The Wedding Night They Never Had by Jackie Ashenden, Millie Adams

CHAPTER NINE

INARASATINone of the formal sitting rooms in the palace, her head aching. One of the palace historians had been giving her a lecture on the history of the de Leon royal family for the past couple of hours but she had a horrible feeling that, no matter how hard she tried, she was going to remember precisely none of it.

Not that she hadn’t tried. She really had because, after Cassius had told her about his family and the legacy he was trying to carry on, she’d decided she had to make this work. Because, like it or not, she was part of that legacy. And she couldn’t let her part be a chaotic queen smashing glasses, forgetting names and dashing out of the palace when things went wrong.

That morning, when she’d found him in his study, she’d automatically treated him the way she had when he’d used to visit her, putting a casual hand on his back and wanting to know what he was doing. But he’d stiffened and then gone distant, shrugging her hand away. Becoming the King.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have got angry, but the way he’d shrugged off her touch, after being so hungry for it the night before, had hurt. He was a different man when he was the King, and she didn’t like it. And, what was more, she was tired of it.

She shouldn’t have called him a martyr, though; that had been far too blunt. Especially given what he’d told her about his brother, about his parents. About how he was to blame for it. She’d wanted to know more, to talk to him about it, but he’d turned and walked out before she could.

She’d thought he might say more that night, when she’d been summoned to his rooms, but conversation clearly had not been on his mind. She’d stepped into his bedroom to find him pacing before the fire and she’d barely greeted him before he’d crossed the room, taken her in his arms and then taken her to bed.

And he’d kept her there all night.

That had set the pattern for the past week. Her days were full of ‘queen training’, as she liked to think of it, while her nights were full of him and ‘wife training’. The wife training she liked. She took to those lessons enthusiastically, and she never forgot them either, because learning how to please him pleased her too.

But he didn’t talk more about his family or about himself and, even though he’d check in with her during whatever lesson she was having at the time, the only conversation they had was about how she was getting on and whether she was finding it difficult. He was always pleasant and calm and, though he was less condescending, he was no less distant.

That part she didn’t like. That part she wanted to change. It wasn’t the King she wanted, it was the man he was when he was with her in the depths of the night, warm and vital and hungry. Except she didn’t know how to reach that man.

Inara bent over her notepad, hoping the historian wouldn’t see as she closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples, trying to get rid of the headache.

‘The Queen is tired,’ a deep voice said. ‘I think that’s enough for one day.’

Inara looked up sharply.

Cassius stood in the doorway, dressed in an immaculate dark suit, white shirt and a tie the same smoky gold as his eyes. He glanced briefly at her, his expression impenetrable, then strode over to the historian and had a brief murmured conversation before the man nodded and went out, leaving Inara and Cassius alone.

‘I’m all right,’ Inara said, annoyed by her headache and the peremptory way Cassius had dismissed the man. ‘I was just tired.’

Cassius came over to the uncomfortable couch she was sitting on, giving her a critical once-over. ‘You’re not all right. You’re wearing those contacts again and I can see the circles under your eyes.’

‘And who’s fault is that?’ she said crossly. ‘And as for the contacts—’

‘They’re not needed,’ he finished for her, still infuriatingly calm. ‘I told you that you could wear your glasses. Why aren’t you?’

‘I was trying to get used to the contacts.’ She rubbed at her eyes. ‘Give me a few days and it’ll get better.’

‘Inara.’

‘What?’ She glared at him.

He stared back, his gaze very direct. ‘I’ve been talking with people and they all say the same thing. That you have difficulty concentrating, that you don’t retain the information you’re given and that you’re finding it difficult.’

Anger wound through her, along with a certain defensiveness. She’d hoped to have improved since last week, especially as she was now trying even harder, and him finding out that she hadn’t was galling.

‘I’m trying,’ she said flatly. ‘But all this protocol and etiquette and other royal stuff...’ She stared down at the notepad on which she’d written no notes whatsoever, flashing back to the endless social etiquette drills her mother had put her through. ‘Or maybe it’s just me.’

There was a moment’s silence and then, unexpectedly, Cassius said, ‘It’s not just you.’

She glanced up at him, surprised. ‘Oh?’

‘It was...difficult for me too.’

His expression gave nothing away, and yet she heard something almost reluctant in his voice, as if he hadn’t meant to say it.

