Page 20

“It used to be a lot different.” Flip leaned over so he could see out Brayden’s window and pointed to a spot on the horizon.

Brayden suppressed a shiver at his warmth and tried not to be too obvious about breathing in his smell.

“That’s where the original pit was. Diamond mining…

it’s not glamorous, and it’s bad for the environment in a number of ways.

Chemical runoff can get into fields and streams, and we have such a short growing season here that we can’t afford to have that affect soil quality.

So we were early investors in lab-grown diamonds. ”

“So when you say ‘diamond mine,’ you actually mean ‘diamond lab’?”

“Sort of. The scientists will explain it better than I can.”

Inside, one of the managers absconded with Flip and left Brayden with yet another intern, Sam, a black man in his early twenties. “His Highness said you wanted a tour?” He handed Brayden a hard hat. “Let’s go see the ugly part first.”

They drove through the massive industrial building in an electric golf cart, sticking to pathways marked out on the concrete floor in yellow paint. Finally they came to the end of the factory, where a two-story window looked out on a field of dirt.

Brayden said, “Oh.”

“This is what a diamond mine used to look like.” Sam pointed to an eight-foot poster on the adjacent wall.

An enormous dirt snail was scrawled into the bleak and desolate landscape.

“For twenty years we have worked with the crown to restore the wildlife to this area. Slowly we can see our efforts have effect.”

It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but Brayden thought he could see some young trees and scrub brush dotting the field. Now that he was looking for it, he could see a few birds overhead too. “Wow.”

Sam clapped his shoulder. “Come. I’ll show you the labs.”

As they toured, Sam explained the principles of “synthetic” diamonds—which had all the same properties as regular diamonds, but without the environmental or social impact.

Heat chambers containing raw materials and “seed crystals”—shavings from other diamonds or simply pure carbon—served as incubators.

“And this is the first diamond ever grown in the lab.” Sam gestured to a small display case that seemed to have pride of place.

Brayden peered in. The diamond was a light, clear blue, cut princess style. A fissure marred the middle of the stone, though, presumably destroying its value. “What happened?”

Sam shrugged. “Trial and error. Diamonds have to be perfect, though, or close to. Something with a flaw this big is essentially worthless. But creating it in the first place was still a big deal, and we’re proud of it.”

They both looked up as Flip came through a door across the way, led by the manager of the facility, who spotted them and smiled. “Admiring our first failure?”

Brayden looked back at the diamond. “I like it. It feels like a metaphor, though. Things aren’t worthless just because they’re not perfect.”

Flip met eyes with Brayden, and then they both looked away. Brayden felt like perhaps he shouldn’t have said that out loud, at least not with witnesses, though he couldn’t have put his finger on why.

And yet somehow they met eyes again afterward, and Flip smiled as he said, “I appreciate your outlook, Brayden. Well put.”

Brayden flushed at the unexpected praise—with an audience, to boot. He couldn’t think of anything to say, but fortunately he didn’t have to, as the operations manager motioned Flip to continue through the lab.

“We should be finished in a half an hour or so,” Flip said on his way out. “I’ll meet you in the lobby?”

Brayden nodded. “Okay. I trust Sam can get me there.”

“Of course.”

Flip and the manager left, but another scientist entered—a woman nearly as pale as her lab coat, with braided pigtails and goggles on the top of her head.

Sam waved her over. “Julia. Come over here.” He said something in Polish a little too fast for Brayden to catch.

Julia turned to Brayden. “You want to plant a diamond?”

It was the coolest tour ever.

Brayden’s enthusiasm for the diamond factory made it very easy to invite him along for the rest of Flip’s commitments for the week.

“What’s on today’s agenda?” he asked Wednesday morning over their usual eggs, yogurt, and fruit.

“Barracks visit.” Flip looked up from his coffee in time to enjoy Brayden’s double-take.

“Really?”

“Like a lot of other European countries, Lyngria has mandatory military service. Well, you can choose civil service instead. I wasn’t allowed to join the military.”

“Too gay?” Brayden asked, head cocked.

“No, Mom sorted that before it became an issue. But they’re shockingly unwilling to let you serve in the military if you’re the first in line to the throne, especially if you don’t have any younger siblings. Even in peacetime.”

Brayden nodded and stirred his yogurt. “Makes sense. So you did civil service. Let me guess, in an embassy?”

