I hold perfectly still, caught between the urge to lean back into that warmth and the lifetime of training that keeps my feet firmly planted. The air between us feels charged, weighted with unspoken possibilities.
“I’d like to introduce you to some of my family.”
I suck in a breath, forcing myself to appear composed as I turn to find him surrounded by a group of young and old tribal members I recognize from the previous evening’s dinner. Their faces hold the same strong features as Rangi, though some are weathered by years.
“My grandfather’s brothers,” he introduces, “Matua Hemi and Matua Tane.” The two older men step forward, theirperipunimarking them as respected warriors. “And my father’s sister, Whaea Ari.”
She wears aperipuniwith the lines of a healer. She’s small and weathered, with silver in her black hair. But her eyes are sharp and knowing as she takes my measure. “We’ve heard much of you, young prince,” she says in our native tongue. “Both from our grandson and from those who have met you when you attend our land.”
“Only good things, I hope,” I reply in the same language, earning approving nods.
“You honour our traditions,” Matua Hemi says. “It is rare to find any who respect the old ways and are in positions of power.”
“My grandmother made sure of that.” I touch my ownperipuni. “She believed we could not lead our people if we forget who we are.”
“Ah yes.” Whaea Ari’s eyes sparkle. “I met your grandmother once. Quite the firecracker.”
I laugh, knowing it’s an understatement. There’s no doubt in our family where Kit gets her fire from.
“Perhaps,” she continues, her gaze flicking between Rangi and me, “she understood that the heart’s truth matters more than duty’s demands.”
Beside me, Rangi goes very still.
“You have a warrior’s spirit,” Ari observes. “Like calls to like.” Her meaningful glance between Rangi and me makes my collar feel too tight.
Before I can respond, Victoria appears at my elbow. “Your Highness, the Prime Minister would like a word.”
Duty. Always duty.
I want to refuse, to sayno, not now, not this time. I stay in this circle where I can almost grasp what it might feel like to be simply Leo—a man with desires and connections that have nothing to do with duty or crown or kingdom.
But I can’t. I never can.
The isolation hits me anew, a hollowness carved deeper by this glimpse of what might have been. How many moments like this have I sacrificed? How many connections severed before they could take root? I’m surrounded constantly by people whoneed something from me, yet I’ve never felt more adrift, more untethered from anything real.
I glance at Rangi, at his family who’ve welcomed me without deference or agenda. What would it be like to belong somewhere not because of birth or title, but because of who I am beneath all the royal trappings? To have conversations that don’t end the moment state matters arise?
With each summons, each interruption, each “urgent matter,” I feel pieces of myself slipping away—lost to duty, to protocol, to the endless needs of a position I never asked for but cannot escape. The walls of the palace, once my sanctuary, now feel more like a beautifully appointed prison.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, bowing slightly to the elders. “It has been an honour to meet Rangi’s family.”
“Rangi?” Matua Hemi’s eyebrows rise. “Is that what you call him?”
“I—” I falter, caught in surprise. “I’m sorry, did I misstep?”
“No.” Mutua glances at Rangi. “I’m just surprised to hear such familiarity from our Prince.”
“Go,” Rangi interrupts smoothly. “We’ll speak later.”
It’s both a rescue and promise, leaving me off-balance as I follow Victoria toward the palace. At the edge of the grove, I can’t help glancing back.
Rangi stands with his family, proud and strong in the morning light, everything a warrior should be. As if sensing my gaze, he turns. For a moment, our eyes meet across the space.
Like calls to like.
I square my shoulders and walk away. But Ari’s words about heart’s truth and duty’s demands echo, and I wonder which one my spirit would choose if only we were free to do so.
5
