by Renna Peak
“The mine may very well be destroyed. And if that’s the case, the welfare of the Montovian populace has been infringed upon. And she…” His gaze slides over to me for a moment before moving back to William. “She has to accept her role in that.”
“She had no role in that!”
The king’s eyes widen in shock, probably because his son had the nerve to raise his voice to him—in the king’s own office, no less. He recovers quickly, though, sitting again and motioning for his son to do the same. “Stephan—”
William spins around and moves so quickly to us that I think both Stephan and I are a bit taken off guard.
He tears Stephan’s hand away from me before he twists the man’s arm behind his back. “If you so much as lay a finger on her again, I’ll murder you—”
“Enough.” If his curt tone wasn’t enough, the way the king slams his hands on his desk definitely gets William’s attention.
William spins back around. “Father, my wife is pregnant. I’ll not have her—”
“How can you be certain?” He tilts his head, flicking his eyes over to me again for a moment. “I’ve heard tales of women being less than…honest about such things.”
“Have our palace physicians check her then—”
“And even if they did, how can you be so certain that it’s yours?”
William’s mouth opens as though he means to say something, but I can see by the way the color drains from his face that it’s something he hasn’t considered.
The king nods. “As I suspected.” He glances at me again before turning his gaze back to William. “Leopold fell for a similar game not so long ago.” He lets out a long breath, folding his hands in front of him. His voice lowers, though I’m not certain who he means to keep from hearing him. “We don’t have time for any of this, son. Her…pregnancy…is not the priority right now. Once we’ve dealt with Rosvalia, we can figure out how we’ll deal with…her.”
Stephan grins. “That sounds like a very wise plan, Your Majesty. I’ll have her taken away—”
“You will not touch her.” William turns again to face Stephan. He sounds almost defeated, but not quite, as he turns back to face his father. “If you take her away, I’ll go with her. We’ll have whatever tests you want done to prove the paternity of the children she carries inside her. But you’re not taking her away from me again.”
“Children…” The king’s voice is flat, and he seems to be considering the word for a moment. “I suppose she is a twin herself, isn’t she?” He glances over at me before looking back up at his son. “But as I’ve said, we have more urgent matters to attend to. And I’ll not have her interfering. She’ll be considered a political prisoner, and unlike the way they treat prisoners in her country, we’ll treat her with the utmost respect and dignity.”
“No.” William shakes his head slowly. “No. No. No.” He pounds his fist on the desk. “Why won’t you listen? She is my wife. She is carrying my children.” His eyes widen as though he’s gone mad. “I love her, Father. And if you take her as a prisoner, you’ll have to take me, too.”
William
I stare at my father, refusing to back down. I’ve already allowed him to tear me away from Justine once—I won’t let it happen again.
My father’s hard eyes bore into mine. Why did Andrew have to leave? He’s the only one who might be able to settle this without making it worse. But for once, my blasted brother isn’t here.
“I mean it, Father,” I say. “I won’t step down. I will protect her with my life if need be. Lock me up. Make me a prisoner—I don’t care. I’ll stand by my wife.” My father’s lips tighten, but before he can say a word, I rush on. “Do whatever you damn well please, but know that reacting in this way makes you no better than Maximilian.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. The hard anger in my father’s eyes turns to pure fury.
“Get out of my sight. NOW!” he yells, throwing a pointed finger toward the door. “Out!”
I’ve never heard him use that tone before—not even with my brother Leo, who’s caused my father more than his share of distress. I grab Justine’s arm, pulling her away from Stephan and tugging her out of the office. She hurries quickly along beside me.
It’s not until we’re out in the corridor that I realize my father’s valet hasn’t followed. For the moment, at least, both of us are free—but how long will that last?
Maybe my father actually took my words to heart, I think. Maybe he realized that keeping Justine prisoner will only make matters worse—and reduce him to the level of his sworn enemy.
But I don’t intend to wait around and find out. My father could send Stephan—or members of the Royal Guard—after us at any moment. Which means, short of leaving the country, we only have one defense.
“Come on,” I tell Justine, taking her hand. “Quickly.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the only person in this palace who has any sense. To my mother.”
We find her in her office, a bright, sunlit room from which she conducts the household affairs. Judging by the number of staff members coming in and out, she has her hands full this morning. The moment she sees us, though, she drops everything.
“Please, give us a moment,” she says to the three servants around her desk. They quickly retreat, and I pull the door shut behind them, giving us some privacy. My mother sweeps around the desk, coming toward us with open arms. She grabs me and pulls me against her chest, hugging me tightly.
“Oh, my fool of a son,” she says against my shoulder. “Andrew told me what you did. Going into that mine like that! You know exactly how to give your mother a heart attack, don’t you?” She pulls back slightly so that she can look me in the face.
“We had to,” I tell her simply. “There were lives at risk.”
She nods, admiration mixed with the worry on her face. “And you wouldn’t be the William I know if you had simply left them to their fate. But that doesn’t mean I can’t chastise you for your recklessness.”