Flip acknowledged this with a tilt of his head. “It seemed prudent.”

“Cool. So mandatory military service. Explain that to a liberal Canadian?”

He put his fork down and took a moment to gather his thoughts. “We’re a small country. And you may have noticed how large and close Russia is.”

“Fair.” Brayden traded yogurt for coffee. “How do the citizens find it?”

“Well, they’re paid. And they learn skills that are generally applicable outside the service. They have the option to defer until after university if that’s the course they want to take, or if they’re an elite-level athlete or what have you.”

At that Brayden sat back in his chair, his gaze calculating. “So job security and job training during what can be a really difficult transition time for young people. All right, that doesn’t sound draconian.”

Flip gave him a wry look. “I do my best.”

Unlike the mine, the next official visit involved PR, which meant they had a camera crew trailing them as they toured the facility.

At first Brayden seemed distracted—he kept turning and watching them watch him, rather than paying attention to the tour.

Flip supposed it would be a bit strange to someone who wasn’t used to it.

He elbowed Brayden as discreetly as he could. “Stop looking at the cameras.”

“Easy for you to say, Mr. My Dad Was a Movie Star Prince.” Brayden huffed, but he looked up at Flip instead of at the film crew, at least. “Some of us didn’t grow up under this much scrutiny. What if I get a wedgie?”

For a moment Flip had nothing to say. Then, “You do realize I have veto power over the footage released?”

That knocked the wind out of Brayden’s sails. “Oh thank God.” Then he glanced at Flip out of the corners of his eyes, coquettish and sly. “So hey. Want to really stick it to the paparazzi?”

Flip did, but he wasn’t supposed to admit it out loud. “What did you have in mind?”

“Just follow my lead,” Brayden said, and he slipped his hand into Flip’s and laced their fingers together.

It turned out Brayden didn’t care much for the shooting range—he flinched whenever someone fired and claimed it was too loud even with hearing protection—but his eyes lit up when they toured the obstacle course.

Flip didn’t even feel a little bit guilty about asking the CO if Brayden could borrow some workout gear to compete against someone in basic training.

The young woman—her shirt said MOREAU on the back—beat him handily, but she grinned widely and shook his hand when he made it to the end.

“He doesn’t seem to mind being beaten by a woman,” the CO commented approvingly.

Flip allowed himself a controlled smile. “Well, he’s been playing board games with Princess Clara all week. He’s used to it by now.”

The film crew was getting the footage of their lives.

That night when he climbed into bed, he was surprised to find his sheets already warm. Brayden must have been watching for the expression of surprise on his face, because he turned onto his side and smiled. “You fidget when your feet are cold, did you know that?”

Flip did know that. It had driven Adrian crazy. Flip hated it too, since he couldn’t sleep with cold toes. He fished around at the foot of the bed and pulled out a Magic Bag that Brayden must have found in one of the cupboards and stuck in the microwave. “Your doing, I presume?

“Just riffing on an old classic.” Brayden grinned. “I mean, I don’t think they put coal warmers in people’s beds anymore. Even if they’re princes.”

In truth, Flip used to do this himself, but he’d been spending so much time in Toronto he’d forgotten he had it. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Friday Flip visited the children’s hospital.

“You don’t have to come,” he told Brayden. “This visit… I do it because I love the children and it does cheer them, but it isn’t fun or easy. I don’t expect you to come.”

“I’ve come with you everywhere this week,” Brayden pointed out. “All of a sudden I’m going to bail because it’s not fun? What kind of message does that send to kids? I’ll end up in the gossip blogs as a callous, heartless gold digger.”

Flip rolled his eyes. “Since when do you care what the gossip is?” Other than the bit where he insisted on sappy expressions and hand-holding.

“All right, that’s fair. But I’m still not backing out on the kids. I like kids.”

That was what Flip was afraid of. He just hoped Brayden and his big, soft heart came through the day intact.

Their visitor coordinator showed them how to scrub in for the general wards first—for this part of the visit they could wear their own clothes.

Brayden followed directions assiduously, but he was largely silent while Elin went through a list of dos and don’ts.

He almost seemed to be bracing himself for something.

At least this time he paid no mind to the film crew.

Flip wanted to put a hand on his back for comfort, but he’d been listening to Elin’s directions too, and he was trying not to touch things if he didn’t have to.