Page 38 of Duty and Desire

Chapter Thirty-Four

Nick

I found Gio outside, sitting in my favorite spot. He glanced up as I approached, his forehead creasing into a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

I sat beside him. “Not wrong, as such. I’ve been talking to Daniela about the ball. We’ve invited about a hundred guests from all over the country.”

Another step toward the throne, a celebration of my father’s life and my accession, and undoubtedly an evening of reminders about his reign.

And they expect me to emulate him.

Gio bit his lip. “Is real life intruding again?”

I leaned back, chuckling. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I? But back to the ball… Claudia is going to Zurich later this morning. Dress shopping.”

Gio stared at me. “Hasn’t she left it rather late? ”

I laughed. “She always does. But she says you’re going too. You need a suit, after all.”

Gio sighed. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb, although I have a feeling wearing the right clothes won’t make a damn bit of difference.”

“Hey.” I twisted to look at him. “No one has made you uncomfortable here, have they?”

“No, but then again they wouldn’t dare. I’m your guest. But these people coming to the ball… Are we talking royalty? Old noble Eisenland families? Distinguished, important people?” His face fell. “Maybe it would be better if I didn’t attend.”

I stared at him. “And if I said I need you to be there? For me? Which I know is me being utterly selfish, but?—”

“Then I’ll be there.” His eyes locked onto mine. “But only for you.” He tilted his head. “Okay, give me the whole story. Because something is still bothering you.”

“The palace housekeeper spoke with me this morning. She asked me what I wanted to do about my father’s private study.

” I stared at the fountain. “No one has been in there since he died. But I don’t want it to stay the way it is, a shrine to his memory.

There are enough rooms like that already in the palace.

” I huffed. “And yet I haven’t had the courage to go inside. ”

Gio stood. “Then let’s go there now, the two of us. Strike while the iron is hot, and all that.” He smiled. “I’ll hold your hand when no one is looking.”

Having him with me would be enough.

I nodded. “You’re right. I should do it now.”

We walked side by side into the palace, and I led him to the door adjacent to my father’s bedroom. The key sat in the lock, and what hit me so hard that it felt as tangible as a blow, was that the last person to have turned it would have been my father before he left on his skiing trip.

When Gio asked me what had just gone through my mind, I told him .

He frowned. “I’d meant to ask you about that. Your father seemed to be the kind of king who wouldn’t travel with his heir because it was against protocol. You know, in case something happened to both of them.” He grimaced. “Which of course it did. So how come they both went skiing?”

I sighed. “Because both of them loved the sport. And perhaps he thought he was immortal, that it would never happen.” I turned the key, pushed the door open, and we went into the study.

The blinds he’d had installed had been lowered, and I raised them, spilling light into the small room.

There wasn’t much in it: a bookcase, an antique desk with a worn leather chair behind it, and a dark brown leather couch beneath the window.

On the desks were neat piles of papers, folders, envelopes…

I sniffed, and my heart stuttered. “This rooms smells of him.”

What surprised me was how the scent comforted me.

Gio stroked the chair. “This looks as though it got a lot of use.”

I smiled. “It probably belonged to my grandfather, or perhaps even further back than him.”

“If you won’t leave it as his study, what will you do with it?”

I gazed at the wood-paneled walls. “To be honest? I have no idea.” I trailed my finger along the edge of the desk.

“He was always a man who preferred neatness over chaos.” I picked up the nearest pile.

“I should go through these, I suppose. There may be important documents in here.” I sat in the chair and leafed through, recognizing my father’s slanting penmanship in a heartbeat.

I smiled. “I don’t think he possessed a laptop, although my brother did.

Father proclaimed himself a Luddite when it came to technology. ”

Gio sat on the couch. “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile when you mention him.”

Which spoke volumes.

I divided the papers into two piles—ones to be kept, and those to be destroyed.

When I saw my name, my heart thudded.

“Gio…” I glanced across at him. “This is a letter, addressed to me .” I peered at the top of the page. “He wrote it May seventeenth, the day they left for Switzerland.” I swallowed. “The day before he died.”