Interesting. That was not what she’d thought he’d say. A memory came back to her, of him in his study and how he’d mentioned that he’d hated all the rules and restrictions placed on him. Was that part of it?

‘Why?’ she asked, curious now. ‘I’d have thought it would have been easy for you, when you were brought up with all of this.’

‘Just because I was brought up with it, doesn’t mean it was easy.’ He sat down beside her, sadly not close enough to touch; during the day it was obvious he preferred some separation between them, which she found annoying, yet she wasn’t quite brave enough to push it. Not yet.

‘My father always insisted on stillness and absolute attention,’ he went on. ‘He said it was rude to fidget and to look bored, and that one of the first rules of being a good ruler was to be patient and attentive to whomever was speaking.’

Cassius let out a breath. ‘But I could never sit still or concentrate, and I found all the protocol and royal etiquette we had to learn boring. Caspian never had a problem with it, only me.’ He glanced at her, an unexpected glint in his eyes. ‘I used to escape into the gardens to hide with the head gardener. He’d tell me all about the plants he was putting in the ground, and how they grew and what they needed, and I found that far more interesting.’

Inara didn’t want to move. She didn’t even want to breathe. He wasn’t the King now. She could tell. He was Cassius, sitting beside her, talking to her the way he used to. She wasn’t sure what had prompted the change, but one thing she did know: she wanted to keep him like this for as long as possible.

‘So is that why you have all those plants in your study?’ She kept the question neutral. ‘You said they helped your mind settle.’

‘Yes, they do. I still remember telling my father that I wanted to be a gardener, not a prince.’ There was a note of dry humour in his voice. ‘He wasn’t impressed.’

Inara smiled, thinking of Cassius as a little boy, digging earnestly in the dirt. ‘I’d imagine not.’

‘You need something similar, I think.’ There was a shrewd look in his eyes. ‘And you already have it, don’t you? Numbers are your escape.’

A little jolt went through her. She hadn’t expected him to know what mathematics meant to her, let alone to have thought about it. They’d discussed it, of course, but she just hadn’t expected him to remember.

‘Yes,’ she said, her cheeks heating with a ridiculous blush. ‘I suppose they are. Numbers feel easier than dealing with people.’

‘Easier than etiquette and protocol, yes?’

She nodded. ‘And talking to people and all that...social stuff.’

‘Yes, I remember. You found that difficult.’

A warm feeling blossomed in her heart. He’d remembered their conversations, when she’d chattered artlessly about how painful her upbringing had been.

‘It still is, to be honest.’ Inara picked up her pen and fiddled with it. ‘And Mama didn’t help. She watched everything I did and always had a criticism. It was always, “Stand up straight, Inara. Smile. Be more graceful. If you can’t be beautiful, then for God’s sake at least be interesting.”.’ She stopped, her throat tight and, though she could feel Cassius’s gaze on her, she didn’t want to look at him. She couldn’t bear the thought of him measuring her against the same impossible standard her mother had once used.

Firstly, would he really do that? And secondly, do you care?

Perhaps he wouldn’t. His standards for himself were high, but he didn’t put those onto other people. And, as for whether she cared or not, sadly, she did.

Be brave. You’re stronger than that.

It was true. She brought a king to his knees every night. Surely she could look that same king in the eye during the day, unafraid of his judgment?

Inara lifted her chin and looked at him. ‘I couldn’t do any of those things. I couldn’t stand up straight or smile or be graceful. I couldn’t be beautiful, and I could certainly never be interesting. That’s why they lost patience with me. That’s why they gave me to Stefano Castelli.’

Cassius’s gaze was steady and direct, a familiar heat burning in it. ‘If you’re expecting me to agree with your mother’s opinions, then you’re going to be disappointed,’ he said levelly. ‘Because I’m glad you couldn’t do all those things. I’m glad you failed. And I’m glad that you were given to Stefano Castelli, because otherwise you wouldn’t have come to my limo that night. And you wouldn’t now be my wife.’

The warmth in her chest blossomed further.

‘Not that I would call any of that a failure,’ he went on. ‘I’ve always thought you were interesting, and indeed beautiful, though I shouldn’t have thought that when you were sixteen.’ He paused, holding her gaze. ‘You’re even more beautiful now.’

