Chapter 8 Leo #2
She withdraws, leaving me wondering exactly how many people are aware of whatever is—or isn’t—developing between Rangi and me.
Twilight settles over the palace grounds, painting the grounds in deepening shades of blue and purple. I’ve been walking the grounds for nearly half an hour, having escaped the last of my duties with barely concealed impatience.
What am I doing?
The question has echoed through my mind all day. What am I doing arranging clandestine meetings with a tribal captain? What am I doing risking scandal, distraction, conflict of interest when the sacred sites project faces such political opposition?
What am I doing listening to my heart when duty has always guided my path?
“You’re overthinking again.”
I turn at the sound of Rangi’s voice, finding him approaching along the garden path.
He’s shed his ceremonial attire, dressed now in casual clothes that somehow emphasize rather than diminish his presence.
In the fading light, with no one else to see, I allow myself to truly look at him—to acknowledge the way my pulse quickens at the sight of his broad shoulders, the warrior markings on his arms, the way his mouth curves into a smile that has haunted my dreams for years.
“Force of habit,” I admit, staying rooted to my spot beneath the meditation arch.
He comes to stand before me, close enough that I can catch his scent—a hint of ceremonial herbs, clean skin, and something uniquely him. “Some habits need breaking.”
We regard each other in the gathering dusk, the air between us charged with all that remains unsaid.
“You asked me to meet you,” I remind him when the silence stretches too long. “Is there something you need?”
“Maybe.” He steps closer, deliberately entering my space. “But first, I want to know if you’ve been honest with yourself since yesterday.”
His directness shouldn’t surprise me—Rangi has never been one for diplomatic evasion—but it still catches me off guard. “About what?”
His eyebrow lifts. “You know what.”
I consider deflection, evasion, all the tactics I’ve perfected over years in the public eye. But something about this place, about the way he looks at me, demands truth.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” I say finally. “About us. About you.”
“And?”
I take a breath, bracing myself. “It was a mistake.”
Something flashes in his eyes—disappointment, perhaps, or resignation. “A mistake,” he repeats flatly.
“Not for the reasons you think,” I hurry on, needing him to understand. “Not because I don’t want... this. But because I can’t have it.”
“Can’t?” He steps closer still, until we’re nearly touching. “Or won’t allow yourself?”
“Is there a difference?”
“All the difference in the world.” His voice drops lower. “One is impossible. The other is a choice.”
I turn away, moving to the edge of the small clearing where the meditation arch stands. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It isn’t simple.” He follows, not allowing me to create distance. “Nothing worthwhile ever is. But, Leo, you’ve spent your whole life serving others—your father, your sister, your country. When do you get to choose something for yourself?”
The question strikes at something deep within me, a longing I’ve buried beneath duty and obligation. “That’s not how this works. I am who I am. My position comes with responsibilities, expectations.”
“And sacrifices?” He rounds to face me again. “Is that what I am to you? Another sacrifice on the altar of duty?”
His bluntness pulls me up short. “That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not.” His expression softens slightly. “But neither is denying yourself happiness out of fear.”
“It’s not fear,” I protest automatically. “It’s practicality. The Prime Minister already has reservations about protecting the sites we mapped today. If there’s even a hint of personal involvement between us, the opposition could use it to discredit the entire project.”
“Is that what you’re worried about? The project?”
I run a hand through my hair, frustration breaking through my usual composure. “Of course I’m worried about the project. These sites have been sacred to our people for centuries. If we can’t protect them now, they’ll be lost forever.”
“And you think your personal happiness would somehow compromise that protection?”
“It’s not about happiness,” I argue, though even to my own ears, the words ring hollow. “It’s about appearance, about maintaining the neutrality needed to navigate these negotiations.”
Rangi steps closer, his gaze intent. “Tell me something, Leo. When you were marking the sacred sites today, when you put your finger on the Valley of Whispers knowing full well it sits on one of the richest mineral deposits in the country—was that a neutral act?”
I stare at him, caught off guard by his knowledge of the geological surveys.
“Your commitment to our heritage isn’t neutral,” he continues. “It’s passionate. It’s personal. And that passion is what makes you effective. Just as your passion in other areas could make you more whole.”
