Forever Theirs

by Katee Robert

  He said it so casually, as if his protecting Theo was as second nature as breathing. That’s because it is.

  She nodded and squeezed his hand, and then they were through the door at the top of the stairs and into another world.

  Meg hadn’t had nearly as much time to examine Thalania when she and Galen were rushing to beat Theo there, and the tunnels were just tunnels. Impressive for their scope, but not particularly jaw-dropping.

  The palace changed that.

  She stopped short and took in the great domed ceiling, the tile beneath her feet that looked positively ancient despite being shined within an inch of its life, and the framed paintings lining the wall that had to be priceless. She recognized a few of the styles, though Meg had never been particularly into art. The fact she recognized them at all spoke to their value. This is where Theo grew up. This is where Galen’s spent the last decade and a half.

  “This room used to have double the amount of art, but Theo’s mother thought it should be enjoyed, so she spread it out through the rest of the palace. After Mary died and Teddy remarried, Katherine kept things the way they were.” Galen gave her hand one last squeeze. “Stay close.”

  Theo smoothed a hand down his shirt. He’d changed since they’d seen him last and now he wore slacks and a button-up. He glanced at her. “After this, we’ll talk. All three of us.”

  Talk about the future.

  She nodded, her heart a caged beast in her chest. Meg had meant every word she’d said to Galen, and every word she’d said to Theo. She loved them. She wanted to figure it out. Find some sort of compromise that wouldn’t drive them all insane.

  It had to be possible.

  She really, really hoped it was possible.

  “Let’s go.” Theo led their strange little procession out of the room and down an equally impressive hall, its thick white walls making her think of the home in Greece they’d left not too long ago. But where Galen’s place was sparse and strangely comfy, this one radiated cold power. It was a reminder of how different the worlds they came from were.

  And, for the first time, Meg just didn’t give a fuck.

  Theo and Galen might have been raised completely different than her, but if she was going to fight so hard to scrub off her history, she would allow them to do the same. The only thing that mattered was the future. It had enough hurdles without her throwing a few more up because of her issues. She would likely never be comfortable with their wealth, but she was willing to try to get over the money stuff if it meant having these two men in her life.

  She half expected him to lead her to an honest-to-god throne room, but the door Theo walked through ended in a glorified sitting room. The room held an array of chairs and couches that were all artfully arranged to create an intimate setting where deals were obviously made. Seven people filled them, four men and three women.

  Meg automatically categorized them as she took up a position next to Galen, three steps behind Theo. The older man with the distinguished mustache was a good tipper, and he had kind eyes that didn’t quite mask the intelligence and ambition there. She would have pegged him as a CEO or someone high up in a corporate office based on that combined with his expensive suit. The two women under fifty looked at Theo as if he was a piece of prime rib that had been delivered specifically for them. The older woman had to be approaching ninety, but from the other six’s body language, she was the one to watch. The final three men were cast from the same mold—rich and ambitious—though they couldn’t look more different in their coloring, ranging from pale and blond to dark brown skin and black hair.

  She couldn’t see Theo’s face from her position, but the line of his shoulders told her everything she needed to know. He moved like a solider stepping onto a battlefield he wasn’t sure he’d survive. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Curiosity, my dear Theo,” the mustached man said with a smile. “It’s not every day that a prince returns from exile.”

  “Former prince.” This from the young-ish blond woman. She wore a designer dress in a tasteful baby blue that showed off her lean legs.

  Meg glanced at Galen, but he was too busy watching the seven to notice her. It reinforced her feeling of being embattled, though no one had said anything particularly vicious yet. She pressed her lips together to stifle her questions. If they made it out of this the way Theo obviously had planned, then she’d have time for her questions later.

  The door swung open and a man walked into the room. He was like a smaller, diminished version of Theo. Narrower in both shoulders and face, his hair thinning on top, his eyes so cold Meg doubted they ever warmed. His step hitched when he realized who occupied the room, but the surprise didn’t show in his expression. “Interesting gathering, Theodore.”