Her eyes prickled, the warmth flowing through her. How strange that being told such lovely things should make her feel like crying.

She wanted to say something—maybe that he was wrong, that only at night in his arms she felt it might be true—but her voice had somehow become stuck in her throat.

Not that she needed to speak, because he continued, ‘I’ve been going about this wrong. I’ve been forcing you into all the same things as your mother.’

‘You’re not forcing me,’ she managed thickly. ‘I’m doing all of this because I want to.’

‘Why?’

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he hadn’t exactly given her a choice, but then that wasn’t quite true, was it? She could have said no. She wasn’t sixteen any more, with all her choices made by her parents. She was a grown woman and her choices were her own, and being here in this palace, with him, was a choice she’d made.

Inara swallowed and gave him the truth. ‘Why do you think? Because it’s important to you, and what’s important to you is important to me.’

He said nothing. He just stared at her, his expression utterly impenetrable.

‘You said your reign was your memorial to your family, your legacy,’ Inara went on, needing to say it. ‘And I don’t want to be the weak link in that legacy. I want you to have a queen you can be proud of, because let’s face it... You didn’t exactly choose me. You got stuck with me.’

Some intense emotion flickered over his face, but it was gone before she could name it. He looked away, then abruptly pushed himself off the couch and walked over to one of the long windows that looked out over the formal gardens. He stood there tensely a moment, then said, ‘That’s true. I didn’t choose you. But I wouldn’t say I was “stuck” with you.’ He turned around, his gaze suddenly fierce. ‘You’re not a weak link either. I’m already proud of you.’

The warmth in her chest felt like the first touch of sun after a long, cold winter.

‘But I haven’t done anything except forget people’s names, smash glasses and run away.’

‘You’ve done something.’ His gaze intensified. ‘You’re here. You did your best to learn and, even when it doesn’t quite work, you’re still here and you’re still trying. That’s tenacity, Inara. And resilience and courage. And queens need all of those things.’

The sun rose higher inside her, warming her straight through, thawing something that had been frozen in the centre of her soul.

He meant it. He was proud of what she was doing.

She opened her mouth to thank him, but then he said suddenly, ‘This protocol and etiquette you’re learning is nonsense. And we’re wasting your talents. Numbers are your strength and Aveiras can benefit from it.’ He gave her a narrow look then strode back over to the couch again. ‘I should be introducing you to our finance minister and you and he can talk economics.’

Inara hadn’t done much with economics but it couldn’t be worse than what she was doing now. ‘I thought you needed someone to do all the social engagements and be gracious and talk to people.’

‘Yes, but I can do that. The people stuff is my strength.’ He gave her a sudden brief smile, like a shaft of sunlight glinting through cloud. ‘This is a partnership. We share the load.’

Her heart throbbed in her chest and impulsively she reached out to him. ‘You really mean that?’

He glanced down at her hand then took it in his, threading his fingers through hers. Warmth travelled up her arm and into her heart, making a home for itself. ‘Yes, I mean that.’ He looked at her. ‘You have many skills, Inara. We were just focusing on the wrong ones.’

Her heart warmed. Everything inside her warmed.

‘Maybe that’s what happened with you too,’ she said unthinkingly. ‘Your father should have concentrated on the things you did well, not the things you didn’t.’

He stilled, like a man carved from stone. ‘And what things do I do well?’ The words were so determinedly neutral that she could tell this was important to him. Strange. She hadn’t thought her opinion would matter too much to him.

‘Well, you are good with people. And you’re very protective. You notice things. You’re observant. And you’re very patient. You care about your subjects and your country, all the people you’re responsible for. Their well-being matters to you.’ She took a breath and smiled. ‘You have serious green fingers. You’re also extremely good at kissing—which not many people know about you, I don’t think. Or at least, they’d better not.’ Another pause. ‘You also have a wicked sense of humour and when you smile the whole world stops.’

He stared at her, and it seemed as if he might say something, but he didn’t.

Instead, after a moment, he gently removed his fingers from hers and walked away without a word. Leaving Inara sitting there with the warmth of his touch lingering on her skin, while a cold thread wound through the warmth in her heart.

