I hear Leo before I see him. I know it’s my brother, because he’s the only guy who roams around Helios singing “Libiamo ne' lieti calici (The Drinking Song)” from La Traviata. The tragic Verdi opera has always been his favorite.

Since the volume of Leo’s booming baritone is steadily increasing, he must be getting closer to the stall where I’m grooming my Arabian stallion, Antoine. The musky odor of horseflesh and the sweet, sunny fragrance of fresh-cut hay surrounds me as I stroke the dandy brush over Antoine’s flank.

If anyone should be wandering around Helios singing La Traviata, it’s me. Since the masquerade ball nearly two months ago, my attitude has mirrored a winter storm—cold, dark, and gloomy.

Sex with a stranger didn’t make me feel better. It made me feel worse. Much worse.

There’s just something so pathetic and wrong about fucking one woman while thinking about another ... while wanting a different woman. I regretted it the moment I withdrew from Bumblebee’s tight pussy, even though the sex was mind-blowing. 

The truth is, I’m disgusted by myself. And I’m even more disgusted when I wake up hard and ready to shoot my load after dreaming about what happened in the folly.

The strangest thing is, I feel as if I’ve cheated on Cassie. I know that doesn’t make any sense. It sounds crazy, even to me. 

To my relief, Cassie hasn’t visited Helios since she went to Italy with Zac. I miss seeing her, but it’s better if I don’t. Being around her is the equivalent of forcing a starving man to sit at a dinner table overflowing with food but forbidding him from sampling even one bite. 

The operatic singing abruptly ceases, and my brother appears in the opening to the stall, his bottom half hidden by the split stable door. “There you are,” he says. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Despite the warm weather, and the fact that it’s Saturday afternoon, Leo’s wearing a pale blue dress shirt. He left his necktie back at the house though, and his shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

I can see a sliver of a black belt threaded through the waistband of his light gray trousers. No doubt he’s wearing black brogues, while I’m dressed far more appropriately in a navy-blue polo shirt, khaki riding breeches, and brown leather knee boots.

Continuing to run the brush over Antoine’s sleek chestnut body, I address my brother, “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

The King of Alsania rolls his eyes at me. “I hate it when you call me that.”

“You’ve mentioned that before ... Your Majesty.” His annoyed growl makes me smile. “Your vibrato is improving. But you’re still not good enough for the stage.”

Leo hasn’t always strolled around singing Italian arias. That started when he fell in love with Tessa. She makes him so happy he literally breaks into song.

The flush creeping over his cheeks encourages me to continue with my harassment. “You should sing something from Turandot instead,” I suggest. “It’s more fitting than La Traviata.”

La Traviata is the sorrowful tale of a doomed love affair between a consumptive courtesan and a young nobleman. Turandot, on the other hand, tells the story of a regal, forbidding princess and Calef, the clever man who melts her icy heart.

Although my brother is a smart man, it takes him a moment to catch on. When he does, he barks out a laugh that startles my horse so much he dances sideways.

“Are you going to start calling me Princess Turandot now?” Leo asks.

“Perhaps.”

“I think I prefer it over Your Majesty.” He unlatches the stable door and walks into the stall. “I just talked to Minister Abidisi.”

“About?”

Leo carefully re-latches the door before turning to face me. “He wanted to reschedule the meeting.”

I stop brushing Antoine. “You mean, reschedule it again,” I point out flatly. “He’s already postponed the meeting twice.”

Abidisi is in charge of Alsania’s Department of Energy and Natural Resources, and I’d like for him to work more closely with his counterpart at the Department of Infrastructure. Alsania’s energy and water infrastructure is decaying, and we need a strategy to modernize it. That’s the whole goal of the meeting.

Leo sighs loudly. “He insisted on having the meeting next Monday.”

Looking up at the rafters, I try to rein in my temper. “I can’t do next Monday. That’s the first day of Camp Discovery.”

The summer camp program is my passion project. Run by a nonprofit organization called Science is Life, the program encourages children to explore various forms of science. I’ve anonymously donated tens of thousands of euros to fund the camp over the past several years.

My playboy antics have always masked my inner geek, so my interest in science—chemistry, in particular—isn’t widely known. But earlier this year, after talking to Cassie about her volunteer work, I decided to get more involved in Science is Life.

When the executive director heard about my interest, she offered me a seat on the board and a position on the committee that develops curriculum for the summer camp. I accepted both, and since then, I’ve committed hundreds of hours to Science is Life.

I don’t want to miss the first day of camp. But I don’t want to miss this meeting with Abidisi either.

“Damn it, Leo. I’ve been pushing for this meeting for months. Months. And now I have to choose between Abidisi and Camp Discovery.”

Leo leans back against the wooden slats that separate the stalls and crosses his ankles. “I know how important the camp is to you, Marco, so I told Abidisi that he could keep our original meeting this Wednesday or else he might find himself out on his ass.”

Shocked, I feel my mouth drop open. “You threatened to fire the Minister of Energy?”

Leo nods. “I did.” His mouth curls in disgust. “Arrogant bastard.”

I laugh, both surprised and delighted by Leo’s rare display of temper. I’m usually the one who gets fired up, while my brother is calm and controlled, no matter the provocation.

“Thanks for having my back with Abidisi,” I say.

“Of course. I want you at the meeting as much as you want to be there.”

When my father wore the crown, he didn’t expect or want me to be involved in matters of government. Leo is the exact opposite. He encourages me to attend meetings, pushes me to speak up on topics that I feel strongly about, and engages in debates with me about the future of our country.

