“Damn mate, you’re bloody crazy!”

“We both are.” I grinned as I gathered my parachute, now deployed from my most recent dive. My heart was still pounding from the adrenaline surging through my body. I loved the way my stomach dipped as I launched myself off the cliff into oblivion, the blood roaring in my ears all the way down. There was nothing else like it, except maybe getting one’s leg over. Now that could make my pulse pound.

Jeremy stood next to me, and I turned to see him shaking his head, a broad smile on his ruddy face. We had found the thrill of jumping off or out of things together and had gone on some epic quests, looking for the best experiences around the world over the last couple of years. This time, however, we’d stayed close to home, an hour or so away from the palace and the bustling city.

He was probably the only person I knew who got me. My father didn’t understand my love for dangerous sports, nor did my brothers, Frederick and Robert; not that I expected them to.

Robert, my younger brother, much preferred being on the side-lines for activities like this, waiting in the shadows, ready to act with his medical skills if something bad happened.

Being an Army doc his thrills lay elsewhere; in a sterile surgical suite. Though out in the field I doubted they were ever that clean. But he couldn’t understand how I could risk life and limb, constantly coming back with breaks and bruises, especially when his job was to patch people up. An unnecessary risk, he would say with a slight disapproving glare. Anyone would think he was the oldest of us all, wise beyond his years. But he wasn’t. That particular job lay with Frederick.

My twin brother. Rick was the eldest… but not by much. Born thirteen minutes before me. Unlucky for some. And in a way it was true. I let him win that particular race down the birthing canal. Thank God I did, or I wouldn’t have the freedom or the relatively normal life I led now.

Better him than me, I told myself.

Of course, I made up for being born second all through our childhood; wanting to be the first to try everything. It was all a competition, a race to be the one to experience something for the first time. Like I was always trying to catch up somehow.

Frederick was a good sport about my persistence to be ahead of him, though. Nothing could truly ruffle his calm and collected feathers, regal in every sense of the word. Born for it, you could say. I mean, of course there was our brotherly rivalry, but for the most part Rick seemed not to care that I bested him or got there before him. Sometimes it felt like it was his way of making it up to me, apologising to me for him being the one that would always end up coming first on the world stage… The one destined to rule. Either that or it was guilt.

As for my sisters—bah. I loved them both dearly, but they wouldn’t even know the difference between cave diving and skydiving. Let’s just say my world of dirty fingernails, roughed up calloused hands, and in your face danger and heart-pounding excitement wasn’t exactly in their wheelhouse. Content to be good little princesses, though they both had a stubborn streak. Victoria, the baby of the family, more so.

But participating in thrills like this was going to keep me happy, give me some worthwhile memories to look back on in my old age.

If I even reached old age.

I looked up at the rocky cliff we’d just jumped from and felt the warm glow of the sun on my face. Hell, I could die happily diving off of that son of a bitch. Well, maybe one a little higher, a little rockier. One with dangerous side winds perhaps. It had been conquered; now onto the next…

Onwards and upwards.

My phone vibrated in my cargo pants pocket and I ignored it, knowing I wasn’t due anywhere anytime soon. No doubt the call was from my father or one of his many assistants, wanting to know where the hell I was, especially since I’d given my personal officer the slip. That was a well-worn theme these days between my father and I, not that we had ever gotten along very well to begin with.

Frederick was the perfect one, the official heir to the throne. What a difference thirteen minutes makes.

Frederick had the ability to please our father with a simple smile. Me? If I looked at my father, King Henry James of House Rothchester, all I would receive would be a scowl and a swift dismissal. We’ve never gotten on, chalk and cheese—though Mum said the opposite, that we were too alike—and I didn’t see how that was going to change anytime soon.

It might’ve had something to do with my slight resentment that bubbled to the surface every so often. My father would bellow that I should be grateful, but I hated the way I was expected—no, required—to be a certain way just because I was born into royalty. I had rebelled since I was old enough to know better. At least I was allowed a sliver of freedom with being the second in line, and one of the spares.

“Same time tomorrow?” Jeremy asked as we made our way through the rough terrain back to our cars.

Jeremy’s battered Land Rover was parked next to my glittering beauty and I couldn’t help but grin as we reached them. While I balked against the obligations of my title, I sure didn’t mind spending the pounds or accepting the gifts. The sleek silver sports car, an Audi RS7, shimmered under the dazzling sun. The drive home would be fun, going from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds. I loved that car. Jeremy Thorne on the other hand, the heir to a large international company worth billions, chose to drive a boxy Land Rover that had seen better days. He was probably the most down to earth guy I’d ever met, and yet he was one of the richest fucking bachelors in England.