Cassius dealt with a few last pressing issues then turned his attention to the grand ball he was in the process of organising in order to formally introduce and welcome Inara as Queen. This one was to be even more formal than the one he’d held a couple of weeks earlier, as this one would not only include heads of state from other countries, but an appearance on the balcony of the palace where the people could welcome her.

The balcony appearance was a grand tradition in Aveiras; it had to be done and possibly was both the easiest and the hardest of the formal occasions. Easy because it required nothing but standing there and waving, hard because the Aveiran people weren’t shy when it came to voicing their displeasure if they didn’t like something.

And Cassius wanted them to like Inara. He wanted them to welcome her. She wasn’t the kind of queen his mother had been. She was...different. But over the past week he’d begun to think that different might be a good thing. Since he’d stopped the etiquette and protocol lessons, and all the other nonsense, replacing it instead with meetings with his finance ministry and the various economic branches of his parliament, she’d blossomed.

Money and numbers bored him to tears, but not her. She’d taken to it like a duck to water, involving herself in all aspects of Aveiras’s economy, using her clear, logical brain to work on some of the country’s thorny financial difficulties, and then pointing out several new ways they could fill the treasury. She had a gift not only for numbers, but for money and the financial markets, which would benefit Aveiras considerably.

He’d continued to oversee her progress, and for the past week the only feedback he’d had about her was glowing praise of what a brilliant thinker she was, how perceptive she was when it came to economics and how she had the potential to revolutionise the country’s fiscal policy.

His finance ministers loved her, and he knew he shouldn’t take pride in seeing her walk by him, sometimes deep in conversation with a small group of ministers and advisors, but he did. Especially when it was clear her stylists hadn’t caught her in time and she was dressed in one of her floaty dresses with her hair loose over her shoulders.

Sometimes he’d even stand in the corridor, waiting to see if she’d notice him as she swept by, but most of the time she didn’t. And neither did his ministers. It amused him that they’d be so deep in conversation they didn’t even notice their king. However, he was less than amused when Inara didn’t notice him. Which was new. Most of the time he found the constant attention from people tiring, but apparently that didn’t extend to her.

Cassius frowned as he went over the plans for the ball, not seeing them as his mind drifted once more to his wife. His pretty little fairy of a wife who couldn’t care less about clothes or balls or appearances, who could balance a budget in seconds and who was as hungry for him as he was for her when she came to him every night.

He’d told her a week ago, when he’d found her red-eyed and miserable in one of the formal sitting rooms, that they were a match, and even though he hadn’t thought so initially, he was beginning to see the truth of that now.

When he’d looked at her that day, the feedback about her from his consultants filling his head, he’d seen himself all those years ago trying to sit through endless lessons about things that hadn’t interested him, cudgelling his reluctant brain into retaining dates and names and arcane, pointless protocol. Trying and always failing.

At the time he’d thought there was something wrong with him, as he’d never had any issues concentrating or remembering things when it came to scientific plant names and what specific conditions each plant needed to grow. But there hadn’t been anything wrong with him.

Because look at him now, doing everything his father had, everything Caspian had, and doing it successfully. He’d overcome his failings, his flaws, but he wouldn’t put Inara through the same mill by insisting. Because, if there was one thing he’d learned during the last three years, it was that people performed better when you focused on and utilised their strengths, rather than fixing their failings. If people were happy and enjoying themselves, then the resulting confidence boost tended to minimise those failings anyway.

And you? What about you?

He was irrelevant. He was the King and his enjoyment, his happiness, didn’t matter.

Not that you deserve any.

Cassius abruptly pushed away the plans he’d been staring at. This train of thought was pointless. Perhaps some time in the garden was needed to settle himself. He hadn’t yet told Inara about the ball, which he should have done, but she’d seemed happy and much more settled recently and he didn’t want to upset her.

Since when have her feelings become important to you? If yours aren’t relevant, then hers aren’t either.

Cassius shoved his chair back and got to his feet, trying to ignore that thought. Because it was wrong. Of course her feelings mattered, as did everyone’s. The King’s didn’t because he was the leader, the figurehead. He was the example everyone looked to, the example everyone followed. You couldn’t have feelings as a king. You couldn’t be a person, not in the same way as everyone else. Inara had accused him of being a martyr, but she was wrong. He hadn’t nailed himself to a cross when he’d taken his crown. He’d taken it willingly. And he was at peace with his role.