His hand reaches for mine, fingers brushing my wrist in a touch that sends heat up my arm. “What are you really afraid of, Leo? The political complications? Or the fact that I might actually matter to you?”
His words hit too close to home, peeling back layers of protection I’ve built up over years. “You don’t understand what’s it’s like.”
“Then help me understand.” His fingers intertwine with mine, the contact sending electricity through my veins. “Make me understand why you’re willing to walk away from something that could be extraordinary.”
I should pull away. Instead, I find myself tightening my grip on his hand, anchoring myself to him as I struggle to articulate fears that have defined me for so long.
“The nightclub photo...” I begin, the memory still sharp enough to sting. “You weren’t there for the aftermath.”
“I saw the reports.”
“Reports don’t capture what it was like.
” I swallow hard, the words difficult even now.
“They don’t show Kit fielding questions about her ‘deviant’ brother during diplomatic meetings.
They don’t show Charlotte getting harassed outside her university.
They don’t show my mother having to defend her son’s ‘lifestyle choices’ to pearl-clutching traditionalists. ”
Understanding dawns in his eyes. “And you think the same would happen now?”
“I know it would. But worse.” I meet his gaze steadily.
“I’m not some twenty-year-old kid who people are assume is just ‘experimenting.’ I’m third in line to the throne, the Crown’s representative to the tribes.
If we’re photographed together, it wouldn’t just be personal embarrassment.
It could jeopardize everything we’re working for. ”
“You give yourself too much credit,” he says, though his tone is gentle. “And not enough credit to your people.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Astipia isn’t the same country it was when that photo leaked.
I mean that your sister is now Queen, Lottie is married to a former bodyguard, and the world hasn’t ended.
” His thumb traces patterns on my palm. “You know that our people had queer relationships for millennia before the religious folks arrived. Hell, we celebrate trans-heroes like Litie in our stories.” He strokes a hand across my cheek.
“You’re allowed to have a personal life, Leo, without it destroying everything you care about. ”
The tenderness in his voice weakens my resolve, crumbling the walls I’ve maintained for years. “I don’t know how to do this,” I admit, the words barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to want something for myself.”
His touch is gentle yet grounding. “Then let me help you figure it out. One day at a time.”
I know what being with me will cost him—but fuck if I’m not selfish. I lean into his touch as yearning deeper than the ocean cracks open inside me.
“I can’t promise anything,” I warn him. “The political realities won’t change overnight.”
“I’m not asking for promises.” His smile is gentle, understanding. “I’m asking for a chance. For us to explore this”—he gestures between us—“whatever it is. Not as prince and captain, but as Leo and Rangi.”
The invitation hangs between us, a possibility I’ve denied myself for too long. In the shadow of the ancient arch, with night gathering around us, I make a choice—not for duty or country, but for myself.
“One day at a time,” I agree, my voice steadier than I feel.
His smile widens, reaching his eyes in a way that makes my heart stutter. “That’s all I’m asking.”
This time, when he leans in, I meet him halfway. Our lips touch, gentle at first, then with growing hunger as the restraint of years begins to crumble. His arms encircle me, pulling me against the solid strength of his chest as my hands find their way into his hair.
Unlike the desperate clash in the gym, this kiss is slower, exploratory—a choice rather than an impulse. I pour years of wanting into it, allowing myself to taste without guilt or fear holding me back.
When we finally break apart, both breathing harder, his forehead rests against mine. “Worth the wait,” he murmurs, his voice rough in a way that sends heat pooling low in my belly.
“We need to be careful,” I say, though I don’t move from his embrace. “Discreet.”
“I can do discreet.” His hand slides up my back, tracing my spine through my shirt. “For now.”
The qualifier should worry me, but with the taste of him still on my lips and his arms around me, I can’t bring myself to care about future complications.
For the first time in years—perhaps for the first time ever—I allow myself to embrace what I want rather than what duty dictates.
In the sacred space of the meditation arch, with night falling around us, I choose to be simply Leo—a man following his heart rather than his sense of obligation.
Tomorrow will bring complications, negotiations, the weight of responsibility. But tonight belongs to us.