“You must marry and produce an heir. Falling in love is a luxury.”
While the saying was refined over the centuries, the sentiment remained the same. Royal Blues married. All of them. Heir or not.
Gus peered up at the portrait of King Louis V. “Thanks, Gramps. What do you do if you’re unlucky in love? Like me?”
Try as he might, Gus could not see himself living fifty, sixty years with someone he merely liked. Call him a romantic, but he wanted heart-pounding love. Memories of passionate nights, giving themselves to one another, exhausted at the end of it all.
He wanted a woman with whom he could relax in the library, reading, breaking the silence every now and then with, “Listen to this line.”
He wanted to romp with their children, to tell them how loved and wanted they were. Teach them football, how to ride horses, and struggle to understand their new math homework.
He was grateful Mum wouldn’t force him into anything. It wasn’t in her modern royal nature. He was confident if he couldn’t find a woman to fit the bill, he’d remain alone.
Confident, yes. Eager about his future? No.
Approaching Mum’s office, Gus braced for a surge of negative sensations that had plagued him the year before he hopscotched over the Atlantic.
He’d had no peace back then. No sense of normalcy. One evening he couldn’t bring himself to drive through the palace gates, so he parked down by the port and slept in his car—much to Mum’s dismay.
Gus had to go to bat for his protection officer, keep him from getting sacked. But he’d sent the man home that night, promising he was going to his apartment. But he never made it.
Mum’s secretary nodded as Gus approached. “She’s expecting you, sir. Welcome home.”
“Good to be home, Mason.”
Mum stood when he entered, removing her reading glasses. If there was a classic “queen” smile, she possessed it. Some said his “world-famous” smile began with her.
“My prodigal has returned.” She reached for his hands as she angled to kiss his cheek, then brought him close for a hug. Her familiar perfume reminded him of the goodness of home. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you,” he said. “But I’m hardly a prodigal, Mum.”
Queen Catherine II was a modern royal. When she found herself queen twenty-five years ago, decades before her time, she brought the House of Blue and every tending service into the technological age.
She’d studied and learned, visited tech companies in the city and around the world. To this day, technical magazines sat on her bedside table. When social media boomed, she was one of the first monarchs to dip her royal oar into the waters.
She modernized policy and procedure, the staff pay, uniforms, and customs, all the while skillfully keeping the valued traditions that made Lauchtenland an ancient European treasure.
East of England, west of Brighton Kingdom, Lauchtenland was a vital ally to the Brits and Brightonians, as well as Sweden, Denmark, and Norway.
A graduate of both Haxton University and Yale, Mum earned degrees in politics, as well as the law. She studied military strategy and knew a good deal about how the economy worked. She kept Lauchtenland leaders and the privy council on their toes.
“You’re tan. I’m a bit jealous.” Mum held him back for inspection, her gaze drifting to his hair and beard.
“The hair stays.” Gus answered her unspoken request. “And the beard.”
“Did I say anything? I’m taking it all in, this new look of yours.”
“Tell me the news.” Gus backed toward the tea trolley. “Are you looking forward to your crown prince’s wedding?”
“Very much. I heard you dined with them last night. What did you think? You’ve known of Holland for a long time, but now that she’s your future sister-in-law, does she come up to the mark?”
“She does. Mostly she makes John happy.” Gus poured two cups of tea, sweetening them both with cream. “I’m only just getting to know the real Lady Holland, but she seems prepared for the life she’s marrying into.” Gone was his American accent. He spoke with the tone and formality of the House of Blue.
Mum reclined in her favorite winged chair while Gus stationed himself by the window. The snow had stopped, but low-flying gray clouds promised a dreary day.
“You’re situated with Stern?” Mum’s teacup was poised by her lips. “He should’ve given you the spring schedule. You’ve a lot to catch up on.”
“He said he’s missed me. Spent the past year twiddling his thumbs. He was more than eager to get to work. We’re meeting this afternoon, but really, Mum, you should’ve reassigned him while I was away.”
