I take a breath, bracing myself. “It was a mistake.”
Something flashes in his eyes—disappointment, perhaps, or resignation. “A mistake,” he repeats flatly.
“Not for the reasons you think,” I hurry on, needing him to understand. “Not because I don’t want... this. But because I can’t have it.”
“Can’t?” He steps closer still, until we’re nearly touching. “Or won’t allow yourself?”
“Is there a difference?”
“All the difference in the world.” His voice drops lower. “One is impossible. The other is a choice.”
I turn away, moving to the edge of the small clearing where the meditation arch stands. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It isn’t simple.” He follows, not allowing me to create distance. “Nothing worthwhile ever is. But, Leo, you’ve spent your whole life serving others—your father, your sister, your country. When do you get to choose something for yourself?”
The question strikes at something deep within me, a longing I’ve buried beneath duty and obligation. “That’s not how this works. I am who I am. My position comes with responsibilities, expectations.”
“And sacrifices?” He rounds to face me again. “Is that what I am to you? Another sacrifice on the altar of duty?”
His bluntness pulls me up short. “That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not.” His expression softens slightly. “But neither is denying yourself happiness out of fear.”
“It’s not fear,” I protest automatically. “It’s practicality. The Prime Minister already has reservations about protecting the sites we mapped today. If there’s even a hint of personal involvement between us, the opposition could use it to discredit the entire project.”
“Is that what you’re worried about? The project?”
I run a hand through my hair, frustration breaking through my usual composure. “Of course I’m worried about the project. These sites have been sacred to our people for centuries. If we can’t protect them now, they’ll be lost forever.”
“And you think your personal happiness would somehow compromise that protection?”
“It’s not about happiness,” I argue, though even to my own ears, the words ring hollow. “It’s about appearance, about maintaining the neutrality needed to navigate these negotiations.”
Rangi steps closer, his gaze intent. “Tell me something, Leo. When you were marking the sacred sites today, when you put your finger on the Valley of Whispers knowing full well it sits on one of the richest mineral deposits in the country—was that a neutral act?”
I stare at him, caught off guard by his knowledge of the geological surveys.
“Your commitment to our heritage isn’t neutral,” he continues. “It’s passionate. It’s personal. And that passion is what makes you effective. Just as your passion in other areas could make you more whole.”
His hand reaches for mine, fingers brushing my wrist in a touch that sends heat up my arm. “What are you really afraid of, Leo? The political complications? Or the fact that I might actually matter to you?”
His words hit too close to home, peeling back layers of protection I’ve built up over years. “You don’t understand what’s it’s like.”
“Then help me understand.” His fingers intertwine with mine, the contact sending electricity through my veins. “Make me understand why you’re willing to walk away from something that could be extraordinary.”
I should pull away. Instead, I find myself tightening my grip on his hand, anchoring myself to him as I struggle to articulate fears that have defined me for so long.
“The nightclub photo...” I begin, the memory still sharp enough to sting. “You weren’t there for the aftermath.”
“I saw the reports.”
“Reports don’t capture what it was like.” I swallow hard, the words difficult even now. “They don’t show Kit fielding questions about her ‘deviant’ brother during diplomatic meetings. They don’t show Charlotte getting harassed outside her university. They don’t show my mother having to defend her son’s ‘lifestyle choices’ to pearl-clutching traditionalists.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes. “And you think the same would happen now?”
“I know it would. But worse.” I meet his gaze steadily. “I’m not some twenty-year-old kid who people are assume is just ‘experimenting.’ I’m third in line to the throne, the Crown’s representative to the tribes. If we’re photographed together, it wouldn’t just be personal embarrassment. It could jeopardize everything we’re working for.”
“You give yourself too much credit,” he says, though his tone is gentle. “And not enough credit to your people.”