She releases me, turning to Justine next.
“And you, my dear,” she says, taking my wife’s hands. “I had a feeling I hadn’t seen the last of you. Am I to understand you have news?”
“We’ve remarried,” I tell her. “And Justine is expecting twins.”
“That’s wonderful news.” My mother smiles. “And we’re all in need of some wonderful news right now.”
My jaw tightens. “Father doesn’t seem to think it’s so wonderful.”
“Your father is under a lot of pressure right now. The threat of war…” My mother shakes her head, a sadness filling her eyes. “He carries the lives of so many people on his shoulders. The weight of an entire country. One false step and he will be responsible for the destruction of everything he loves.” She’s still holding Justine’s hand, and I see her give it a squeeze. “He’s frightened by what this means for our country. And after all the deceptions of these last few months, he’s bound to be…suspicious. Not that I agree with him, mind you, but he’s doing the best he can. That’s all any of us can do.” In spite of her kind tone and affectionate smiles, I finally notice the worry in her face—the tightness around her mouth, the tension in her eyes. She’s as upset and terrified as the rest of us, but she’s trying not to let it show.
She notices me staring. Abruptly, she releases Justine’s hands and coughs.
“I’ll speak with your father,” she says. “In the meantime, I’m sure the two of you must be starving and exhausted. I’ll send down to the kitchen for some food. You’re welcome to stay in my suite for the time being.”
Honestly, I don’t know what the best course of action is right now—part of me wants to stay out of the way and out of sight, beneath the notice of my father until his temper cools. But part of me can’t bear the thought of sitting still—my country and Justine’s are both at stake, and the safety of my wife and future children all hinge on what happens next. I can’t just bury my head in the sand. I need to
do something. To make this right somehow. Nothing matters but protecting the precious family beside me.
I look down at Justine. There are dark circles under her eyes, and she’s as pale as she was when we arrived at the palace. When was the last time either of us slept? I can’t remember. It’s a wonder that either of us can stand right now. In spite of the restlessness vibrating through me, there’s a heaviness in my limbs and behind my eyes.
“Let’s go sleep for a little while,” I say gently. “Surely the world can spare us for a few hours?”
Justine nods, her hand going involuntarily to her stomach. “Sleep would be good.”
“Just go next door,” my mother says. “Take my bed. I’ll wake you if there’s any news.”
Wrapping my arm around Justine’s waist, I lead her out of the room and into my mother’s suite. Now that I’ve acknowledged how exhausted I am, the feeling is oppressive—I can hardly seem to put one foot in front of the other. It’s a miracle that we manage to make it to the bed at all, and we both tumble onto the mattress without even bothering to pull back the quilts.
I tug Justine into my arms, holding her close to me.
“We’re safe now,” I tell her, but I’m not sure whether I’m trying to comfort her or myself.
She nestles close to me, wrapping her arms around my chest. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “For standing up to your father for me.”
“There was no other choice,” I say against her hair. “You’re my wife. You’re the other half of my soul. And I refuse to let anything come between us ever again. We’re part of each other, now, and nothing can separate us. I won’t let it.”
She presses her face against my chest. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I tell her. More than you can ever understand. More than I can put into words.
And with my hands tangled in her hair, I fall asleep.
I’m not sure how long we slumber like that, wrapped around each other. But it feels like only a moment before someone is shaking me, jarring me awake again.
Head throbbing, I open my eyes. My eyelids feel impossibly heavy. As my vision unblurs, I see my mother leaning over me, a frown on her lips as she gives me another shake.
“Quickly,” she says. “Something’s happened.”
I’m immediately wide awake. In my arms, Justine has started to stir, and I shake her gently as I struggle to sit up. The look on my mother’s face has my stomach in knots.
“What is it?” I demand. My mind is already racing through the possibilities. “Is it Father? Has his heart—?”
“No, your father is fine,” my mother says quickly. “But Justine’s father isn’t.”
Justine sits up with a start, her eyes wide. She pushes her tangled hair out of her eyes. “What happened?”
My mother reaches out and places her hand over Justine’s, her eyes full of sadness. “I’ve only just heard. You’ll need to go speak with Edmund for more details, but… I’m so sorry, my dear. Your father is dead.”
Justine
I’m certain I’ve misheard Queen Penelope. There’s no way my father can be dead. “You’re mistaken. Or…or it’s a ruse.”
William’s gaze snaps to mine. “That has to be it.”
“I don’t…I don’t know what’s going on. Not with any specificity.” The queen sits on the bed beside me. “But I don’t believe it’s a ruse.”
I blink at her a few times, still not believing the words.
“You should go and speak with Edmund, my dear.” The pity in her gaze is clear. “He may know more by now.”
I’m dizzy, unable to think. And my heart feels as though it’s going to race out of my chest. “How? When?”
The queen shakes her head. “I don’t know the details.” Her gaze moves over to her son. “You should both go and speak with your father.”
