by Lexi Whitlow
“I asked the doctor—and the on-call nurse—if it’s okay to still have sex, Matthias. It’s fine.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Mal. Not you or the baby. Nothing’s ever been so important to me. I never had a family—not a real one. This is my chance to have a family with someone I love.” Tenderly, he leans in and kisses me, tongue touching mine, lips moving in unison with mine.
There were men I kissed before Matthias, but it seems like each kiss with him matters far more, like each touch of his body holds more weight than any interaction I’ve ever had.
I reach for his length, and find that he’s hard. “Just be gentle. It’s the last morning I’ll wake up with you for a while. I want this.”
Matthias groans and his hand moves between my legs, gently caressing me until I’m slick with desire. I close my eyes, losing myself in his warmth, the piney scent he somehow always carries with him. Fingers trail up my body and find my breasts, fingertips brushing over my nipples, sending a glittering flush through to my core. His touches are slow and steady, hands gliding against my sex, filling me with a slow, burning longing.
His thumb makes its way down my slick folds and back over my clit in repeated circles. With each small movement, he brings me close to the edge, hungry for more. “You sure you want this right now? I’ll be worried for you when I go back home—”
I put a finger to his lips and kiss him in response, moving my body so that his cock rests close to my entrance. I’m already wet enough that the head slips right in. I bring his face close to mine, wrapping my fingers around his neck and sliding onto his length. His moan meets mine, deeper and more powerful than my own voice. Lightning courses through my veins, filling me and spreading out to each and every cell, every fiber of my being. Wired—that’s the feeling he gives me, my husband. This is the man I was meant to find on the trip I was supposed to go on to get away from my family. Instead, I found one. Maybe it was a little unconventional, the way we got here. And we both know for sure that there are difficulties we still must face—but our connection is undeniable. When he touches me, hands at my waist, gently guiding his body inside of mine in a gentle, steady rhythm, my worries wash away and evaporate into an invisible mist around me.
Time slows down, and I hear him moan in my ear, the base of his cock meeting my most sensitive button with each thrust. Chills run up and down my spine, my orgasm coming slowly, surely, more steadily than it ever has before. The sweet rush comes over me in slow, rising waves. I cry out softly, toes curling, nails digging into his flesh. I can’t tell if it’s one orgasm or many, running together like the currents of a stream, leading to a greater river. I feel him shudder against me, thrusting deep inside one final time. He fills me and falls to the bed, pulling me into his arms and cradling me against him.
“I don’t want to leave you, Mal,” he whispers.
“I don’t want you to leave. But I want something better than everything that’s crashing down around us right now. I want a life—with you.” The light is filtering in through the window I couldn’t quite get open today, and I can just make out his green eyes in the darkness.
“I want that too. And I don’t want you rotting away in my country, waiting for something to happen to my father so that I can get away. That’s not you.”
“Emilie was talking to you, wasn’t she?” We keep our voices at a whisper and hold each other close.
“She was. But I already knew everything she had to say. I knew it because I know you well enough—maybe not as well as I should—”
“Not as well as you’re going to. We have time for that to happen. I promise.” Even though the future is uncertain, I instinctively feel that what I’m saying is true.
“But I know you, and I think I did from the beginning. We fit together because you are the person your sister wanted you to be. You are the woman I thought you were when I met you.”
“What’s that, Matthias? What kind of woman did you think I was?” I try to think back to that night, to the white skirt I wore, to the deep, internal thoughts that plagued me as I walked through the city lights of Amsterdam, ignoring everything around me. Until I saw him. Matthias, standing at the door to the bar. I lift my fingers to touch the place on his chin where the bruise once was. It’s long faded, just like that night. But it seems to me that those memories are indelible.
“Wild. Adventurous.”
“And out of place in a palace?” I think of Matthias there, wandering the cold, white corridors. So different from everything he is. He may have had parts of himself hidden, but he’s anything but cold.
“Maybe. But you should take that as a compliment, lieverd. I think you’d be out of place because you’d be so unhappy.”
“And Caryn? She’ll be there with you?”
“I don’t think I’m exactly her type, now that I’m thinking more about it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I nuzzle closer to him and press my face to his neck. I hope he’s right. I hope this works, that he’ll come home to me so that we can have a home.
“I think we’ll both find out.”
“And your parents? They’ll just leave me alone?”
“If I give them enough to deal with, they will. Remember, they think you’re coming with me on the plane.”
“I still can.” A chill runs through me at the thought of going with him, and I realize how much I’ve been dreading it, how it pained me to give up Studio Berçot, even if it was a last minute choice. “You don’t have to go alone.”
“I won’t be. There’s someone I’m counting on, and I think she’ll be the key to untangling every last piece of this mess. Like I said, she’s three times smarter than I am. But she’s like you, a little.”
“How’s that?”
“She’s spent too long in the shadows. I think this will be the leap she needs.”
“If you say so, Matthias.”