“Yeah, let’s go farther west though,” I answered, opening the door and throwing the stuff onto the back seat. “We should also take a trip soon; explore, find something more challenging.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said laughing.

“Chicken?”

“Hell no. Sounds like a blast; I’m in. Just tell me where and when. I’ll have the jet fuelled and ready to fly us anywhere,” Jeremy answered.

My phone vibrated again. With a roll of my eyes, I sighed and dug a hand into my pocket and pulled the slim phone out, my tether back to my obligations. I frowned as I saw that there were numerous missed calls, over a dozen, in the last few minutes. No wonder my pocket had been buzzing something fierce. On a second glance, I noticed some of the numbers were different, but they were all official, from the royal switchboard or the family’s private lines.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Without hesitating, I redialled the last number.

“William, thank God,” my father said, his voice oddly strained, but that didn’t stop the barrage of questions that came next. “Where the hell have you been? Why were you not answering? Where are you?”

“The cliffs,” I replied as a cold sinking feeling began to churn in my gut. “What’s wrong?”

“We have been searching for you for hours! We need you back at the palace now,” he demanded, his voice catching.

“I’m almost done here, I won’t be—”

“Will, right now! Get here right now! That’s an order!”

I was taken aback by his forceful tone for only a second. It had been a long while since Father had seen the need to shout at me. Glaring was more his style. But regardless, I bristled with defiance. An order? What was this, the dark ages? I was about to tell him I’d come back when I was good and ready when his voice softened, and snagged upon the words he tried to speak like fabric catching on a burr. He sounded like he was choking on each syllable.

“There’s been an accident.”

“An accident?” I asked, my mind reeling. Confusion set in. I was the one that got into accidents, and all my limbs were accounted for today.

“William, Frederick’s been in an accident,” my father continued. His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, trailing off intermittently. “Bloody hell, I can’t believe this… I didn’t want to tell you like this, over the phone. Your brother is dead. Frederick is dead.”

I felt the blood rush to my head and my insides twist into an excruciating knot as my father’s words washed over me.

“W-what?” I forced out, staggering to lean against the car, hoping I’d heard him wrong. Hoping that this was some cruel joke.

“What’s wrong?” Jeremy asked, his expression full of concern. I held up my hand and forced myself to breathe through my nose. Inhale, count to three. Exhale, count to three. I had to calm the fuck down. I had heard him wrong, that was all.

“Your brother is dead,” my father said flatly as if he himself was rationally trying to make sense of the words he’d just spoke. “Come home, William, please.”

The call ended and a rush of white noise, a mournful tone droned in my ear, obliterating all thoughts. The phone slipped from my grasp as I was unable to comprehend what I’d just learned.

Rick couldn’t be dead. He was heading to some foreign country—I couldn’t remember where, the details evaded me, but east somewhere—for an official visit on behalf of the royal family. I talked to him just yesterday. Well, talked was maybe not quite accurate. It was more like arguing since I told him at the last minute I wasn’t going to accompany him on his trip.

“Dammit, Will, the arrangements have already been made,” Frederick said as he grabbed his toiletries out of the bathroom, stalking back into the bedroom with a frown on his face.

I shrugged. “I’m sure they can be just as quickly unmade. Besides, it’s just one insignificant trip. No one will miss me. I have better things to do with my time.”

“It’s not insignificant!” he shouted, his temper getting the better of him.

“Jeez, what is with you? Ever since this tour has been put on the books you’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass. Come to mention it, you’ve been like this since our birthday. You need to relax. Take a page out of my book…”

Frederick glared at me as if he could persuade me with the power of his stare. But that same tactic never worked for the King of England, so it certainly wasn’t going to work for his heir, my brother. I glared right back. Frederick sighed, the fire going out of his eyes.

“For once, please, just do this. For me? I promise it’ll be worth it.”

I could feel myself soften to his pleas. I knew I would do anything for my twin. Even some boring diplomatic tour. Who knows, maybe it would be fun? A girl in every port, perhaps?

But then he ruined it, and my defences went back up.

“At some point in your life you have got to start taking some responsibility and do what you are told.”

I grinned and shook my head, enjoying the fact that my brother was so worked up over this. “Get real, Rick. You know this title is meant for you someday, not a loser like me. Responsibility is not in my vocabulary.”

He gave me a look. “You are as much an heir as I am. Just because I am older by a fraction doesn’t mean you can avoid the throne. Last chance, come with me?”

“The spare,” I reminded him, ignoring his final request as he placed a leather bag with the royal crest stamped onto it into his suitcase. My brother was a stickler for perfection and he trusted no one to pack his bags but him. Not even his valet, Patrick, who was left to twiddle his thumbs instead. I teased Frederick relentlessly for it.

