‘Not at all. But it’s not a “normal guy” thing.’
‘I only became King two weeks ago,’ he pointed out.
‘But you were raised to be King, weren’t you?’
He was raised to be King, yes. Raised by a man who hated him, raised by a man who hired a succession of nannies to do the actual caregiving—though he used that term loosely. The only prerequisite for his nannies’ hiring, from what Octavio could tell, was that they be ice-cold, and cruel to boot.
He dipped his head forward.
‘And when you walk out of this hospital, you’ll return to the palace, where everyone will refer to you as “Your Majesty”?’
‘And I will act as though I am not feeling this,’ he said, pressing to his chest, indicating his grief. ‘Because that is what is expected of me there.’
‘But here, with me, you can be honest,’ she murmured, eyes wide, as if articulating that thought gave it more power.
‘Yes.’
‘Okay.’ She hesitated. ‘Octavio.’
His name on her lips was different; she imbued the syllables with the softness that was inherent to her, taking a name that was, by its nature and design, a symbol of strength and making it somehow more human. Just as he wished to be.
But it was more than just a softening of his name, it was the forging of a connection. She addressed him like a man and he felt it—not normal, exactly, but powerfully aware of something between them that was transcending his rank, his title, even his grief. Or perhaps it was because of his grief? Perhaps in such moments, where awareness of death was at a peak, people were wired to seek expressions of life. He wanted to feel alive, and there was something about Phoebe that caused his blood to hum.
‘Tell me about your uncle,’ she invited, pouring a Scotch and sliding it across to him. He ignored the drink.
He thought of Rodrigo and his insides tightened uncomfortably. ‘Before last week, I had not seen him in a long time.’
‘He was exiled?’ she murmured, and he was surprised. The history was well-known—though legitimacy had been given to Mauricio’s actions, few understood that it was sheer self-interest that had governed his choices.
‘Shortly after my parents died, yes.’
Her expression softened. ‘Were you close?’
Memories blurred at the edges of his mind. Rodrigo catching him in his arms and tossing him into the air, his eyes crinkling with laughter, the way he played piano and sang along and played cards until far too late. The sense of safety and security he had, in those days, taken for granted—and never known again since. ‘At one time, yes.’ His voice was gruff. He cleared his throat. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘Does that matter?’
His eyes met hers, burned through them. ‘No.’
‘How come you didn’t see him, after he was exiled?’
‘Until I was eighteen, I had very little autonomy. And after that, I didn’t have the resources required to find him.’
‘He disappeared?’
‘He took the exile hard, apparently. I have learned a lot since my coronation. His life was far from a bed of roses.’
‘In what way?’ she asked, coming around from the kitchen and standing close to him. So close he caught a hint of her perfume again, and this time when his gut rolled, he understood the feeling. Desire. Physical need. While he was an expert at maintaining relationships that were emotionally contained, he was still a red-blooded man with physical needs, and he indulged those needs as and when required.
‘When he was exiled, he was cut off from his assets as well. He had some cash, but it wasn’t enough to start a new life. He scraped by, but it was difficult for him.’
‘And then he got sick?’
‘He had AIDS,’ Octavio murmured. ‘And didn’t realise. Medication now is so effective, he could have been treated, he could have lived a long life, but he didn’t know and he didn’t get help. So by the time I became King and launched a search for him, the disease had progressed and nothing could be done.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I still don’t understand why he was exiled?’
Octavio’s lips curled into a derisive smirk. ‘That would require an explanation into the darker side of human nature and I’m not sure either of us want to go there tonight.’