William nods a few times before he slides his arm around my waist. “We should go, Justine.”
I nod a few times, but I still am not sure any of this is real. William helps me to slide off the bed, and he keeps his arm around my waist as he leads me out of his mother’s suite and into the corridor.
I can barely manage more than a shuffle. My breath is hitched in my chest and my mind is so jumbled I can’t form any real thoughts.
“We’re safe now.” William looks down at me. “I know it’s difficult news, Justine, I do. But if this is true…” He squeezes his arm around me a little tighter. “It means we’re finally safe.”
I can only manage a few shakes of my head. “If…if this is true…” Tears fill my eyes, and I’m not certain where they’ve come from. If my father is really dead, of course I should be sad. My entire country will be in mourning, even if the man was a horrible monarch. But my emotions seem to be coming from somewhere else entirely.
I shake my head, trying to clear some of the cloudiness from it. “Don’t you see? If my father is dead, everything is so much worse.”
“How could it possibly be worse? We’ll be avoiding a war…” He pauses for a moment, probably as he realizes the implications of what has actually happened.
“It means my brother is now king.” I keep my gaze fixed ahead of me. “I’m no longer in line for the throne at all, William.”
“Perhaps—”
I cut him off with a stern shake of my head. “There is nothing else to say. If the world thought my father a tyrant, I’m certain they’ve seen nothing yet.”
My lips press together as I try to hold back a sob. I’ve denied that I wanted my birthright for so long, I thought I’d come to believe it. But I suppose somewhere deep inside me, I’d always hoped that somehow, some way, I might still take my rightful place as the leader of my country one day.
But now that chance is gone. Even if the children growing inside me are boys—even if there were four of them instead of two—it’s too late.
“I…” William’s voice falters. “I…”
“There’s nothing to say. My brother will likely exile me. And he’ll be much more likely to actually finish the war my father has begun.”
“We don’t know that. We don’t really know anything. Maybe…maybe you were right. Maybe this is only a ruse.”
“Maybe.”
William drops his arm from my waist as we near his father’s office, instead threading his fingers through mine. We stand outside the double doors for a few moments before he turns to me. “Are you ready?”
I give him a slight shake of my head. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to hear what his father is going to tell me. “No. But we should go in, anyway.”
He nods, frowning, before he knocks on the door.
Stephan answers again, looking us both up and down before he motions us through.
I’m sure I look a disheveled mess—I’m not even certain how long we were asleep before the queen came to wake us up. And I’m wearing the same clothes I was when I crawled through the back passages in the Rosvalian palace to rescue my husband—was that only last night? So much has already happened today, I’m not sure I can handle any more without cracking.
The stout man leads us back to the king’s office, knocking three times on the heavy wooden door before opening it and motioning us through. He closes the door as soon as we enter, staying on the other side.
William looks down at me, and I can’t read the strange mixture of emotions I see in his eyes. Pity, love, and it almost seems like a bit of disappointment.
The king is half-turned to the wall behind his desk. When he glances over his shoulder, I can see he’s on the phone.
He motions for us to sit, and William helps me into one of the seats in front of the large desk before sitting beside me.
The king grunts into the phone a few times—I can’t hear what the person on the other end is saying, but the sounds he makes in response sound like his agreement with something.
After a few minutes, he turns to face us, setting his phone on the desk in front of him. “What have you heard?”
I’m n
ot certain I can speak at all, so it’s a welcome relief when William answers for me. “We’ve only heard that King Maximilian has died.”
The king’s gaze seems to be fixed on me, even though it’s clear he’s speaking to his son. “That is the news we’ve received from Rosvalia.”
William shakes his head. “My wife believes it may be a ruse—”
“As did I.” King Edmund’s frown deepens as he stares at me. “But I no longer believe that to be the case.”
“Father—”
“Your mother has admitted fault, Justine.” His expression doesn’t even flicker. “We haven’t heard what means were used—”
“Her mother?” The sound of shock is evident in William’s voice, but I can’t seem to look over at him. His father has my gaze locked with his. “That makes it all the more suspicious if you ask me—”
“I didn’t ask you, William.” The king lets out a long breath. “This means your brother will now be king.”
I give him a slight nod—it’s really all I can manage. So many thoughts are racing around my head, it’s a wonder I haven’t passed out.
My mother had something to do with this? The thought itself seems outrageous. My mother and father have so little to do with each other, I can’t even imagine how my mother might have gotten close enough to him to do anything.
And my father is dead. That notion still does not seem real in any measurable way. My father—who only last night promised to tear my children away from me—is dead. The man who has taken so much from me—stolen something so precious it nearly destroyed me—is dead.
I can say it as many times as I want to myself, and it still does not seem real. Even if I saw his body before me, I’m not sure I would believe it.
And my brother…my brother will be king. King Reginald.
That might be the most painful news of all. My brother seems to have a hatred for Montovia that runs even deeper than my father’s, and I’m sure he’ll be extremely pleased with himself that he’ll be sitting atop the throne when the war begins.