him. "Dating would be too much of a distraction."
Father's pointed gaze missed nothing. "You've always felt the responsibility of the crown. But lately you've been burying yourself in your duties. Even before—you know."
Valentin's smile grew thin. "Is that Mother's opinion or yours?"
Father didn't show any sign he felt the blow, though Valentin had meant the words as a strike. His father’s gaze was intent, and maybe a little sad.
"How long has it been since you took some time for yourself? Thought about something other than tariffs and treaties?"
Every night. Every night when he wondered what he might've done differently to make Annika happy. Where he'd gone wrong in his relationship with Max. How could his brother have betrayed him like he had?
But that wasn't what Father meant.
"The crown does not sleep." It was one of Mother's favorite sayings. When he'd been a young boy and asked why Mother and Father got to stay up late when he had to be tucked in early, she'd used it frequently. Later, when he'd asked why they didn't vacation abroad like some of his friends did, his Mother had answered, "The crown doesn't vacation."
"Your mother sleeps," Father said. "She relies on her staff when she needs to and she understands that if she works twenty-four hours a day, she's going to burn out. She was close to it when we met, you know. Burying all of herself in her duties because her father was dying and she didn't know how to handle it."
What was left of Valentin's smile was scraps. No doubt his bared teeth would've terrified a lesser mortal than his father. "Then it is a good thing you're in excellent health."
Father opened his mouth, no doubt to explain that hadn’t been what he'd meant.
Valentin pushed back from the table, though he didn't stand. "I am not burning out. I have always loved my country, our people. I do my best to serve them diligently. Mother should recognize that." He nearly choked on his next words. "I'm only twenty-five. There is plenty of time for dating. Later. There's no royal decree that says I have to be married by thirty."
He knew, because he'd once looked. He'd been ten and Max nine when his younger brother had convinced him there was a marriage agreement that had required he marry the daughter of a visiting German dignitary, a horrid little girl who treated the servants nastily and stuck out her tongue at him whenever no adults were looking.
"You're going to have to let someone in eventually," Father said.
Valentin pictured his wall again, and his heart, which he imagined as a crumbling castle behind it. It had been bombed to the foundations. Valentin had built walls to protect it, but there was nothing there to protect anymore. He had no heart to give.
"Does she have someone in mind?" Until Annika, he'd expected to make a political match. Marry to unite two counties and all of that. He couldn't imagine trusting anyone else with the deepest parts of himself, but if it was for his country, maybe he could bear it.
But Father shook his head and wore an expression of faint... chagrin?
"What?" Valentin's tone became sharper as his temper got shorter. He stood, straightening his shirt cuffs. He had a meeting in an hour and needed to prepare.
"She's got this idea that..." Father shook his head. He stood too, his height a reminder of how much Valentin admired the man.
