Admiral Read Free Page B

In this one way—and this one way only—I resented my close relationship with Nestor. He was the mockery of a family, and despite all his noble efforts and the genuine sense of comradeship we shared he could never be anything more. Everything about my most personal life was toxic, and no one was more aware of it than I was.  First I envied James his chance for happiness, then I'd turn around and feel well-deserved guilt about resenting the fact that Nestor wasn't Frieda. Field theory was simple, I decided for about the ten millionth time. Feelings were hard!
     
    Or feelings were hard for me at least; apparently they were a little more transparent to others. For after what'd seemed to me like a perfectly nice little dinner with His Majesty and Gwen, complete with laughter and pleasant inanities and at Gwedolyn's polite request a full Sword-salute, James asked me to stay over and talk some more. "All right," he said, looking me in the eyes. "Something's bothering you about my fiancé. Spill."
     
    I looked away. Nestor had never been out of my presence for a moment since I'd confided in him, so apparently my feelings were more obvious than I realized. "I like the woman well enough," I explained, my words unusually hesitant. "It's not her at all. James... I truly believe you've chosen well."
     
    My blood-brother blinked—clearly he'd been expecting a different answer.
     
    "I mean it!" I continued. "She even tries the Rabbit-dishes, and pretends to like some of them to make Nestor and I feel more at home. Almost no one else ever does that. She's sweet, intelligent, and clearly wild about you." I smiled faintly. "What more could I ask in a sister-in-law?"
     
    His Majesty scowled. "You're family to me, David. Not like family—real, actual family. That's why I'm making time to have this little talk with you, when my advisors would have me elsewhere." He sighed and pulled up his chair alongside mine. "So... What is troubling you, my brother? And why does your expression always darken whenever Gwendolyn enters the room?"
     
    So I told him, of course. All of it, even the parts that hurt, because as my brother he deserved no less. And when I was done there was a long, long silence. "I see," he said at last. "Or at least I think I do." He smiled faintly. "You know, in some ways it makes me feel a bit better to know that you're human. No offense meant. It's just that some of us were beginning to wonder."
     
    "Flawed," I replied with a nod, though my features remained sober. "Broken. Non-functional."
     
    Instantly James's smile vanished. "Your pain is my pain, David—I've said it many times before, and I meant it then as much as I do now. And yet...." He shook his head sadly—"I find that even the power of a monarch has its limits."
     
    "I know," I replied, rising slowly to my feet. "And I thank you for—"
     
    "Sit down," James commanded. "We're not half done yet. In fact, we've only just begun."
     
    Instantly I was back in my chair. "David," His Highness began, "You're one of the most intelligent and capable beings it's ever been my pleasure to know. Perhaps the most intelligent and capable. And with me growing up the way I did, that's saying something." He paused again and took a long, slow sip of water. "And yet over the years we've had to teach you much that you didn't—couldn't!—know simply because of who and what you were." He sighed. "The lessons weren't exactly one-way affairs of course, and I'm not referring to your helping me sometimes with the higher maths, either. The lessons you taught—first to me and then the upper aristocracy of the House of Marcus and then the entire universe—go far beyond the mastery of equations. They were about who we are, who our slaves are, and what's noble and good and decent in life." He sipped again. "You've been a masterful tutor, David. But you're apparently a better teacher than student."
     
    By then I was crying a little, though tears weren't something I often indulged