So at peace you walked out of a ball you should have remained at to follow a woman because you were angry. And then you took her to bed because you wanted her. And then you stopped important, vital protocol lessons to make her happy. And now you can’t concentrate on the ball you’re supposed to be organising because all you can think about is her...

Cassius gritted his teeth as he strode down the echoing marble hallways of the palace, not wanting to acknowledge the truth of all of that, yet not able to ignore it either. Because it was true. There had been minimal fallout from the ball, but only because of the stellar work of his PR team.

And, with another formal ball coming up, halting Inara’s protocol lessons had possibly been a mistake. He should insist she continue with them. He should get stricter with her, not relax the rules. Necessity had finally made all his father’s lessons stick; perhaps he should try the same tactics with her.

No, this isn’t about her. It’s about you. You taking her to bed every night. You indulging your own appetites, your weaknesses, your flaws...

Tension gripped him as he approached his private apartments, giving a curt nod to his guards as they opened the doors for him and he stepped through. He’d thought he could keep what happened at night in his bed separate from his duties during the day, that he could keep the man separate from the King, but it was becoming very clear that was impossible. Yet he’d already tried denying himself, and that hadn’t worked, so what else could he do?

Perhaps it was his need to hold her after they’d made love that was the issue. His need to drown in her scent and listen to the sound of her breathing. The strange desperation he had to get closer, even when he knew what he should do was keep his distance. He could allow himself a physical release, but anything more, anything emotional, was...wrong.

It was his emotions that had led him astray, after all, his frustration as child and then his impatience with the restrictions imposed on him as a young man. His anger at his father’s continual disapproval.

Perhaps he needed to limit Inara’s visits. Perhaps he needed to turn her away or not send for her. At least for a little while, or maybe just not every night, enough to remind himself that his own desires were not paramount. And maybe that would help him be stricter with her during the day. He couldn’t compromise the legacy he was trying to build. Not again.

He came to the door of his study, noting with displeasure that it was open, which meant that one of the cleaning staff hadn’t closed it properly. Annoying. He kept the room at a specific temperature optimal for his plants, as several didn’t like the cool of the rest of the palace, which meant he preferred to keep the doors closed.

Irritated, he made a mental note to remind staff to always close the door, then he stepped inside himself, closing it firmly behind him.

Only to discover that the room wasn’t empty.

Inara sat in one of the blue velvet arm chairs. She had a stack of papers on her knees, some of them overflowing onto the floor, and various pens scattered on the cushions next to her. On a small side table beside the arm chair stood three teacups, all with different liquids in them; the small orchid he kept there had been shoved unceremoniously to one side.

Today she wore a pencil skirt and a plain white blouse, but the pencil skirt was creased, the blouse crumpled and coming unbuttoned. Her hair was in what had probably once been a neat chignon, but was now half-coming down, silvery wisps haloing her face and one long lock draping over her shoulder. A pair of high-heeled pumps was scattered on the carpet in front of the arm chair, as if she’d just kicked them off and left them where they lay.

She should have looked like a disaster, the very antithesis of a queen, and yet... All he could think about was what one of his financial team had told him the day before, raving about how approachable the Queen was, how accessible. Making it obvious that Cassius’s parents suffered in comparison.

It had shocked him. His father had always been held up as the ideal, and Caspian had followed in his footsteps. But it could never be said that Cassius’s father had been either accessible or approachable. Be respectful, his father had always said, but maintain your distance. Allowing people to get too familiar undermined your authority, and above all a king had to maintain his authority.

People had respected his father, yet he hadn’t been an easy man to get to know. He had been reserved, never demonstrative. He had been gracious and perfectly pleasant to his subjects, but distant, remaining a cipher, an enigma, even to his sons.

There was nothing enigmatic about Inara. She sat in his study, in his armchair, with her shoes off, papers everywhere, half-drunk cups of tea crowding out his plant, her hair coming down. And yet... She wasn’t distant. She wasn’t chilly. She was approachable. Accessible.

She was human.

His heart clenched tightly for no apparent reason. And then she looked up from her papers, seeing him, her beautiful mouth curving in a smile like the sun rising. And the tightness in his heart constricted further, his whole body tensing in a kind of shock. As if her smile was something that hurt him.

