I have been considering the same idea recently, but hearing Father voice it makes my chest tight. “I like Marvin. He knows his way around the political arena, has relationships with all the major powers and many of the smaller ones, and knows how to navigate around the stickier situations better than most.”
“All to be expected of a former prime minister, but I get the feeling he does not wish to continue his advisory role for much longer. His retirement has not been as restful as he or his wife had hoped.”
Indeed, Marvin Fraust had slipped into his role as my father’s personal advisor almost immediately following his retirement from public office. The lump in my throat, present since the physician entered the study, threatens to choke me. “If I’m to be assuming the crown without you by my side, who better to learn from than the longest serving prime minister in recent history?”
Father swallows hard, seeming to suffer from the same kind of lump. “That will be for you to discuss with him and Lady Fraust then. Of course, it is typical for the private secretary to stay on for the transition period after the new monarch’s ascension, but you willhave need of your own people, ones you have selected and whom you trust.”
I have a few in mind, but I also know Father would like a hand in the selections as well. “Perhaps after Munich, we can start looking at some of the prospects together.”
Father nods, and I fidget with my hands, twisting the ring on my left pinky finger.
“So, does this mean you’re going to get the feeding tube like the doctor suggests?”
Father stands and turns away from me, facing toward the window. The trees on the grounds are dusted with a light layer of snow. The king’s gnarled hands rest on the sill. I notice a new ring on his finger in place of the wedding band he always wears. His other one, the one Mother had given him on their wedding day, must have become too loose. He spins it absently as he gazes out the window at the setting sun.
“Another indignity for your feeble-bodied king.” His whisper is barely audible above the crackle of the fire.
I go to him, placing a hand on his bony shoulder. “Not an indignity, Father. Just a tool to give more time.”
“What time do I have, Fritz?”
My father’s use of my nickname breaks the last of my control. He pulls me tight against him as I finally let go of the tears that I have been holding back. I cry for the arms I once thought so strong that are now so frail, formy brother and sisters who could lose their dad all too soon, for my mother and the love of her life, for my own fear and uncertainty, and for the man who I know will face all his own fears with head high and back straight.
“For you, my son. The time I have left, the time that I am fighting for, it is for you.”
I take a little time to compose myself before going after my brother. It would do him no good if I’m falling apart myself. I grab a couple of beers and throw on a jacket, knowing exactly where to find him. The gleam of city lights behind the walls cast enough glow on the snow-covered ground for me to see without my phone flashlight.
Claus is sitting on a bench under a bare oak tree near the man-made pond toward the back of our walled grounds. It is a favorite spot of his when he needs to get away from the castle or prying eyes for a bit. A curl of smoke from his cigarette glows in the moonlight.
“I thought you quit,” I say as I drop onto the bench next to him and hand him one of the bottles I’m carrying.
“I did. For a bit, at least. Picked it back up when I came home from uni. Cheers.” We tap our bottles together and take a long drink.
I heave a sigh. It wasn’t a difficult decision for my brother to return home as Father’s health took aturn, but I know Claus had thrived at university out from under the shadow of the monarchy.
“I’m sorry.”
Claus takes a long drag, holding the smoke in for a moment before letting it out with each word. “You didn’t give Dad cancer.”
“No, but I am sorry your time away from here was cut short. You should be enjoying your first real time of freedom, figuring out who you are outside of this family.”
He huffs. “I’ll never know who I am outside of the royal family.” His voice carries all the tension of an eyeroll.
“Perhaps not.”
We sip our beer in silence for a while. I have never figured out how to manage Claus when he’s in this kind of mood, sulking and resentful. That’s Anneliese’s speciality.
Scattered snowflakes swirl in the night air, the world seeming to quiet around us. My heart is heavy, and I want nothing more than to grab hold of my brother and keep him close. He was so young when I went away to boarding school. I was home for several months after university, but before I began my service in the Royal Air Corps, but by that time, he was away at Eton.
I look over to the young man next to me and realize I hardly know him beyond face value. “How would you like to come with me to Munich next week?”
“For that social change conference thing?” Heflicks out the ember from his cigarette and pockets the butt.
“I hear it’s a favorite project of a certain Bavarian female footballer.” That much I do know, his borderline obsession with the striker for the Bayern Frauen football team.
“Say less, brother.” He taps his bottle to mine in approval.
We down the last of our beer, and I stand to leave.
“I’m going to need you more in the coming months, Claus. Father is stepping back little by little, and I still can’t manage everything on my own. But eventually, I want you to return to university.”
He nods and lights another cigarette. I don’t return to the palace and instead head straight for the garage where my car waits near the rolling door. Brenton, always a couple steps ahead of me, is already waiting at the gate in his black monstrosity.
