The leather chair creaked as Tyler settled in, the rich scent of rye and cigar smoke lingering in the air. A crystal chandelier cast a warm, flickering glow over polished mahogany furniture and the plush Persian rug underfoot. James sat across from him. Between them, a low table held an ashtray, a bottle of brandy, and two lowball glasses..
"Lolita. Interesting choice for your daughter's name, James," Tyler said, swirling his glass of amber liquid. "Were 'Scandalia' and 'Tabooella' taken?"
James didn't flinch. "Her mother, Charlotte, named her. She thought it was elegant."
"Mmm, yes. Elegant in the way a broken chandelier is—sparkly, and a mild safety hazard."
"She likes her name," James replied, tone flat. "I'm not here to defend it like it's on trial."
"Maxwell told me during a break from our political meeting in the courtyard that 'Lolita' means seductress," Tyler said, raising an eyebrow like a judgmental librarian.
James snorted, sipping his brandy. "That's ripping it out of context. Lolita's no seductress—she'd sooner dropkick a man than flirt with him. Her real issue is Ethan. Those two circle each other like wolves, and I can't figure out why."
Tyler leaned forward, the chandelier's light catching his cobalt suit. "Different mothers, maybe? Different worlds? Plus, a ten-year age gap doesn't help."
"Their personalities are like oil and water," James replied. "Ethan saves for a rainy day; Lolita spends before the cloud has even formed. It wears me down."
"Speaking of family, I'm still amazed Leslie found it in her to forgive you," Tyler said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "After everything with Charlotte."
James shrugged. "It took years. Years I barely deserved. I was stupid and selfish. If Desmond hadn't visited the castle to change Leslie's mind about me, she would never have taken me back."
"Who's Desmond?" Tyler sipped his brandy.
"Leslie's older brother. He used to visit just to see Lolita. He'd call her 'the light of my life." Meant every word."
"Wow, that's a whole lot of light! Does Lolita ever talk about Desmond?"
James shook his head. "No. Lolita likes to keep things to herself."
Tyler swirled his glass, his voice softer. "Five years since Leslie's death. Coronary artery disease, wasn't it?"
"Runs in her family," James said grimly. "She died at the age of thirty-seven, and Desmond died when he was forty-seven. I pray Ethan's spared."
A heavy silence settled, broken by James shifting in his seat. "Enough of that. This world ruler conference in three weeks is eating at me."
Tyler cocked his head. "Should be fun—luxury cruise ship, right?"
"Fun?" James scoffed. "Richard Scott will be there. That bastard started a war, left Intermarium drowning in debt with his damned copper taxes. Because of him, I failed to help my people in Intermarium."
"Dad." Ethan entered the common room wearing his green cable-knit sweater. "Yesmin Trixie wants you to call her back because she needs more details about the conference on the cruise."
"Jacob Kennedy ought to be more specific with our allies." James scowled. "Makes me question why he's in charge of hosting this conference."
"If only we could afford to buy the cruise ship and not have to rent it from him," Ethan muttered, eyeing Tyler's cobalt suit.
"I'd better call Yesmin before the Jade Sea sees dawn. Our alliance with Jayland demands inconvenient hours." James rose and straightened his jacket. "Thanks for coming by, Tyler. Nice to talk to a government official without an agenda, for once."
A single thought echoed in Tyler's mind as he walked down the glittering hallway. James calls himself a failure, but he forgets the war to stop Ossory from seceding. He forgets the soldiers who bled to hold this nation together. It wasn't all for nothing.