Vasili wanted to laugh, but there wasn’t an ounce of humour within him. All there was were jumbled thoughts, and at the forefront of all of that was this blasted letter.
He could not fathom why his father would have left it to him for this moment. Throughout his entire life neither his father nor his mother had had any time for him at all. He was the spare. His existence merely a tick-box exercise. Why would they care about him when Leander has been the son who would one day lead the nation. They were King and Queen after all. Their time had been much too precious to be spent frivolously.
So what could the great Athanasios Leos have to say to him now? If he couldn’t even invest the barest hint of time in his youngest son when he’d needed him, what could he say now when he didn’t? Had he not been the one who had warned Vasili not to waste Leander’s time as a child? And yet here he was being asked to rescue the very institution for which he had never been good enough.
In fact, the only person who had been there for him as he’d grown up had been his nanny. The palace had employed several royal nannies, but only one had ever tended to him. She had raised him. Had given him the support and love he had missed so badly from his parents. She had been the only person he’d known he could count on, but when he had turned fifteen she had been let go, and that was when he’d known without a shadow of a doubt that whatever he wanted or cared for meant little to the crown.
So he had swallowed down his grief and decided that the crown meant nothing to him either. Resentment and rebellion had been born bright in him. He didn’t care about the throne. He didn’t care about being a prince. If he was of so little value, then all his family stood for held little value for him. And so he’d become the ‘Playboy Prince’, with no interest in ruling. It had seemed to be what aggravated his parents the most, so Vasili had freely indulged himself in his hedonistic lifestyle.
Rebellion had suited him well. Especially when all his parents had focused on was the monarchy and Leander.
Vasili had understood that. He’d understood the dedication that ruling a kingdom required. He’d even understood the attention Leander received. He was meant to be King. What he hadn’t understood was why those things had made his life void.
At least none of it had affected his relationship with his brother. Vasili had often been ordered to refrain from distracting his brother, and he’d obeyed, but that hadn’t stopped Leander from sneaking into Vasili’s room at night. From the time he was little they would share pilfered treats from the kitchens, until they’d grown older, when they had shared a drink.
While they hadn’t been able to be as close as siblings ought to be, or even really friends, Vasili had still looked up to his brother. Admired him even in adulthood. And now he was gone. Without a warning or a goodbye. He would never see Leander again. His brother was dead and what was he left with? An advisor he could barely tolerate and a kingdom that would be disappointed.
Vasili closed his eyes for a breath, the reality of the situation crashing upon him. With his mother having long since passed, and having buried his father only a year ago, now losing Leander meant he was alone. Completely alone.
This palace, grand and ostentatious, with its Rococo architecture, was the jewel of Seidon—Thalonia’s popular capital—and had been home to generations of his family and a battalion of staff, and never once had it felt quite so empty.
Of course Vasili had friends. An entire network of them. People who loved to party as much as him. Who were after a good time. And not a single one of them could he call now. Not one could he lean on or go to for support. He couldn’t think of what he would say in any case. Love and support were alien concepts to him, having never had the privilege of experiencing it for himself. So he would have to deal with this, with his immense grief, as he dealt with everything else in his life. Alone.
‘Your Majesty,’ Andreas said more forcefully. If he was at all aware of Vasili’s spiralling thoughts he didn’t show it. ‘You are now King. This is something you must accept. We have to move immediately. Thalonia cannot be without its king.’
Vasili was aware of that, and yet Andreas’s constant badgering had lit the wick of his anger. He needed a moment—one moment to himself. Alone. A moment to say goodbye to his brother and steel himself for whatever was to come.
‘And, furthermore, we need to move quickly to secure the future of the crown. You need to settle on an adequate bride and you need to marry and produce heirs as soon as possible. It is imperative—’
‘Enough!’ Vasili spat angrily, pushing to his feet and silencing Andreas.
He had heard just about as much as he could take from the older man. Swiping the letter off the table, Vasili strode out of the gloomy office, slamming the door shut behind him.
His angry footsteps echoed through the marble hallways of the palace, and a swirling cloud of fury and grief consumed Vasili as he tried to put as much space between him and Andreas as possible. Because right now it would take nothing for the tether on his temper to snap entirely.
Sensing his dark mood, the palace staff kept their eyes low and gave him a wide berth as they continued with their day. Vasili wondered if they already knew Leander was dead. They had to have been informed, and yet none offered him even hollow words of sympathy.
Seeking solitude, Vasili was grateful, but wouldn’t show it.
There was only one place he could go where he would find the peace he was after. The library. The silence there would be welcome.
He pushed open the gilded door and stepped into the grandest library in all the Kingdom. It was a cavernous two-storey space, with rows upon rows of shelves, every single one packed with books of every colour and topic. Branching off the main space, with its gleaming marble floors, were passages to rooms and alcoves looking out over the palace gardens, where there were even more books. Frescoes in shades of pastel blue and pink covered the ceiling, drawing the eye up the gold-accented white walls.
There weren’t too many things Vasili was grateful to his forebears for, but this place was one. Even though he had rarely stepped into the library in the last few years, the colours in here always reminded him of the island itself. Of early mornings when the sky was painted in pink and blue with streaks of gold. When the turquoise waters were a siren’s call to all who looked upon them. White clouds in the sky and sand on the beach.
Except today he didn’t revel in all the ways he enjoyed this place. Today he just found a seat in a comfortable chair in a quiet corner and closed his eyes.
He prayed for just a little peace. His brother had died. He hadn’t been told if there was a body to recover. He hadn’t even gone back to his brother’s room to whisper a quiet goodbye. He was already being forced to move on. This entire institution was heartless. He had learned that at fifteen, but it seemed he was having to learn the lesson all over again.
Vasili was thankful that it was quiet. It was still early enough that the library was completely empty. He had no idea where the librarian was—was just happy that whoever it was had left him be.
But this was a day that was meant to test him, and what little peace he had hoped to get was shattered when the library doors were thrown open and in walked Andreas, followed by the communications secretary, Carissa.
Vasili groaned. His temper frayed further.
‘Your Majesty,’ Andreas said, dripping disapproval.
The man had served his father and brother, and was clearly unhappy that the crown would now fall to him. Vasili could see it.