  This had to be Phillip, Theo’s uncle. There was no one else it could be.

  Theo pivoted easily to meet Phillip without ever actually offering the rest of the people his back. “Uncle. I bring glad tidings.” His smile lit up the room, and she would never know by looking at him that he loathed his uncle, or that the man had attempted to have him murdered.

  A born politician.

  But then, you knew that. It’s just another facet of Theo.

  He turned back to the gathered people. “You see, there’s been a mistake. Let me explain.”

  Theo didn’t give Phillip a chance to take control of the conversation, and he didn’t give himself a chance to react to seeing his uncle after all these months. They had never been close, not when Phillip always had his eye on the throne, but family should have meant something. He knew better. Of course he knew better.

  The bastard didn’t even wait a week after his brother—Theo’s father—died to make his move. That was what Theo couldn’t, wouldn’t, forgive.

  Then there’s the rumors of poisoning…

  He turned with a practiced smile to the nobles gathered. “It seems my uncle was a little too trigger happy about declaring my parents’ marriage a fraud.”

  Pierce Huxley pulled at the edge of his mustache and raised his eyebrows. “We examined the evidence provided, and I don’t see how that’s possible. The dates speak for themselves.”

  “That would be true if my mother’s first marriage was legal.”

  Phillip finally recovered and moved forward, attempting to inject himself between Theo and the nobles. “It seems my nephew has taken the loss of this throne a little too hard and has brought you here to spin his conspiracy theories. I apologize for the inconvenience of you making a trip for nothing, but I will see him suitably dealt with.” He flashed a look at Theo over his shoulder that promised the kind of pain that could break a man.

  If he didn’t win this, Theo wouldn’t be walking out of this palace alive.

  Neither would Galen or Meg.

  “Let the boy speak.” Yael Nibley, rose. At five foot-nothing with a cloud of white curls around her head and a jeweled cane she used to get around, she was still an imposing presence that silenced everyone in the room. Likely because she had been head of the Nibley Family longer than any of them had been alive. She turned dark brown eyes on Phillip, the force of her personality snapping at him. “I, for one, would like to know what new evidence he’s brought.”

  Theo didn’t hesitate. “Of course, Lady Nibley.” He pulled out the documents he’d kept on his person since Meg discovered the truth. “If you’ll allow me.” Theo moved to lay them on the table in front of her. He went through what Meg had found, and the legalities behind it.

  Pierce frowned. “You’re sure the birth certificate is legitimate? I was under the impression that something had happened to make it irretrievable.”

  “A fire,” Phillip cut in smoothly, all honeyed words and false sympathy. “The clinic where Mary Mortimore was born was a small one in Germany and hadn’t had a chance to move their full backlist of paper documents to a digital format. The records were lost.”

  Oh, no you don’t. Theo kept his smile firmly in place. “That’s true. This didn’t come
from the clinic. This was a family-owned copy that I retrieved from my aunt, Alexis Mortimore.”

  Phillip blanched. “I was informed that no such copy existed.”

  “I’m afraid my aunt doesn’t hold much love for Thalania or the Fitzcharles family name. She wasn’t inclined to do you any favors.” If she had, Theo held no doubt that the birth certificate would have conveniently disappeared somewhere on the trip back to Thalania. He turned back to the gathered lords and ladies. “As you can see, because my mother was underage when the marriage certificate to her first husband was issued, that marriage wasn’t legal and is null and void. As such, her marriage to my father stands as her one and only marriage.”

  “On the contrary—”

  Theo spun on his uncle, his control slipping. “I realize this is not a convenient realization for you, uncle, and I’m dreadfully sorry for that, but the fact remains you declared me illegitimate in error.” He should have left it there, but long-banked fury got the best of him. “You should have hired more efficient assassins if you wanted to remain the right hand of the future king.”

  “I don’t know what you’re implying, but I resent it.”