We lie together until the sun has come up over the buildings across the street, and the wind is blowing fast and furious against the glass, rattling the fire escape. Reluctantly, Matthias pulls away from me and slips on his clothes, looking back at me as he packs his bags and slings them over his shoulder. I wonder, watching him, if I will in fact see him again like he says. There are parts of the plan he isn’t ready to share with me, and anxiety grips my gut as I think of him alone, figuring all of it out. It’s not just a family he’s dealing with after all—it’s an entire country. There are lives and dynasties in the mix.
But he’s right.
I don’t belong there.
I don’t want to belong there.
I want to belong somewhere else, with him. And our child. A baby who won’t be royal, except for when we look at him and love him with everything we have to give.
He leans in to kiss me before he goes.
It’s a leap of faith, letting him go. And, now I can see, it was a leap of faith for him to leave me here.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Matthias
The flight to the North Islands isn’t eventful—there’s an empty seat next to me in first class, and I think about Mallory, alone in her bed, back in her apartment.
It’s the right decision, but it doesn’t feel right, sitting in the plane without her.
When I land, my mother is there to greet me. My father stands there by her side, holding a cane, his face so pallid it’s almost white. The two guards we saw in Paris flank the king and queen of the North Islands, making them look even more intimidating. They aren’t anything to be afraid of, I remind myself—Mal is protected in more ways than one. She has the North Islands law on her side—and they’ll know they can’t do anything now that she’s married to me.
My mother looks at me carefully, to my right and then my left. Her eyes wander to the staircase that descends from the plane. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifts, and she crosses her arms.
“Where’s the girl?”
“Nice to see you too, Mother,” I say stepping toward her. “What girl
are you speaking of?”
“That pregnant girl. The one you married. I thought you might be joking when we saw you last. But it would seem, according to the Paris Hall of Records, that you actually went through with it. You must be very cross with us, Matthias, to go against what your mother and father wish for you—and for our country.”
She speaks in Dutch, clipped and fast. The few other travelers file off the plane, hurried away by the North Islands airport staff.
It’s not frequently that people visit the country anymore, as fascist and isolationist as the government has become. On the phone before I came, Addy pointed out to me that there still is a constitutional government—it’s just been driven into the ground by my father. And my mother has been behind it all, of course. With his body and brain as weak as they are, I think I know the one to blame. And the one to target when Addy and I iron out the details of our plan.
“She’s back at her apartment in Paris. And Adelaide pointed out to me that she’s under the protection of North Islands law, as she is my legal wife. Even if she isn’t royal, there’s no way you can force her to get an abortion—or a divorce.”
My mother huffs, the space between her eyebrows turning bright red. “Are you implying we’d do something to the girl? Or try to get rid of your—” She waves her hand in the air like she’s trying to think of a word. “Love child?”
The team of bodyguards my parents employ lead us back to the royal convoy, and I’m shoved into a seat next to my mother. I steel myself against her comments and prepare for the long fight of this trip. “I’m implying that, yes. I’m fairly certain you’d try to have her deported—at the very least. But while she doesn’t consent to any of your horrible plans, there’s no way to push it through.”
“Everyone has their price, Matthias.”
“Mallory doesn’t. She has her own money—”
“Surprising, given that she went and got herself pregnant to ensnare you into some sort of relationship. I’m astounded at you,” my mother continues. “I thought that you’d gone off to seduce more tourists or run around South America. It was incredibly surprising when we found you at the apartment of some pregnant American girl, tending to her like you were in love with her or some such nonsense.”
She says the word ‘love’ with disdain, like she’s talking about a rare, sexually transmitted disease. I don’t respond. It’s not like my mother knows what that means, and I won’t engage her.
We ride to the Albring Palace in silence. The North Islands are truly beautiful, even as the snow starts to descend on its mountains, and the bays start to become icy. I’d love to bring Mallory here, show her the things that I did like about this place. But it isn’t our place, and there’s no way I’m dragging my wife through this insanity. Not when I watched her bleed just days ago. Not after I saw our perfect son for the first time.
My mother walks into her chambers, casting me a withering look before she goes. “I don’t know why you even came here if it wasn’t to bring the girl to get a legal divorce. We’ll send for the girl and get her here within the week so we can get the separation on the books for the North Islands. That way, you can marry Caryn and take the throne when your father passes away. I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to do this. It’s right for the throne. It’s right for the country. And it’s right for you.”
Instead of responding, I simply smile at my mother, hands clasped in front of me.
The guards help her and my father back to their quarters. My father gives me a simple nod and doesn’t speak. According to Addy, his voice warbles with each word he says now, and the end is near.
“Wonderful. What a lovely idea, mother,” I say. My voice echoes through the marble foyer, and my mother doesn’t look back. “You won’t have any luck getting Mallory to come to this godforsaken place.”
“I have my ways,” she says, not looking back. “Everyone—and everything—has its price. That child of yours is never going to be the rightful heir to this throne. You are, and your child shall be of royal blood.”
I clasp and unclasp my fists, bile rising in my throat. There’s no way this will stand.
I’d give anything to have Mallory here with me, but she won’t respond when they send for her. And she won’t accept any financial bribes. For the first time in my life, I’m confident that I know her. I won’t have to worry about her loyalty—she and I became a team somewhere along the way. And it was solidified in stone when I saw my son for the first time.
