Chapter 12 Rangi
RANGI
Morning light filters through the crack in the heavy curtains, casting a golden beam across Leo’s sleeping form.
I’ve been awake for nearly an hour, content to simply watch him—the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his dark lashes rest against his cheeks, how his usually controlled expression softens in sleep.
Last night had been... incredible.
He stirs slightly, one arm reaching across the empty space I’d left when I propped myself up on an elbow to watch him. His fingers curl into the sheets, seeking warmth.
“Stop staring,” he murmurs without opening his eyes. “It’s creepy.”
I laugh softly. “Can’t help it. You’re nice to look at.”
One eye cracks open, amber-flecked brown regarding me with sleepy amusement. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” He stretches, wincing slightly. “Though I may need a recovery day before ‘everywhere’ is an option again.”
“Sorry,” I say, not feeling sorry at all. After he’d taken me, I returned the favour—perhaps a little too enthusiastically judging by the wince and rather large hickey on his right pec.
His lips curve into a smile that makes my heart stutter. “Don’t be. I’m not.”
The moment hangs between us, warm and promising. In the light of day, I half-expected awkwardness, maybe even regret. Instead, there’s easy intimacy, the comfort of two people who have found something worth keeping.
“So,” I say, tracing patterns on his bare shoulder, “what happens now?”
Leo sighs, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “Now we get up, put on our formal clothes, and go back to battle with the Prime Minister who would rather appease mining interests than honour centuries of tradition.”
“I meant with us,” I clarify, though I know he understood my question.
He turns his head to look at me, his expression serious. “I don’t know, Rangi. I want—“ He pauses, seeming to wrestle with his thoughts. “I want this. Us. But it’s complicated.”
Lying here, with him in my arms, nothing has ever felt more simple.
“The young often think so,” I echo Elder Kiri’s words from yesterday, earning a raised eyebrow from Leo.
“I’m pretty sure thirty-two doesn’t qualify as ‘young’ anymore.”
“To Kiri, we’re practically infants.” I prop myself up higher, looking down at him. “But she’s right. We complicate things that are actually quite simple.”
“Simple? There’s nothing simple about—“
“Do you want to be with me?” I interrupt.
His eyes widen slightly at my directness. “Yes.”
“And I want to be with you. That’s the simple part.” I brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “The rest—the logistics, the politics, the public opinion—that’s just noise. Important noise we have to deal with, but still just noise.”
He reaches up, capturing my hand and bringing it to his lips. “When you put it that way, it almost sounds manageable.”
“It is. We’ll figure it out as we go.” I lean down to kiss him, a gentle press of lips that carries promise rather than heat. “One day at a time, remember?”
He smiles against my mouth. “One day at a—”
The door to his quarters’ burst open without warning, slamming against the wall with a bang that has us both jolting upright.
“Leo, you won’t believe what that insufferable woman—“ Kit stops mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene before her—her brother and me, clearly naked beneath hastily pulled-up sheets, looking like guilty teenagers caught by a parent.
I will not think about the used condoms beside the bed. I will not think about the used condoms my Queen is looking at.
For a moment, the three of us are frozen in tableau, the silence almost comical in its awkwardness.
Then, to my astonishment, the Queen of Astipia simply waves a dismissive hand and continues as if she hasn’t interrupted her brother in bed with his lover.
“Never mind that,” she says, waddling further into the room, one hand supporting her heavily pregnant belly. “Did you know Jane Beesley has been meeting privately with mining executives for months? Months, Leo! Before any of our discussions even started!”
Leo blinks, clearly struggling to shift mental gears. “Kit, could you possibly—”
“Jonathan found out from one of his sources in Parliament.” She paces now, her usually stoic composure nowhere to be seen as she gestures wildly. “They’ve been planning to stonewall us all along! They never intended to compromise!”
I pull the sheet a little higher, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. The Queen of Astipia is ranting about politics while her brother and I are naked in bed, and she hasn’t even acknowledged it.
“That’s... concerning,” Leo manages, shooting me a helpless look. “But perhaps we could discuss it after—”
“After what?” Kit demands, turning back to face us with her hands on her hips. Then, as if suddenly remembering the situation, she gives us both a quick once-over. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. We shared baths until we were eight.”
“I wasn’t in those baths,” I point out, unable to help myself.