  “I’m implying nothing. I’m flat out telling you that I have a firsthand account that you hired someone to attempt to kill me and make it look like an accident.”

  Phillip’s face went a dangerous shade of purple. “You’re out of line.”

  Lady Nibley adjusted her spectacles and set the birth certificate back onto the table. “The boy’s right, Phillip. You made a mistake.” She folded her hands in her lap, as regal as any queen who’d ever sat on the Thalanian throne. “Seeing as it required a vote to strip Theodore Fitzcharles III of his rank, based on the evidence provided by Phillip Fitzcharles, there’s no reason we can’t take a vote to reverse the order and reinstate him.”

  “You can’t do that,” Phillip snarled. His composure cracked and fell away like a badly fitted mask. “He’s a bastard and some bullshit paper isn’t enough to prove that he isn’t.”

  Lady Nibley ignored him the way she would ignore a toddler throwing a tantrum. “All in favor of reinstating Theodore Fitzcharles III as rightful King of Thalania?”

  Slowly, hands went up around the room. Theo noted that three—Hollis Vann, Doyle Bakaj, and Yancy Popov—hesitated before raising their hands. They didn’t want him back, but with four already voting to put the motion into effect, they didn’t want to bring attention to themselves.

  I’ll deal with you three later.

  Lady Nibley nodded. “Welcome back, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you, Lady Nibley.” It was done.

  He’d won.

  Theo turned to look at Galen and Meg, but stopped at the sight of Phillip backing toward the door. “Going somewhere, Uncle?”

  “You son of a bitch.” He moved, yanking the gun from Isaac’s holster and pointing it at Theo. “You can’t inherit if you’re dead.”

  Phillip never saw Galen coming.

  He grabbed the hand holding the gun and forced it to the ground as Phillip squeezed off two shots, and then Galen delivered a devastating punch to the older man’s jaw, sending him to the floor in a heap.

  It was over in seconds.

  He handed the gun back to Isaac. “Next time someone gets the drop on you like that, I’m going to kick your ass myself.”

  Isaac went pale. “Noted.”

  Theo took a careful breath and turned back to the nobles, all watching with varying degrees of surprise and alarm. “If you wouldn’t mind staying in the palace for a little while longer before going about your day, I have an announcement to make once I’ve taken care of this issue.”

  Once again, Lady Nibley spoke for all of them. She walked over and patted his cheek. “You’re a good boy, Theodore.” She stepped over Phillip’s prone body without missing a beat and walked out of the room.

  The others followed more slowly. Lord Huxley clasped Theo on the shoulder. “I’m genuinely happy to have you back, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you.”

  And then the room was empty except for the three of them and Isaac and Phillip. Theo stared down at his uncle. He’d like nothing more than to remove the man permanently, but doing so would alienate people he couldn’t afford to anger. “Isaac, arrest my uncle. He’ll be held on charges of treason while we conduct an official investigation into the events surrounding my father’s death and everything that’s happened since.” It was possible that Phillip had covered his tracks too well, but they would find out one way or another through the investigation. If his uncle was found guilty of treason through an official investigation, not a single one of his allies would stand with him. It was the only way to ensure Phillip didn’t become a martyr.

  He waited for Isaac to pull Phillip to his feet. “Once you have him secured, send a team to collect Dorian Mikos.” Galen’s father would receive the same treatment as Phillip—an official investigation followed by a trial. It would effectively take their fates out of Theo’s hands, and more importantly, out of Galen’s hands.

  Isaac nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. I’ll see it done immediately.” He hauled Phillip out of the room and shut the door softly behind him.

  Theo walked to the door, locked it, and finally gave Galen and Meg his full attention. Galen had an inscrutable look on his face, but there was relief in his dark eyes. Meg grinned bright enough to blind him. She threw herself into his arms. “You did it.”

  “We did it.”

