Page 102 of Royal Rising

“Let’s just figure this out between us first,” Bo says in his low voice.

“What’re your thoughts?”

“Why are you asking?” I counter.

Dad heaves a breath. “Your uncle brought this up before he left. You know he was almost king,” he says to Bo.

Bo nods. “I know there was talk when you were in the band. But it was your position. There was no almost with that.”

Laandia is not a normal monarchy. The country wasn’t taken by force, and as far as I know, we’re the only monarchy who was given their throne rather than won it and proclaimed themselves king or queen.

If there are others, Bo would know.

“Some think differently. You know my father, Euan, was the second son of Leif, the first king of Laandia. His brother Bronn wanted nothing to do with being the king. He was twenty-five when he abdicated and left for Northern Canada. No idea what happened to him. He could be frozen solid in a block of ice for all I know.”

“He died,” Bo speaks up. “He ended up in Yellowknife for a time. Had a wife, a couple of kids. They’re in Salmon Arm, British Columbia.”

“Huh.”

“I looked for him,” Bo admits. “He wasn’t that hard to track.”

“I’m glad you did that. I’ve always wondered. These kids—”

“Probably have no idea their father should have been the king of Laandia,” I say drily. And we should keep it like that because I can’t imagine what it would be like if someone waltzed into my life to tell me I had a spot in the line of succession. Or that, in another reality, would have been king.

It was bad enough knowing all my life where my future lay. I had enough time to process.

But have I really? It seems to me that I’ve argued against the fact more than I’ve processed.

“I don’t think he should have been king.” Dad gives his head a firm shake. “From what I’ve heard, Bronn was brave but had a temper.”

“Kings shouldn’t have a temper?” I glance at Bo, who smiles and drops his head. “That rules both of us out then.”

“Tempers are a sign of passion, but you need to learn to think before you act, which both of you are capable of. Bronn was not.No matter now, but I am glad he didn’t end up frozen in an ice burg.”

“He might be,” Bo says. “I never found out how he died.”

Dad grunts. “See what you can find out, will you? So we’re back to the king of Laandia who wasn’t supposed to be king. Second sons don’t normally become king.”

“King George of England,” Bo supplies. “Henry the VIII, just to name two.”

“I keep forgetting you’re the brain of the family,” Dad says admiringly.

“Just in history.”

I’ve never been good at academics. The best part of school for me was gym class.

I remember Dante pointing out my low grades to Mathias once as an example of what not to do. But this time, instead of the surge of anger any of those memories bring about, I let it float away because this isn’t the time to think about reasons why I shouldn’t be king.

“Do you think Bo should be king?” I blurt out.

“No.” Bo’s quick response is definite.

“Bo would make a fine king, as would you. But neither of you seem very inclined.”

“Is this when you give the Dune speech again?”

“No, but I hope my little health scare will give you some clarity. And my conversation with your uncle could give you an option. My father called me back from touring to ask if I could see myself being the king. I said yes, because I didn’t want to disappoint him, and yes, the thought of myself with a crown was enjoyable. But when push came to shove, and my father had a heart attack thatended his life, I changed my mind. It might have been grief or fear, but just before I was crowned king, I ran.”

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