Chapter 11
Spencer
B
efore I do anything Lyra-related, I visit the castle to see my father.
My father doesn’t really have an official title, nor a job description. They call him the right-hand man of the king, but no one really knows exactly what he does.
He does a lot.
Duncan Laz has been at the side of the king of Laandia since before Magnus was king, guiding, advising, and supporting him in everything he does.
The fishing dispute with Canada? Duncan was behind the scenes researching the issue, talking to the right people, and creating the talking points so Magnus could nail the negotiations.
When the queen suddenly passed away? Dad, with Mrs. Theissen’s help, organized the funeral, dealt with the outpouring of grief from the country and basically ran Laandia for weeks while the family grieved.
When Bo had a secret wedding eight years ago—
No, that was me. My father had no clue about that.
I head to the castle after beers with the boys. Bo offered to fly me down to Saint Pierre first thing in the morning, and there is much to be done if I’m going to take a few weeks off.
I’m really not sure how much time I’ll need because I have no idea how long Lyra will want to keep me around.
If at all.
I manage to avoid most of the staff and residents of the castle as I slip upstairs to Dad’s office.
He has a suite of rooms on the top floor but his office is down the hall from the king’s.
It’s the one hallway that doesn’t look like a castle, renovated under the former king.
I’ve always thought it looks a little like a corridor in the White House.
No one really likes it. I much prefer the rest of the castle, which is why I set up an office on the main floor, conveniently close to the kitchen.
The door to his office is open but I knock anyway.
“What’s up?” Dad runs a hand through his grey hair. People say a lot of things about Duncan Laz but the one thing everyone agrees on is that he is a seriously beautiful man with great hair. “Long day. You here for work or just to say hi?”
I shake my head. “I cut out early. I needed a meeting with the boys.”
He narrows his silvery eyes and motions me to take a seat.
His eyes are the same colour as mine—flashing grey one moment and green the next.
We all got the good hair from Dad, but mine will never hang loose to my shoulders as his does.
Even after all these years, my father still looks like he belongs on a romance novel cover, albeit a little tired with a few extra lines around his eyes.
“Was that meeting about Lyra?”
Dad’s abrupt question throws me. I know what I came to say to him, and planned how to say it, and I wasn’t going to start with Lyra.
I thought I would slowly get around to her.
Dad leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “I wondered if her going on that reality show might light a fire under you. Guess it’s better late than never.”
My jaw drops and I’m silent for a full minute. “What do you mean?” I finally manage.
“Spencer Xavier Laz, do you honestly think that there is anyone in this place who doesn’t know that you’re completely crazy about our princess?”
“I—what?” I give my head a shake. I’m not usually so tongue-tied.
Dad chuckles. “You want me to call in Magnus? We’ve been expecting this day since you first crawled up on the queen’s bed to see Lyra when she was born.”
“I never—”
He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a business card and carefully sets it before me on the desk. “Grayson Grant’s number. I’m assuming you’re on your way to Saint Pierre?”
There’s no sense denying what he says is right. I have been crazy about Lyra my entire life, and I’ve spent that much time trying to pretend it isn’t so.
Accepting it is like opening a door to a room that has sat musty and dark for years, and I laugh because it’s a relief. “How did you know?”
Dad grins. “Oh, my boy. Everyone knows.”
“Except for me, I guess.”
“You have been a bit distracted. What about Abigail?”
“She’s the one telling me to figure things out once and for all.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked her. It’s a shame though. I’ll be sad to see her go. But what else can you do?”
“You think so?” I lean forward, resting my hands on his desk. “That it’s a good idea? Me and… me and Lyra?”
It’s the first time I’ve actually said it. Our names have been linked many times, but never by me.
Me and Lyra. Lyra and I. Spencer Laz and Princess Lyra of Laandia.
It might need some getting used to.
“It wouldn’t be my first choice,” Dad admits.
“Why?” I demand, my voice rising.
Dad waves away my concern. “It’s nothing about Lyra, just that it can be hard to live as a royal. We may be close, but you and I still have a life outside the castle.”
“Really?” I raise a skeptical eyebrow because Dad spends more time on Laandian business than even the king.
“Well, we could,” he concedes with a rakish smile. “We still have our privacy. But if you take this step with Lyra, you’ll lose all that. I don’t think you realize that.”
“I know what I’m getting into.”
“Maybe. Those boys on the show have no clue, though. I knew there’d be a reaction from Lyra when you got serious with Abigail, but no one could have expected this.
Not that there was any way to stop her, mind you.
” This is said with true affection rather than resignation.
Duncan is Lyra’s biggest champion. He would never pick a favourite member of the family, but if he were ever forced to, I really think it would be Lyra.
He presses his fingertips together. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m not sure about anything,” I confess.
“But you know you need to go after her?”
I stare at the white card on his desk. GRAYSON GRANT with a rose above it. “I’m not,” I say with confusion. “Yes, I’m headed to Saint Pierre for a few weeks, but I’m not going to stop Lyra from being on the show.”
Dad laughs. “It’d be fun to see you try. No, you’re about to throw your hat in the ring. I understand. It’s your only option. And I say—what are you waiting for?”
I’m not waiting, more like taking a breath because there’s a possibility that my life is about to change.
I’ve never wanted to be a prince. I see how all four of the Erickson brothers struggle with their duties and responsibilities as members of the royal family. I’ve done what I can to help them, and that’s been enough.
Sometimes I wonder if I should have taken a different path, one that led me away from the family. It had been my choice—my father told me enough times how demanding it was being so close to the family. Rewarding, but it’s clear that it takes a lot out of him.
One could say it destroyed his marriage, but then, if you look at his ex-wife, it’s clear the fault doesn’t lie solely with him.
I shake my head with a grin. “You sound like Magnus.”
“Or maybe he sounds like me. But Spence, you need to know, once you walk out of this office, things are going to change.”
“I know.”
“Those boys say a lot of things about their sister, but they’re fiercely protective of her. I know this, because so am I. I don’t want to see her get hurt. No one does.”
“I’m not about to hurt her.”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt either.”
“I think that’s more likely to happen,” I say grimly.
There are a few possibilities here: My life will change the moment I walk onto the set of that show. Either I can win Lyra’s heart, or she sends me packing without letting me take a shot.
Or I take that shot and find out it’s not going to work. That’s a possibility as well. But I’m not looking at the third option, just the first two.
They are terrifying enough.
“I don’t know what goes on in that girl’s head, but there is a lot of you in there,” Dad continues while I fight with my fear. “Have you spoke to your sisters? Sophie might have some insight how to best win her over.”
“No offence, but if I can’t do it myself, I don’t deserve her.”
“That is true. She’s just had her first date with a guy.”
That jolts me and I stand up. “I don’t want to waste any more time.”
“I concur. I don’t think you should.” He stands up. “Keep me posted.”
“I’m not sure I can, but I’ll try to get in touch with you and let you know if anything happens.” I take a deep breath. “And if nothing happens… well, I’ll be home in a week or so.”
He nods. “One more thing that’s going to change? There’ll be no more hiding in the shadows for you. You do this, you better be all in. For all of it.”
That doesn’t help.
But the arm slung around my shoulder does as he walks me to the door, as does the hand splayed at back of my neck as my father hugs me. “Good luck, my boy. I’d say you don’t need it, but this is Lyra we’re talking about.”