It was better this way. If he lost her now, he wouldn’t lose her later. He drew his feelings back into the vault where he’d kept them, though somehow that vault could no longer contain them. So he did what he supposed most people in the world did; he got up, carrying his hurt like a weight that he tried not to stumble under, and prepared to face the day—alone.

Chapter 25

Today I found Johan upset again. He asked me why the mothers in fairy tales always had to die. He said it wasn’t fair. I didn’t know what to say because he already knew the answer. My sweet boy threw his arms around me and begged me to promise him that I would never die. I came so close to lying to him, to both of us. But I told him that I would die one day, as all things must, and that it would be painful for him. I told him I hoped that before I did, I got to see him grow into the beautiful man I know he’ll become. I told him I hoped I would see him fall in love. I told him that if I didn’t live to see those things, I would still be there with him. Every time he felt deeply: every time he laughed or cried or raged. Because feeling deeply is something he got from me, if it’s not too egotistical to say so. It is my gift to him. I hope he always remembers that.

—From the journal of Queen Laetitia von Braustein, Private Collection of the Castle von Braustein Library

After standing in the shower staring blankly at the tiled walls, he’d gone to Nya’s room only to find it empty. She’d packed at record speed, it seemed, the quicker to get away from him.

He’d gone to the parlor, the first to arrive after the serving staff had laid out their breakfast, and Googled One True Prince as he waited. It was clearly a popular game, and there were hundreds of screenshots and dozens of videos of playthroughs.

He watched through a video showing the game if you were in a romance with the character that was based on him, a frown on his face at the ways in which the character was similar and different from him. His character was trying to overthrow the systems of monarchies, which he found a bitter irony in, given how much he’d done to put Liechtienbourg’s in a good light, despite his disdain. The character Hanjo did it by collecting information about his fellow princes and giving it to the press, by committing small acts of vandalism like spray painting “Down with the monarchy!” and—

Johan sat up straight in his chair, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he stared at the screen. So many of the things this Hanjo character said in screenshots echoed what he’d read in the “vote no” forum, particularly from the commenter FloupGelee.

He remembered what Greta had said that morning—the IP addresses used had been at the palace . . . and at Lukas’s school. In focusing on Nya, he’d missed a rather important connection. One that he couldn’t bring himself to believe, but . . .

The door to the parlor opened and King Linus and Prince Lukas walked in. Linus sat and slapped his hands on his knees, his expression tense. Lukas sulked into a seat and sucked at the plastic tube of frozen yogurt that had been his favorite comfort food since he was a child, the Floup brand name emblazoned on the side of it.

“FloupGelee,” Johan said blankly, and watched as Lukas froze.

“What?” Linus asked, looking back and forth between them.

“Why?” Johan asked. “For years I’ve—” He stopped, remembering what Nya had explained about her father, how he’d used his loving care of her to beat her down with. He softened his tone. “Why are you undermining the referendum?”

Lukas’s eyes narrowed in anger, but then he frowned and his eyes welled with tears.

“Please,” Johan said gently. “We can figure this out, but I need to know why before we can do that. I love you, and I won’t do anything to hurt you. I won’t get mad.”

That wasn’t a lie. Something must have driven Lukas to try to destroy his own future. Something he’d been too scared to tell Johan.

Make sure you talk to your sibling, okay? And listen, too. Lukas needs you right now.

Johan started to get an idea of what was going on, memory after memory slotting into place: Lukas’s distaste for the preppy look; Johan telling Lukas to stay out of their mother’s makeup; Lukas asking why some things were for girls and some were for boys, and the upset Johan’s answer of “Because that’s how things are” had caused. The fight they’d had just before Johan had left for Thesolo.

“I always pressured you to act a certain way, to project a certain image. Did you just get tired of that?”

Lukas put down the empty sleeve of yogurt and nodded jerkily.

“You always taught me what to do to be the perfect prince. To hide everything important to me and always show everyone what they wanted to see,” he said, his voice sounding so much like it had when he was small that Johan’s own throat roughened. Lukas’s clear blue eyes met Johan’s. “What you wanted to see. Football, and riding, and being popular with the boys. Whenever I talked about what I wanted you told me it was something people would make fun of me for.”

God, he really had messed it up. He’d thought he was helping, thought he was saving Lukas pain, but he’d overcorrected and began to push instead of guide. He’d always wondered why Mamm had let him act in ways that led to bullying and now he had his answer—she’d let him be himself. Johan had made Lukas think he should be someone else.