He looks at me in a way that says he doesn’t believe me as he watches me continue to adjust my appearance for this morning’s ceremony.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I know he’s bothered by how withdrawn from him I’ve been. I know what I’ve seen, but I cannot rationalize the glimpses of Suzanne I’ve had. Not that it matters, because my husband thinks I’m insane. I can’t talk to him about this because he’ll just lock me away.
“Yes,” I answer, even though I feel his eyes boring into me. I ramble on to keep him happy-ishand protect my secrets… for now. “I’m just nervous about today’s ceremony.” And the one at the end of the week where his advisors and witnesses will watch me commit a marital act to ensure the line of succession.
“It’ll be all right,” he says, leaning down to press his lips against my forehead. “By this time next week this will all be a memory.”
“And I’ll probably never be able to look Craig or Leo in the eye ever again,” I mutter.
“Does it shame you to have others know that you let your husband fuck you?” he bites out.
“It’s not that—”
“Then what is it?” he thunders.
“It’s embarrassing,” I shout. “I have to be naked in front of others.”
What am I doing? Why am I picking a fight with him over this?
“So am I.”
“It’s different for you.”
“Aye. I would shout to the world that I feel most like a king when I’m balls deep inside of my queen,” he says before letting out a breath and giving up his fight. I release the breath that I’ve been holding. “It’s part of my culture, my histories, and my traditions. I’ve always known that it was coming and you—”
“Didn’t,” I finish for him.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“It’s okay.”
“It will be, hen,” he says before taking the makeup brush out of my hand and tossing it down onto the vanity top. “You look beautiful. You don’t need to fussanymore.”
He holds his hand out for me, and I take it, letting him help me up from my vanity bench. I’m already dressed, makeup done in my usual soft pinks and browns. My dark hair is twisted back in a loose chignon at the top of my neck. My dress is a light blue Chanel slip dress with an off-white sweater over it, the iconic large pearl buttons left open.
And Rhys is right, I can’t hide from this forever.
Of course, he looks perfect in another military uniform with extra sashes and medals that denote him King, the top brass of everything. He makes it look so easy to be confident in this role, but as he said, he’s had his entire life to prepare for it. He was literally made for this.
As for the distance between us, it’ll take time for me to adjust to the fact that I am now a bit of an island. Before, I was alone but I still had my friends and the bookstore and my uncles. Now, I’m not sure who I can truly trust to confide in.
Saoirse and her father would just as soon throw me from the battlements atop the castle before helping me and honestly, I wouldn’t trust any kind of about face from them after all they’ve done.
Dahlia and Maeve like me, I know they do, and I feel safe with them. But they answer to Rhys and they always will. He is the King after all, and if I tell him I’m now being haunted by the woman I swear I saw murdered, but no one else did, he will absolutely shipme off to a mental hospital, no matter how much he might profess his love for me.
“You’re going to have to tell me eventually,” he threatens mildly. “I do no’ like this distance between us.”
“I know.”
“The only thing I want between us is my cock and your cunt,” he says.
“Rhys,” I start. I have to get out of this conversation before he derails me with sex. “We’re going to be late.”
“They canno’ start without me, hen.”
“That is true,” I mutter, and he chuckles as he leads me to the door.