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Five minutes to get decent, then we’re discussing this. This is too important to wait.”
With that, she turns and waddles toward the door, muttering under her breath about “politicians” and “useless fools.” Just before she reaches the exit, she pauses, turning back.
“Though I will say thanks,” she adds with a sudden grin. “Charlotte owes me twenty pounds.”
“You bet on us?” Leo asks, sounding mortified.
“Of course we did. The pining was unbearable.” She smirks. “Five minutes, brother mine.” The door closes behind her with a decisive click.
Leo collapses back against the pillows with a groan. “Well, that was humiliating.”
I can’t help it—I start to laugh, the tension of the moment breaking into unexpected mirth. After a second, Leo joins me, his embarrassment giving way to the genuine absurdity of what just happened.
“Did my sister, the Queen of Astipia, just catch us in bed together and immediately start complaining about the Prime Minister?” he asks between chuckles.
“She did.” I wipe at my eyes, still laughing. “And apparently she and Charlotte had a wager on when we’d get together.”
“God, my family is impossible.” He sits up, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I suppose we should get dressed before Her Majesty returns and starts discussing fiscal policy while we’re in the shower.”
Five minutes later, hastily dressed and still slightly dishevelled, we join Kit in Leo’s sitting room. She’s made herself comfortable on the sofa, a pot of tea and several folders spread on the table before her.
“Finally,” she says, looking up from a document. “I was beginning to think I’d need to send in a search party.”
“You gave us five minutes,” Leo points out, settling into an armchair across from her. “And you might have knocked.”
“I’m the Queen, I never knock,” she says, as if that explains everything. “Besides, it’s an emergency.”
I take a seat beside Leo, acutely aware of the strange intimacy of this moment—being included in what is clearly a family discussion, and one with significant political implications.
“You said the Prime Minister has been meeting with mining executives?” I prompt, accepting the cup of tea Kit pushes toward me.
She nods, her expression darkening. “Private dinners, unofficial meetings, even a weekend at Thorpe’s country estate last month. Jonathan’s source says they’ve been coordinating strategy on how to limit the sacred sites protection without seeming to oppose it outright.”
Leo’s jaw tightens. “That explains a lot.”
“It gets worse,” Kit continues, pulling a document from one of the folders. “They’ve already drafted lease renewals for three of the sites we specifically marked as high priority for protection, including the Valley of Whispers.”
“They can’t,” Leo says, but his tone suggests he knows they absolutely can.
“They shouldn’t,” Kit corrects, “but legally? There’s nothing stopping them if the protection bill doesn’t pass.”
“So we’re back to the original problem,” I observe. “Getting the bill through Parliament with enough teeth to actually protect the sites.”
Kit nods, but there’s a glint in her eye that reminds me forcefully of her brother when he’s about to suggest something unexpected. “Unless we find another way.”
Leo leans forward. “What are you thinking?”
“Royal proclamation,” she says simply.
Leo’s eyebrows shoot up. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? It’s within my constitutional powers.”
“It hasn’t been done in over a century,” Leo counters. “And it would cause a constitutional crisis!”
“Only if it’s seen as overreach,” Kit argues, leaning forward with intensity. “But if it’s framed correctly—as the Crown fulfilling its traditional role as guardian of cultural heritage...”
“The opposition would still have a field day,” Leo says, though I can see he’s considering it. “They’d paint it as monarchical interference in democratic process.”
“Let them,” Kit says with a dismissive wave. “I’ve checked with the constitutional lawyers. The preservation of cultural heritage sites has precedent in royal prerogative.”
I watch this exchange with fascination, seeing the siblings work through the political and legal ramifications with the ease of people who’ve been trained since birth for exactly this kind of high-stakes negotiation.
“It would be controversial,” I say carefully, “but perhaps that’s not a bad thing. The public generally supports protecting the sites—it’s just the mining interests and their political allies who are opposed.”
“Exactly!” Kit points at me triumphantly. “The people are with us. And frankly, I’m tired of watching Jane Beesley play both sides while our heritage is at risk.” She rubs her belly absently. “I want my children to grow up knowing these places, not just reading about them in history books.”
“There would be consequences,” Leo warns. “Political, possibly economic.”
“I know,” Kit acknowledges. “But sometimes—oh!” She cuts off suddenly, a strange expression crossing her face.