The First And Future Prince

Chapter 1

One

The present

"C astaldini's future depends on you."

The slightly slurred words hit Phoebe Alexander like a sledgehammer.

She gaped at the man who'd spoken them before she'd even cleared the towering doors to his state room. He was approaching her like a slow-motion, head-on collision.

She watched King Benedetto limp across the gigantic Castaldini crest that bulls-eyed the carpet sprawling over acres of mosaic hardwood floor. Each shuffle transmitted its struggle to her muscles. His cane thumped the ground to the rhythm of her haywire heartbeats.

If she hoped she'd misheard what he'd said, he said it again as if to underline the acuteness of her hearing.

"It all depends on you, figlia mia."

Every word from his mouth tugged on a rawness inside her. She'd come to love him like the father she'd never had, her own having walked out when she was two and her mother was pregnant with her sister, Julia. But she still couldn't handle him calling her daughter. She sure didn't belong in the same place in his heart where his grandchildren and their mother-her sister-reigned supreme. She never knew what to do with the reflected affection, but tried to be of as much use as she could to feel entitled to it. She still wasn't close to feeling that.

How could Castaldini's future depend on her when it was facing dangers only a king could divert?

She searched his steel-blue eyes for a qualification. They had that look she'd seen during too many crises. It always meant his mind was made up, his decree final. And in her experience, he had yet to be proven wrong.

King Benedetto hadn't become the longest-reigning and most beloved king since King Antonio for nothing. In her opinion, he was the shrewdest, most effective ruler of the twentieth century. He was also the most controversial, as his politics had practically segregated Castaldini from the rest of the world during his forty-year reign. But his policies had protected the kingdom from the upheavals that had swept the world during those decades. What's more, this detachment from the global political scene had boosted Castaldini's allure, translating into a booming tourist industry.

That had lasted until the end of the twentieth century. The twenty-first century hadn't proven to be his domain so far, and everything seemed to be falling apart. To compound problems, he also held another record. He had ruled the longest without choosing a crown prince.

He'd been a gracefully aging Olympian who everyone believed would live and rule for forty more years, would turn things around in time. Until he'd been struck down by a stroke four months ago. And the lack of a crown prince was now taking on potentially catastrophic meaning.

King Benedetto stopped a dozen steps from her and leaned on his cane, the asymmetry of his injury exaggerating the spasm of suffering and agitation on his face. "I will never recover enough to continue to rule Castaldini."

She couldn't even blurt out reassurances. His stroke had sheared his life force in half. It hurt her to see him now, his face emaciated, his ornate regal uniform flapping emptily around a once formidable physique. But she could say one thing and mean it. "Your Majesty, you are improving."

"No, figlia mia." He cut across her attempt at qualification. "I'm barely walking, my left side is all but useless and the least illness leaves me bedridden, barely able to breathe."

"But it's not like you need to be in peak physical fitness."

Half of his face softened, appreciating her efforts, pointing out their foolishness. "Yes, I do. You know it's the Castaldinian law. And it goes beyond that. My mental faculties..."