Gio’s breathing caught. “What does it say? Can you tell me?”

My voice shook as I read.

Nikolaus, my son,

I believe it was a tradition for wartime pilots in days of old to write a letter to their loved ones before leaving on a mission, in case they should never return.

I am not a superstitious man, but this morning I was seized by the desire to commit my feelings to paper.

I have never done such a thing, or even contemplated it, but I could not drive the idea from my mind.

So if you are reading this, then perhaps it was indeed a premonition, and I am no more.

Knowing you as I do, you might not care to read my words.

After all, you have not replied to any of my letters sent these past three years.

But if you do so now, know this—I have thought of you more than you believe.

You were always strong-willed, always determined to follow your own path. I have never known whether that was a curse or a gift, but I suppose a father should take some pride in raising a son who will not be bent, even by a king. I did not say that to you when you left.

I should have.

I will not pretend to understand the choices you have made, nor will I say that I approve of them.

I have spent too many years believing a man must live a certain way.

Standards do not bend easily when they have held up a crown for so long.

And yet, in the quiet hours, I have wondered if I was wrong to be so unyielding.

A king’s duty is to his country first, his family second—at least, that is what I told myself. But I have found, as the years pass, that duty is a cold thing to hold when there is no one left to share it. Your absence has been keenly felt, though pride forbade me from ever saying so.

I am no fool. I know I drove you away. Perhaps you think I wanted you gone. That is not true. Not entirely. What I wanted was for you to be the son I had imagined. And when you were not, I did not know how to love the son you are.

That failure is mine. It may even be the reason why you find it difficult to grieve for me. I hope that in your heart there is still a flicker of the love you once felt for your father, but I see now that on too many occasions, I acted as your king, not your parent.

Support your brother who follows me. And if—God forbid—he too is taken from this world before his time, then the crown will be yours.

You too will know its weight. I do not envy you that burden.

It will demand everything of you. But if you are still the man I raised, you will bear it, and you will not break.

And though you may not believe it, there is pride in my heart for you.

Not because you are like me—you never were—but because you refused to be anything other than yourself.

I should destroy this letter on my return.

But perhaps I will not. I may keep it for the day you return to our land. And if you then find any value in these words, then perhaps there is still a bridge between us.

If not, then this letter will remain what it is—too little, too late. I leave it to you to decide.

Your father.

My throat tightened. “Why did he never say any of this?” Every word of the letter revealed a man I had never known, a man whose disapproval was apparently not as rigid as I had believed.

Gio put his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him. The tears I should have shed at his funeral chose this moment to prick my eyes and trickle down my cheeks, soaking into Gio’s shirt.

“You told yourself you didn’t need him, didn’t you?

” His voice was gentle, soothing. “But I think one need remained—you wanted his approval, whether you can admit that or not.” He raised my chin with his fingers.

“If this letter teaches you anything, I hope it’s that you should confront the past, rather than run from it. ”

I buried my face in his shirt, breathing in the scent of cotton and Gio’s warm, earthy smell. We stayed that way for a minute or two, and I was content to bathe in the silence, to inhale the lingering fragrance I knew had come from my father’s pipe.

Gio’s phone buzzed, shattering the calm. He peered at the screen with a sigh. “Duty calls. Well, Claudia does. Time to go shopping.”

I straightened. “I think I might stay here a while.” Where my father’s presence still lingered.

He smiled and kissed my forehead. “That sounds like a great plan. When I get back, we’ll give you a floor show.

” He chuckled. “I might even use the ballroom as my own personal catwalk. I think I can do a mean moody impression of a model, don’t you?

” Then he pulled a face, eyebrows arched, jaw set, with a full-on pout.

I laughed, and Lord , that felt good.

When the door closed behind him, I leaned back in the chair, staring at the letter.

He didn’t change his mind.

He didn’t suddenly become a LGBTQ+ activist. To be honest, I would never have expected him to do that.

But he had attempted to build a bridge between us, a move I hadn’t anticipated.

I gazed at his study. And now I’ll never know how things might have been, if only he’d been prepared to say what lay in his heart—and I’d been prepared to listen.