“That’s me remember? I’m better off being your valet, not that I can fold for shit.”

Frederick chuckled then. “Don’t say that around Patrick. Mind, if you’re my valet what does that make Robert? My driver?”

“And you shouldn’t let Rob hear you say that,” I said with a laugh, but the laughter soon died away as Frederick’s smile drained from his face and his voice turned sombre.

“I may be Father’s successor, but I will always need my twin at my side.”

Now those words seemed to mean so much more. Frederick was dead. I still couldn’t fucking believe it and wouldn’t until I saw him with my own two eyes.

“I gotta go,” I said, struggling to keep the emotion out of my voice, and didn’t give Jeremy the chance to interrupt or get in my way. On shaky legs I climbed in the car and spun out of the gravel parking area. Stones clattered against the paint the faster I drove. I wanted to drive the thing off the damn cliff as I sped toward town, hoping against all hope that not one bit of the news were true.

Maybe it was some kind of hoax, something to damage the royal family. Or Rick had gotten smart and faked his own death, realising finally that I’d been right all along that being part of this regal world was insanity. But that wasn’t Frederick’s style. He thrived on the pressure, the obligations. Had done so ever since he was old enough to understand his responsibilities and duties. He was made to rule.

Tears streamed down my face. I was clutching at straws. Trying to come up with anything to make it not true. Anything but my brother being dead.

With traffic it took me about seventy long minutes to arrive at the palace. Security, however, were on the ball, no doubt expecting me, and they let me through the gate as fast as humanly possible.

In my haste I managed to miscalculate the entry and the left wing-mirror hit the outermost part of the metal gate and flew off. A sign of things to come, I thought in hindsight, looking in the remaining mirror. I didn’t stop to reclaim it and sped closer to the grand entrance.

Pulling the handbrake on I skidded to a stop. More gravel etched a name for itself in the paintwork. The little sports car would need a new coat and some detailing after what I’d just put her through but I couldn’t care less; I had bigger issues to worry about. I left the damn thing idling, ignoring the calls of the security team who would now have to move it. Screw them all. I wanted to find out the real truth about Frederick before I went fucking insane.

The normal busy halls of the palace were deserted as I stalked through, heading towards the family quarters on the west wing. There were more guards than I cared to count, all of who allowed me entrance without question.

Throwing open the door to the large living area, I was greeted by a heart-breaking, dismal sight.

“William.” My father strode toward me, his eyes red-rimmed from crying. I felt the emotion start to climb in my throat as our eyes locked, and forced it back down as I turned away, scanning the room.

My mother was perched on the sofa, a handkerchief clutched in her hand as she pressed it up to her mouth, failing to stifle her tearful moans. Her own parents, my grandparents, sat rigid in the chairs opposite, looking older than I remembered. Grey, shell-shocked statues.

I almost didn’t see her, but sitting in the shadows in the corner was Charlotte, one of my sisters. She had her head in her hands, her long brown curls tumbled around her, almost touching the floor.

Victoria, my other sister, the baby of the family, was nowhere to be seen. The only other person not present was Robert. But that wasn’t a surprise; he wasn’t due home for a few months. Secretly on tour in some back-end country doing what good he could.

The grief was almost palpable. You could slice it up and serve it during a morbid afternoon tea if you were that way inclined. And I knew right then that this was a fucking nightmare. Not a hoax.

“What happened? Tell me everything,” I said roughly when no one else spoke. The words came out harsh, as if I’d swallowed a beach worth of sand only moments ago, rubbing my throat and tongue raw.

“The plane, his plane… There was a plane crash,” my father said, swallowing hard.

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was he attacked, shot upon? Someone give me answers!” Was this a declaration of war?

“I don’t know,” my father answered again, his blue eyes clouding over. Almost as if he were giving up.

“What the hell do you know? For Christ’s sake, you’re the king!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the cavernous space, and my father took a step back. He faltered slightly as if he were about to take a tumble. I reached for him before he went down. With my hand clasped around his arm, I led him to the nearest chair. The king sat heavily in it.

“Tell me what you do know,” I said, crouching at his feet. I held his hand and gave it a soft but urgent squeeze. I needed answers.

“They think his plane went down in the early hours. This morning. Their time… our time, I’m not sure. It never arrived. They lost the signal, but the navy found…” he swallowed and I waited for him to gather his strength. “They got there quick, but it was too late. The wreckage, the fuselage… was in pieces. No survivors.”

I closed my eyes briefly, the word ‘wreckage’ acting as an impeccably sharp knife as it sunk deep into my chest.

“But Frederick? Have they found him… have they found his body?”