  “You were amazing.” She kissed his jaw, his chin, his mouth. She wiggled out of his arms before he could fully enjoy the feel of her. Meg tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Congratulations, Theo. I mean it.”

  But she thought he’d turn her away now, send her back to New York. Reinforce the barriers he’d tried to put into place between them.

  Fuck. That.

  Theo walked to Galen and snagged his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He told his best friend with teeth and tongue what he’d already said with words. I love you. I’m sorry. The last needed to be voiced, though. Theo broke away. “I shouldn’t have sent you away.”

  “No, really?” Galen gave him a tight smile. “Congratulations, Your Highness.”

  “Don’t pull that bullshit.” He walked to the nearest chair and dropped into it. They drifted to stand next to each other, though he doubted they meant to. It was just sheer magnetism, drawing them together with both proximity and chemistry. He felt the pull, too, a hook in his gut that demanded he go to them, touch them, hold them close and celebrate this win.

  Not yet.

  Theo considered how to broach the subject, but in the end, he wanted nothing between them but perfect honesty. No good intentions. No self-righteous bullshit. Just the truth. “I want you to stay. Both of you.”

  Galen crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve talked about this. Several times.”

  “Yeah, we have. Things change.” He leaned forward. “Princess, you have another year of school and I’d never ask you to sacrifice that, but you don’t start back up again for another eleven months. Stay with us. Figure out if we can make this work. I know we can, but it will take time to work out the kinks.”

  She looked torn between hope and fear, her hazel eyes too large in her face. “What happens when eleven months is up?”

  “That’s for you to decide. Go back to NYC and finish out the degree. Visit us on your breaks, and we’ll visit you in between breaks. Or do your year remotely. It’s your choice.”

  Galen shifted. “You have to marry, Theo. It’s part of the gig.”

  This, at least, he had an answer for. “If you agree to stay, to be with me, I’ll name you Consort. Both of you.”

  Meg blinked. “What?”

  Theo couldn’t help a grin at their confusion. “There’s an old clause in our laws—so old, I’d completely forgotten about it until Isaac brought it up. Thalania’s always been a small country, and as power rose and fell around us, one of my many times removed great grand
fathers decided that if he had to marry a foreign princess to save the country, he would, but he wouldn’t share full power with her. So he named her Consort to his King. It put her above the noble families, but below his position. Their children were legitimate, of course.”

  “Charming.”

  “It was a different age.” He shrugged. “Only two of the monarchs in the entire Thalanian history utilized that clause, so it’s not well known. The reason I bring it up now is because there’s no limit on the number of Consorts a monarch can have.”

  Galen looked away, and back. “It will cause problems. Triads aren’t exactly an accepted thing, here or on the world stage.”

  “It won’t cause any issues that we can’t deal with together.” Theo pushed to his feet and crossed to them. He took their hands, and hesitated. This had to be their choice, damn it, but fuck. He wanted them to make the one that would bring them all the most happiness.

  He flat out wanted them. “It won’t be easy. There will be unique challenges, and things will be messy while people get used to the idea that their king is in love with two people. It’s worth it to me. More than worth it. I love you. Both of you.” He hesitated, trying to control his racing heart. He might as well have tried to control a stampede. “But if you don’t want all the strings that come attached to loving a king, I can’t blame you for that. Or if you want to take the eleven months and figure it out at the end of it, we can make it work.”

  “That means keeping things secret,” Galen said.

  “Yes.”

  “No,” Meg said. “No secrets. If we do this…” She gave herself a shake and lifted her chin. “I want you, Theo. And I want you, Galen. I can’t pretend that I’ll be graceful and easy about every challenge that shows up, but I’m willing to fight for you—for us.” She gave him a tentative smile, and then turned it on Galen. “What do you think?”

  “It might be a mistake.”

  Meg rolled her eyes. “No shit it might be a mistake. It could blow up in our faces—literally, apparently. The question isn’t what could go wrong. It’s whether you are willing to fight for what you want—what you love.”