Gus sat, patting his belly. “Food. Daffy’s at a luncheon. I wondered if you’d join me at Clemency Pub for a bite. We’ve not been in a while. I don’t want them to think we’re snubbing them.”
“I’d love to but I can’t. I’ve a mountain of work.”
“Dinner then? Come to us. We’ve barely seen you since you arrived home.” Gus reclined in the chair, stretching his long legs under the desk. “Have you had any response from the state dinner? You were a hit.”
“They’d still prefer the queen.” The sense of destiny infused in him from the scepter had waned during the week.
“The future king is a suitable substitute. Why do you knock yourself?”
“Is that what I’m doing?” John returned to his chair, his composure under control. “I’m merely stating fact. The queen is the preferred monarch.”
“Doesn’t change much,” Gus said. “You’re still the heir.”
“But not officially. Not until the oath.”
“Mum will change the writ. You won’t have to be married. Public sympathy is growing for it.”
“Public sympathy is growing for Hamish Fickle and his idea of no monarchy.”
Gus laughed. “He’s barely got a leg to stand on. He appeals to those who want change for change’s sake. Most of them can’t decide a uni track. The others are the old guard who’d oust the Blues in a thrice only to place the crown on their own heads.”
“If Mum changes the writ, I’ll take my oath.”
Gus was silent for a moment. “Are you concerned for her health? I’ve never seen her like this. Weak, in pain, absent from her duties.”
“The doctors will sort it out. She’s Queen Catherine of Lauchtenland. The warrior blood of the House of Blue is in her veins. She’ll come right in no time.”
“I wonder if the blood is diluted after a millennium.”
“Never!” John pounded the desk with his fist more in jest than anything, but the motion and sound rumbled through him and he almost heard the roar of King Titus I through the centuries.
Mum had to change the writ. Wife or no wife, he would be the next king. Titus didn’t expect a king to have a bride. Neither did the Reins or any Louis’s. Well, except the one King Louis who wanted his playboy crown prince to settle down.
Lost in his own world, John missed when Gus segued the conversation to Gemma.
“—the girl in the social media posts? You seemed comfortable with her.”
“Gemma?” He remembered the photos. Should he share with Gus? “She’s a friend. Nothing more.”
“Good. Cause I’m not sure she’d be suitable for your queen.”
“Why not? You don’t even know her.”
“Neither do you.” Gus leaned forward, a look on his face John didn’t recognize. “What do you know about her? Other than she’s an American, which I don’t trust.”
“Please, Coral left you at the altar for a very good reason. You are both better off.”
“Still, let’s avoid foreign princesses, all right?”
“Yes, I know. What are you inferring?”
“Nothing. I’m inferring nothing.” Gus stood.
“Gus, if you know something about Gemma, tell me.”
“I don’t. Honest.”
The brothers engaged in a visual standoff until John said, “Who investigated her?”
