Leopold has improved since the last time we truly fought—years and years ago now. He’s had a lot of practice in his adult life, and I, I’m discovering, have not had quite enough.

He gets in a couple of swipes at my face before I can hit him in the stomach. One moment he’s on top of me, the next I seem to have the upper hand—but either way, the whole world has become a blur. The ballroom has faded away. In the dim reaches of my mind I’m aware that this is inappropriate, that there will be consequences. But I can’t bring myself to care. My brother was right—I needed to hit him. To get this out.

And clearly, he needed to hit me, too.

I’m not sure how long we’re wrestling before someone tries to pull us apart. I’m suddenly aware of hands on my shoulders, of someone pulling me away from Leopold.

“Stop this nonsense at once,” comes my father’s voice, low and calm.

Immediately, both Leopold and I freeze. My father is a terrifying man when he yells. But he’s even more terrifying when he speaks like this—controlled and quiet. That’s when you know he’s truly upset.

I pull myself off of Leopold. My knuckles are sore, and there are chocolate pastries smashed against my Christmas suit. My brother looks little better.

We both scramble to our feet, facing our father. Around us, there’s a loose circle of onlookers, watching this humiliating scene play out.

We really should have taken this outside, I think, shame washing over me. Half the country has just watched me behave like an unruly child. Me, their future king. I’ve never been so ashamed in all my life.

My father’s eyes are steely and cold as he stares at us. His face is perfectly controlled, but I can tell by the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that he’s barely concealing his rage. This sort of behavior is unacceptable in private, but in front of our citizens, it’s even worse. It’s unforgivable.

I know I should say something—apologize, at the very least. Make some excuse for my behavior. Lie, perhaps, and pretend that this was some planned holiday theater about overcoming conflicts or something. But I can’t seem to find the words. I’m numb. All the rage and restlessness from before has drained out of me, and with it, apparently, all my power of thought and speech.

My father pulls his death stare away from Leopold and me and turns to the crowd beyond. Apparently he’s realized the same thing—that something must be said. And that he, as king, should probably be the one to say it. The crowd around us has gone deathly silent. I swear they’re all holding their breath, waiting.

But before anyone can utter a word, someone pushes through the crowd, forcing themselves out in front. It’s a servant. He stands in the open space between the crowd and my father, panting for breath like he’s been running.

“Your Majesty,” he says with a quick bow. “Your Highnesses. Forgive the intrusion, but I thought you’d like to know that Her Royal Highness Princess Victoria has gone into labor.”

Instantly a murmur ripples through the crowd. I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach again.

Victoria is having the baby. Part of me understands, but the rest of me is having trouble grasping this. I’m still unable to speak or move.

“Your Highness,” the servant says to me, “I can take you to her.”

I’m paralyzed. Victoria is having the baby, and I was over here fighting with my brother. I didn’t think the shame could get any worse, but it does, threatening to choke me. I should have been there with her. I should have been there…

A hand grips me by the upper arm. Leopold.

“Come on, Brother,” he says lightly. “The gig is up.” He looks almost like his normal self, and there’s a grin on his face as he turns to the crowd.

“Forgive our little scene,” he says to the people watching. “You see, we wanted to make sure Victoria could sneak out of here without raising too much alarm. So Andrew came up with the brilliant idea to cause a distraction. Forgive us for the disruption—but you can’t say we didn’t go for it, can you? I think we’d have made some fine actors in another life.”

Laughter rises from the crowd, and the tension immediately eases. I can’t believe it—people actually seem to be accepting my brother’s explanation.

“Of course,” Leopold adds, raising his voice to be heard above the crowd, “now that Victoria is safely away, my brother should probably go to her side. If you’ll excuse us.”

The crowd parts. Leopold’s hand is still on my arm, and he guides me toward the door. Our father follows.

“That was not an act,” Father says as soon as we’re safely in one of the quiet corridors beyond the ballroom.

“No, but it looks like our citizens are willing to cut us a little slack,” my brother replies. “Besides, now they have something far more exciting to discuss—the impending birth of their new little prince or princess.” He looks at me. “And you have more important things to do than to stand here. Come on, let’s get you to her.”

My brother leads me down the corridor, and I follow, still numb with shock.

Victoria is having the baby.

I still can’t quite believe it. I’ve been counting down to this day for months, anxiously awaiting it, but it doesn’t seem to be real.

Leopold has to almost drag me along. My feet don’t seem to want to cooperate.

We’re just outside the physicians’ quarters when he stops and turns to me.

“I know exactly how you’re feeling,” he says. “It’s overwhelming, and you feel unprepared, and it’s suddenly hit you that everything is about to change.” He pats me on the shoulder. “But you can freak out later. Right now, you need to be there for her.”

He’s right, of course. When did Leopold become the wise one?

I turn my head, but our father has disappeared somewhere. It’s just my brother and me.

And then, from the other side of the door, I hear something—Victoria. And she sounds like she’s in pain.

Immediately, everything seems to snap back into focus. My wife needs me.

I start toward the door, then turn back to my brother.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

He grins. “Of course. That’s what brothers are for.” He rubs his jaw. “We need to work on your right hook, though. Just saying.”

It’s funny, but somehow all of the tension between us seems to have disappeared. It’s like we’re our old, normal selves again—we might not always get along, but there’s a certain understanding and respect, a bond that can never be broken. Maybe all we needed was to throw a few punches, or maybe we’ve both just realized what is truly important here.

I smile. “We’ll do that.”

And I have every intention of holding him to it—times like this make me wonder what I’d ever do without my family at my side.

Right now, though, I have something important to do. My child is about to be born. And I’m about to become the head of my own small family.