‘Oh, hi,’ she said. ‘I hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t concentrate in the Queen’s office, so I thought I’d come in here. It’s such a relaxing space...’ She trailed off. Whatever expression was on his face, it couldn’t be anything good, as her smile faded. ‘I’m sorry,’ she went on quickly. ‘I’ll go. It was probably a bit forward of me to—’

‘Stay.’ His voice came out far rougher than he’d intended. ‘I’ll come back later.’

But Inara’s brow creased. ‘I don’t want to intrude on your space. I’ll stay very quiet, I promise. I always do when I’m working.’

Part of him wanted to leave, to put some distance between her and the tight feeling in his chest, but he also didn’t want to let that feeling win.

‘All right,’ he allowed. ‘But stay quiet.’

She nodded, giving him another quick smile then returning her attention to her stack of papers.

Cassius moved over to begin his inventory of the bonsai and the other plants. And it was with some surprise that he found himself not quite forgetting she was there, but finding her presence...restful. It was strange, given her general level of untidiness, but she was silent while she worked, the only sound the faint rustling of paper and the scratching of her pen.

A companionable silence settled over the room and some time passed...he wasn’t sure how long. The tight feeling in his chest had faded, the snide voice in his head quietening. He watered the last of his plants and then turned, moving over to the arm chair opposite hers and sitting in it.

She didn’t look up, still furiously writing something. Not wanting to interrupt, he relaxed, letting the silence and peace of the room seep into him. After a moment, Inara looked up from her work and gave him another of those heartbreakingly beautiful smiles.

‘You like working with a pen and paper?’ he asked, idly curious. ‘Not a computer?’

‘No. Writing it down myself helps me feel more...connected to whatever problem I’m working on. Which probably sounds weird.’

‘No weirder than a king who likes pottering with his houseplants.’

She laughed, the sound delighting him, as it had been a long time since he’d made a woman laugh.

‘It’s clearly good for you, though.’ She tilted her head, giving him a speculative look. Then she put aside her papers and pen, got out of her chair and came over to him.

He stayed where he was, curious to see what she intended. Probably a mistake, given his earlier thoughts on the subject, but he found he couldn’t bring himself to move.

He liked her being here. He liked being in the same room, both of them doing separate things, yet together. It made him realise that he hadn’t had the company of another person in quite this way for three years... No, longer. In fact, had he ever had this quiet, companionable feeling with another person? Even back when he’d been a prince, the company he’d kept had been of the loud, drunken variety, or soft, welcoming and female. And working quietly had been the last thing on his mind.

Inara reached for his tie and loosened it.

‘What are you doing, little one?’

‘Helping you relax.’ She pulled the tie away from his neck, bending over him to undo the buttons on his shirt.

He should stop her, he really should, because her scent was surrounding him, along with the warmth of her body, and it made him think of the previous night when he’d had her beneath him, panting in his ear...

‘I’m not sure taking my tie off will help me relax.’ He looked up at her. ‘In fact, I can safely say that relaxed is the last thing I feel with your hands on me.’

She wrinkled her nose, going the most adorable shade of pink as she fussed with his buttons. ‘I’m not talking about that. You’re always so...uptight. You could stand to be a little...looser.’

He wanted to pull her down into his lap, cover that gorgeous mouth with his own, and it was difficult to remember why that was a bad idea. Certainly, his brain had told him something of the sort earlier, but with her bending over him, so pretty and warm and human, he couldn’t seem to remember why that was such a bad idea. He couldn’t seem to remember why any of the things he’d been telling himself about following his father’s example and leaving a legacy was such a good thing. Not when she was here.

You know it’s not about leaving a legacy. Or even following an example. You’re punishing yourself, because it’s what you deserve.

Inara’s fingers were warm at his throat, brushing his skin as she pulled open the buttons of his shirt, but he felt suddenly cold, as if all the blood in his veins were icing over. He’d reached up to brush her hands away before he could stop himself.

Instantly Inara straightened, her expressive features tightening. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...’

‘It’s fine.’ He pushed himself out of the chair, all his good feelings draining away.

No, this had been a mistake. He should be back in his office, preparing for this ball, not here in his study, indulging himself.

Indulging himself. That had always been his problem.

‘It’s not fine,’ Inara said. ‘What did I do?’ She was standing in front of him, blocking his path to the door, her grey eyes full of concern.