No matter what happens, Mal will remain my wife.
And my mother will never win.
***
Late at night, as if on cue, my sister comes to my door and lets herself in. My eyes pop open as I wake from a restless sleep, and she and I sit together on the edge of my bed in the depressing white marble room.
“Mother says she’s sending for Mallory,” I say before Addy has a chance to speak.
“She won’t come—will she?” Addy asks, brushing a long blond lock behind her ear. Her voice is deeply concerned. “She needs to come if you’re going to take the throne, Matthias.”
“No. I don’t believe she will. We had a scare with the pregnancy the other day, and she’s set on staying in Paris for now. If she came, I don’t think she’d give in to the divorce, but she might do it if my mother was able to convince her it was right for me.”
“Believe me. Mother can’t. Father is really quite sick. And she’s focused on keeping him alive so she can stay in power. She hasn’t seen the writing on the wall—and she’s convinced she can keep him alive with money. But if we can get you on the throne—”
I cut her off. “What is it that he has? Father didn’t even speak to me. Not that he ever really has…”
“I’m not entirely sure if he can speak to anyone. To the best of what I can figure, I believe he has throat cancer. And I believe it’s spread through most of his body. With the medicine here, I don’t think there’s but so much anyone can do.”
I sigh, putting my head in my hands. Addy sees an opportunity, but it all depends on father’s health. And it all depends on me. “Addy—about taking the throne—I can’t. I can for a time, but I can’t take it permanently. Mal and I don’t want to have the baby here. And she needs to finish school.”
Addy gives me a concerned look. “I know what she wants, but she married a royal. And she needs to take on the responsibility that goes with it. I can help you rule, get the parliament back in power. I know how to do these things—”
I take her hand in mine. “You do. And if you get married, you can take the throne yourself.”
“That’s not—” Her face grows pale. “That’s not an option for me. I just turned nineteen. And—well, there’s the matter of marriage.”
“Who says a king—or a queen—can’t amend the law?” I sit back and smile, and her face reflects what she’s thinking. “If Father is unfit to rule, I can legally take the throne. I am married, even if my wife is in another country. We can change the law to reflect that a sovereign does not need to be married to rule. It’s an antiquated, out-of-date, ridiculous rule.”
“And after that?” Addy takes a deep breath and lets it out again.
“If you don’t want to marry anyone, you don’t have to. I can abdicate. And you can take the throne. Permanently. Or until you establish the parliament and get them running on their own. I don’t know how to do any of that, Addy. I’m a photographer. You’re a monarch. And if you don’t want to get married—”
“What if I do? But not to—a prince?”
My eyes snap over to her, and an idea that had once crossed my mind now falls into place. “If you do, well, perhaps there’s another law you might wish to change. It is, after all, the twenty-first century, Addy.”
She’s quiet for a while, and we both stare at the wall. I wouldn’t have thought that my sister and I could figure out a way to get past our parents—but people surprise each other all the time.
“We’ll need to be prepared for the storm, M
atthias. We’re changing a country all in one day.”
“Weeks, maybe.”
“People won’t like it.”
“Some people will,” I say. “Trust me. It’s already the future.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mallory
A week after Matthias departed for the North Islands, and I’ve heard very little from him. I pace the apartment.
My belly is now a thing that exists, a bump that’s undeniably hard. In the corner, Emilie sews a pair of thick leggings with a tall waistband. When she’s finished, she holds them up. They’re a deep charcoal color, and they match a shirt with gray swirls that I made just last night. If she and I keep making maternity and baby wear, we might just have a whole line. I keep joking with her that she might make big bucks on fashionable maternity clothes. And I think we’re both considering it.
“Think these leggings will get you through the winter?” she asks.
“They’re fitting for a pregnant princess. I take them out of her hand and go back to my room where I slip them on, along with the shirt I designed. We’ve both thrown ourselves into design since Matthias left. Otherwise, we’d be sitting here wondering what might happen next—and this morning, Emilie might well start bitching about Matthias and his leaving me here. She knows he had to do what he did, but it’s still hard for her not to say anything about his absence. She goes in cycles, going off on Matthias and his monarchy every few days.
When I walk out into the room, I twirl so that Emilie can see our creations. The leggings fit perfectly, and even accentuate the roundness of my seventeen week belly. The shirt matches the rich, deep color of the pants and somehow manages to flatter my figure.
“I think you might be right on the business plan,” she says. She gestures for me to turn again, and then opens her mouth as if to say more. Instead, the melodic ring of my phone interrupts us, making me jump about a foot in the air.
Emilie grabs for it and looks at the caller ID. “It’s Matthias,” she says, handing the phone over to me. “Or someone using his phone.”
My heart jumps, and I take the phone, my hand shaking. With his being out of contact, the two of us have concocted at least ten different stories, including ones that include his disappearance at the hands of his mother and father. I click the answer button and hold the phone to my ear. “Hello? Matthias? Is that really you?”