My father shook his head, extricated his hand from mine, and rubbed it over his face. “What part of no survivors don’t you understand, William?”

“But—”

“They’re searching. The British fleet, the Americans, the Chinese. They’re all searching. They’ve been searching for hours. He couldn’t have survived in those waters.”

“But—”

“But nothing. He’s gone.”

His words were a slap to my face. No longer crouched, I took a step back from him and helplessly stared at the wall. Thick wallpaper, a dark damask pattern, blurred before my eyes. Frederick couldn’t be gone. We’d always been together. Twins, brothers, best friends. A world in which he wasn’t a part of was unthinkable. Grotesque. Repulsive.

He couldn’t be gone, I thought again, as I felt a quiver of guilt shake my body. I should’ve been with him.

“He’s not gone,” I said aloud. Was I deluding myself? Maybe. But surely I would’ve felt something? A jolt, a departure of some sort? His essence slipping away. We’d always been able to finish each other’s sentences and we’d always attributed it to being twins, being so connected. But where was that connection now?

“There will need to be a formal announcement made to the nation… and arrangements to be made, of course.”

My father’s words, cold and full of surrender shook me out of my reverie. He’d actually given up. He’d skipped the first four stages of grief and made a beeline right to the fifth. Acceptance.

“He’s not even cold yet… we don’t even know for sure. We need confirmation. We don’t even have a body and you are making fucking arrangements?” I blurted out, unable to contain my anger. He was talking about my brother, my twin—his first born son, for fuck’s sake—not some bloke off the street!

“We have a duty…”

“Fuck duty!”

I needed time…

Time to process this. Time to scream and yell and cry. I would not be forced to dance to their tune as we all would be expected to. This was my brother, the guy who always had my fucking back no matter what. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to die so young. Hell, I should be dead, not him.

“William,” Prince Albert, my maternal grandfather, said sternly. His voice was strong despite his aging years and travelled clearly across the expanse. He hadn’t moved; he was still in the chair across from my distraught mother. His eyes narrowed and his grey whiskers twitched as his mouth moved. “You are now first in line. Start acting like it.”

“I don’t fucking care,” I shot back, wanting to hit something hard with my fists, the grief starting to suffocate me. My grandfather tutted and went back to impersonating a gargoyle.

My father, the King of England, finally rose out of his chair, his face red with anger. “This is your life now, William, and you have to deal with it. Frederick is gone and by God you will be his replacement whether you like it or not.

My father continued on, looking at me from under his thick eyebrows, “This is a tragedy but you have a duty, we both do. A duty to this family, to this nation! Don’t you forget about that. We have let you carry on doing what you please for far too long, but I will not abide your behaviour any longer. Not now.”

My gaze narrowed, feeling cold and dead inside. I didn’t want this. I never wanted to be in this position.

“I am not Frederick. I never will be.”

“That is certainly the truth!” he shot back before turning towards his chair.

“Henry!” my mother gasped, then she looked at me for the first time since I’d entered the room. She quickly averted her gaze again, dissolving into another fit of tears. I wasn’t the son she hoped to see. I was a poor copy of her perfect Frederick.

“Fuck you,” I said to my father in a soft, resigned voice. King of England or not, he was still an asshole. I knew I wasn’t going to ever live up to his or anyone else’s expectations. I was not Frederick. They would all prefer it if it had been me instead of him, I thought.

“Stop it! Just stop it!” Charlotte screamed from the corner. “We shouldn’t be fighting. Not at a time like this. Families come together when loved ones…” Tears flooded her eyes and her lip trembled. “They’re not supposed to tear each other apart!”

“Charlotte, Lottie, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—” I said as I took a cautious step in her direction. I hated to see either of my sisters upset. And seeing her like that shattered my heart more than I thought possible. But she shook her head, tired curls bouncing around her slim shoulders. The dam broke for what I could only imagine the thousandth time that day as more tears washed over her cheeks.

Before I could get to her she bolted from the room, and the slap of her soles echoed down the hallway beyond. Without thinking I left in her wake, leaving the cold, mournful, room behind.

The ever present thought of my brother sent a spiral of pain surging into my chest, and forced me to stumble towards the edge of the hallway so I could lean up against the wall for support.

Rick was really gone.

I was never going to see my brother again, hear his chuckle or see that narrow stare he loved to throw my way when I made some dumb joke.

“Damn you,” I whispered bitterly. He had gone out the way I would have hoped to, never seeing death coming, oblivious to the danger.

Now he’d left me with a holy hot mess, a mess I’d never anticipated being in, ever. A part of me wanted to leave the palace and just drive till I ran out of road, try to forget that Frederick was dead and that I was now expected to be someone I never intended on being.

The other part wished I’d been on the plane with him.