‘Nothing,’ he said curtly. ‘Move, please, Inara. I have to get back to work.’

Something flickered in her gaze, that spark of challenge, the sign of a will that was becoming more and more formidable.

‘I did do something.’ She stayed exactly where she was. ‘You were fine until I undid your tie.’

‘Because it reminded me that now isn’t the time to relax,’ he snapped. ‘It’s the middle of the day and I should—’

‘If it was only that, you wouldn’t be so angry. And you’re angry, Cassius, I can see it in your eyes.’

He took a breath, fighting down the heat gathering inside him. ‘It’s nothing you did,’ he forced out calmly. ‘Please, Inara, I have to—’

‘Why?’ There was something fierce in her gaze now, a silver flame, burning brightly. ‘You’re angry at something. Is it me? Because this is the second time you’ve walked away from me without a word.’

He tried to find the calmness inside him, the patience he needed to control his emotions.

‘I’m not angry,’ he said, knowing even as he said it that it was a lie. Because he could feel that heat inside him growing ever hotter, burning more furiously, and all the denying in the world wasn’t going to make it go away.

Inara’s mouth softened, the crease between her brows deepening. ‘You’d forgotten, hadn’t you? You’d forgotten for a moment that you were a king and something made you remember.’

She was right. He wasn’t sure how she knew, how she could see that in him, but it was true.

Before he could say a word, she stepped forward, raising a hand to his cheek, her palm warm against his skin. ‘It’s okay, Cassius. You can have a few moments of forgetfulness. Surely that’s allowed?’

His hand came up before he could stop it, circling her wrist and pulling that comforting palm away. ‘No,’ he said woodenly. ‘It isn’t allowed. I can’t forget, Inara. I can’t ever forget. Self-indulgence and selfishness got my family killed and it will taint my reign if I let it. Remembering what happened and who I was is the only way I can make sure that my father’s legacy remains intact.’

‘I understand why that’s important to you. But your father is gone... And so is your brother. You are the King. So shouldn’t your reign be your legacy rather than theirs?’

Something echoed inside him, like a bell tolling, but he ignored it, the flames of his deep, formless anger burning too high.

‘Yes, why not?’ He released her wrist, bitterness tingeing the words. ‘A legacy of parties and drunkenness and sex. Of a petty prince indulging his own petulant resentment. A legacy of selfishness. Yes, that’s exactly what Aveiras needs, a king who puts his own emotions before the needs of his subjects.’

She stared at him as if he were a stranger. ‘Is that really how you see yourself? How you saw yourself back then?’

‘It’s not how I see myself,’ he spat. ‘It’s how I was.’

Her chin came up, the silver flame flickering in her eyes, as if she was preparing to challenge him. ‘No, that’s not what you were. What you were was a man who helped a lost and desperate teenager. Who protected her. Who visited her and showed an interest in her that no one ever had. A man who discussed things with her, laughed with her, made her feel good about herself for the first time in her life. A man who, when his family died, stepped up and took responsibility even though he didn’t need to.’

The ferocity in her gaze gripped him, held him still. ‘That’s the kind of man you were, Cassius. Yes, you had failings, didn’t we all? But punishing yourself for yours isn’t going to give you the legacy you’re trying to build. It’ll only end up tearing you apart.’

Her words felt like arrows, striking him in unprotected parts of his body, causing pain wherever they landed.

‘You’re wrong.’ His voice was finally stripped of all emotion. ‘I was never that man. That man was a lie.’

Her gaze flickered then, as if the flame in it had finally burned out. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I was too young, too innocent. That I didn’t know my own feelings. But nothing will change the way I saw you then, Cassius, and nothing is going to change the way I feel now. You’re still that man underneath. I know you are. And, whether you like it or not, that man was a good person.’

She took a little breath. ‘I...loved that man.’

It felt as though she’d struck him with a punch direct to the gut, stealing all his air.

‘What?’ His voice echoed strangely in his head.

She just looked at him, the truth laid bare in her face, in her eyes. A truth that had probably been there all this time. He’d just never seen it.

You never wanted to see it, either.

She stared at him a second longer, then lifted her hand once more and touched his cheek briefly.

Then she turned and, not stopping even to grab her shoes, went out of the room. This time leaving him to be the one who was alone.