Last week, during Leo’s quarterly address of Parliament, his speech included a word-for-word quote of something I’d said about monetary policy. I couldn’t care less that he didn’t attribute the quote to me. I was just happy that he valued and respected my thoughts on the subject enough to repeat them to our leaders.

“On a different topic...” Leo says, straightening from his slouch against the wall, “you should probably be aware, in the event that a reporter or pap approaches you...”

Tilting my head, I ask, “Aware of what?”

“Cassie’s condition.”

“Condition? What condition?” Suddenly, I’m struck with a horrifying thought. “Oh, Jesus. She’s sick?” Fear digs its claws deep into my chest, and the dandy brush slips from my numb fingers, landing with a soft thud on the dirt-packed floor. “What’s wrong with her?”

Leo shakes his head. “She’s not sick. She’s pregnant.”

My brain stalls. “Pregnant?”

“Yes. According to Tessa, the baby’s due in early February.”

“My Cassie is pregnant?” I barely register the bemused expression on Leo’s face. “She’s going to have a baby?”

“Your Cassie?” Leo says. “What do you mean, your Cassie?”

As the truth slowly seeps into my conscious, my stomach begins to churn sickly. At this very moment, a baby is growing inside Cassie—a part of her and a part of Zac Diedi.

Turning away from Leo, I lean my forehead against Antoine’s warm side and close my eyes. I knew I never had a chance with Cassie. I fucking knew it. But no matter how many times I told myself that, my heart just refused to listen ... refused to give up hope. It’s so damn stubborn. 

And now that she’s pregnant with another man’s child ... well, I have no choice. I have to accept that she’ll never be mine.

“Marco...” Leo’s hand settles on my shoulder. “What’s going on? Why are you so upset?”

I take a deep breath, get a big whiff of horse, and exhale in a rush. As I turn to face my brother, his hand falls from my shoulder to dangle by his side. 

“What am I missing here?” Leo’s tone is hesitant, unlike his usual confident delivery. “You’re not the father ... are you?”

“No.”

“Then why did—”

“Just drop it.”

Suddenly, I feel exhausted—defeated in a way I’ve never felt before. I want to go back to my room, climb into my big bed with its soft sheets and fluffy down comforter, and tumble into the blissful oblivion that sleep offers.

“Why did you say, ‘my Cassie’?” Leo persists.

Knowing he won’t relent until I answer, I meet his concerned gaze. “Because that’s how I think of her. Because I want her to be my Cassie.”

His dark eyes narrow on my face. “Please clarify that statement.”

“I’m in love with her, Leo, and I’d give anything—anything—to be the father of her baby.” I arch my eyebrows. “Is that clear enough for you?”

I know I’ve shocked the hell out of him because his mouth opens and closes like a ventriloquist’s dummy. “Are you serious? You’re in love with Cassie?”

“Yes.”

Leo is silent for a long time. Finally, he says, “Have you ever...”

I wait for him to finish his question, but it never comes. “Have I ever what?”

“Been in love before?”

“No.”

“Cassie is the first?”

“Yes.” I nod slowly, wondering where’s he going with his questions. “Please don’t insult me by suggesting that I’m not really in love with her simply because it’s a new experience.”

To my surprise, Leo laughs softly. “I would never suggest such a thing. Before Tessa, I’d never been in love either.”

I still remember that first conversation Leo and I had about Tessa, after they met in the hospital. From the way my brother talked about her, I had a hunch she’d become someone special. But even I was surprised when my emotionally detached older brother told me that he was in love with the woman who’d received his liver and that he planned to make her his queen. 

Leo clears his throat. “I had no idea you felt this way about Cassie.”

Despite my despondence over the entire shitty situation, I can’t help smiling. “You have been a little preoccupied with your new roles—king and husband.”

“And you’re sure Cassie doesn’t feel the same way about you?”

“Since she’s pregnant with another man’s baby, I think it’s safe to say she doesn’t,” I reply, my tone edged with sarcasm. “Don’t you?”

“Does she know how you feel?”

“I haven’t explicitly told her, but I haven’t exactly been subtle about showing my interest.”

“And?”

“She rebuffs me, every time.” 

Leo shakes his head as if he can’t believe what I’m telling him. “Frankly, I’m astonished. Most women fall at your feet when you smile at them.”

“I guess Cassie is the exception.” My self-deprecating laugh sounds hollow, just like the way my chest feels right now. “You know what’s really pathetic, Leo? I changed my life for her.”

“In what way?”

“I stopped screwing around.”

I mean it both figuratively and literally. Once I figured out how I felt about Cassie, I knew I needed to put my playboy days and ways behind me. I wanted to be a better man for her ... to be the kind of man she deserves.

Leo stares at me unblinkingly for what seems like hours. “When you say stopped screwing around, are you talking about sex?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve been celibate?”

“Yes.”

“For how long? An hour?”

“Actually, it was closer to a year.”

Leo stumbles backward a step, as if I’ve given him a jab to the solar plexus. “No fucking way.” He points his forefinger at me. “You’re lying to me.”

Before I unzipped my pants in the folly, I hadn’t been inside anyone for more than eleven months. “I’m telling you the truth, Leo.”

“Jesus.” He tunnels his fingers through his hair. “What are you going to do?”

I stare blankly at my brother. “What am I going to do?” I echo. “Cassie is having another man’s baby. The best thing I can do is avoid her.”

“You can’t avoid her forever, Marco.”

“I can try.” I muster a smile for my brother. “It has to be easier than being celibate for fifty-one weeks.”