The Wedding Night They Never Had by Jackie Ashenden, Millie Adams
CHAPTER TEN
INARAFOUNDITdifficult to work the rest of the day. It was even harder when Cassius didn’t send for her that night, leaving her to pace about the Queen’s cold and echoing apartments by herself.
It wasn’t any mystery why he didn’t send for her, though. She’d confronted him, pushed him. Then she’d thrown that confession at him and he’d looked...stunned. As if she’d slapped him or hit him over the head.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have said it. Then again, she didn’t regret telling him, because she hadn’t been able to stand the self-loathing in his voice. He hated the prince he’d once been and she could understand it. He believed he’d sent his entire family to their deaths, and it was obvious he was trying to put as much distance between himself and that person as he could. She understood. She really did.
But she’d fallen in love with that man and she loved him still. And she hated the way he viewed himself. She didn’t see someone who’d killed his family. She saw a warm, empathetic prince who’d protected her, talked to her, been interested in her. Who’d made her feel good about herself for the first time in her life.
Yes, he had his failings. He was angry, and even back then she’d been able to see that anger. It had been evident in the edge to his voice whenever he spoke about his father, and it had been clear that he was unhappy. She’d often wished she knew why, but she hadn’t been brave enough to ask, and he’d never said.
But she thought she knew now. It had something to do with what he’d told her that day in the sitting room, about how he’d never been able to sit through those lessons in royal etiquette. How he’d had to escape into the gardens and how his parents had been so disapproving of him.
She ached for that little boy. She wanted to gather him into her arms and hold him, tell him it was okay to be the way he was. That he had his strengths, and they were just different from his brother’s and his father’s, just as hers were different. That he was just as worthy, just as admirable, as they were.
But she suspected the helicopter crash had only turned the scratches his family had inflicted into mortal wounds.
He couldn’t accept himself as he was, and she knew deep in her heart that if he continued trying to be the king his father had wanted, the king his brother should have been, then it would eventually tear him apart. And as his queen she’d have to stand by and watch him disintegrate, unable to do anything for him. Unable to help.
She hated the thought of it.
Days went by and the only communication she had from him was notification of the formal ball that would take place to introduce her to the nation. She was in a meeting with one of her favourite financial ministers when she heard, and for a second she just looked at the note that had been passed to her, her heart beating very fast.
But not because she was afraid, though a couple of weeks ago this would have been her worst nightmare. Now, it gave her an idea. She kept that idea in her head the whole day, letting it sit there, shining brightly, and only once she was alone in the Queen’s apartments did she examine it closely from all angles.
If she wanted to save her king, there was only one thing she could do. She had to show him there was a different way. A better way. That he didn’t need to base his entire life on examples that trapped him, that hurt him, that denied who he was deep down. That instead he should be true to himself, trust that he could be the king he was meant to be, not the king he thought he should be.
It might not work, but it was all she could think of. Especially given his tendency to distance her whenever she got too close. That last time she’d been the one to walk away, but only because she’d known that if she stayed the rest of what was in her heart would come tumbling out. How it wasn’t only the Prince she cared about, but the King as well. They were both part of the man. And it was the man she loved, every difficult, sharp and complicated part of him.
But she couldn’t tell him that. He’d only distance her even more.
He stayed away the entire week, closing himself off, and she let him. She didn’t want to give away any part of what she intended for the upcoming ball, because she was certain that if he knew he’d try and stop her.
More lessons in protocol appeared on her schedule, and this time at the King’s insistence. She didn’t protest. She sat through them, giving all the appearance of listening avidly while her mind took note of all the things she wasn’t going to do.
Because he was wrong. And his father had been wrong too. It wasn’t protocol and etiquette that made a good king, it was connecting with people. And that wasn’t something she’d thought of two weeks ago and, even though he didn’t realise it, it was Cassius who’d showed her that.
He’d told her that Aveiras should use her strengths and, since being involved with Aveiras’s finances, which she’d discovered she loved, she’d realised how powerful that was. That it wasn’t people as a whole she had difficulty interacting with—she had no problem talking to the ministers and staff in the finance ministry—just some people.
And that was okay. Not remembering names was okay. It was the connection that mattered, being interested in someone and demonstrating that. She still needed practice in that area, but for Cassius it was instinctive.
If only he could see that.
The week passed far too quickly.
She made no effort to contact him. Sometimes she heard his deep voice echoing in the cold halls of the palace and had to stop herself from running after him. That would undermine the point she wanted to make, so she didn’t. Instead, she made sure every report the etiquette people took back to him was glowing—that the Queen was making progress and they were happy with her efforts.
A schedule of events, seating plans, names and potted histories of VIPs arrived. She was advised who to talk to, whose hand to shake, who to merely nod at and who actively not to show favour to. Times were given and she was told very sternly that they must be adhered to. She nodded and smiled and forgot everything. Purposely.
A gown arrived, formal and decidedly neutral, stiff with embroidery. She allowed herself to be fitted for it without complaint, while in secret she talked to one of the royal dressmaker’s assistants. She didn’t want the King to know what she was planning, so everything had to be kept hidden.
The night of the ball soon arrived and Inara was led away hours beforehand to be scrubbed and plucked and primped to within an inch of her life, zipped up into the armour of a dress, painful contacts in her eyes. Her hair was smooth, sleek and shining, coiled up into intricate twists on her head, held in place by diamond pins. Careful contouring of her face was done, with a metric ton of make-up designed to look as if she was wearing no make-up at all.
And, last of all, the crown of Aveiras—thick and ancient gold set with antique diamonds, and brilliantly blue sapphires to represent the sea. It was heavy and made her head hurt, and she could only think of poor Cassius and the crown he had to wear, which was even thicker and heavier.
She would free him from that if she could.
With an hour to go, she dismissed her aides and attendants. She wasn’t used to giving orders, and had secretly worried that they wouldn’t obey her, but when she added that she needed some time to go through the schedules by herself they all agreed.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Inara sprang into action.
It didn’t take long. Everything she needed had been delivered to her apartments earlier that day, so it was all to hand. She was ready in half an hour, which was half an hour before the King and Queen were to appear at the ball.
Perfect timing.
Inara didn’t wait to be summoned. Didn’t wait to call her attendants back. She simply strode along the cold, marble hallways of the palace, past the judgmental eyes of the de Leon rulers.
She ignored them.
The double doors of the ballroom were closed, the guards stationed outside staring at her in some surprise as she approached. She gestured at them and, after a glance at each other, they pulled the doors open for her.
Inara didn’t hesitate. She strode through into the glittering light of the ballroom, surrounded by the buzz of conversation and music, the loud noise of hundreds of people all gathered in one place.
The usher by the stairs looked at her in consternation, but she only smiled. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’m early. Announce me anyway.’
The usher glanced behind her, as if he hoped to see the King, or anyone who might countenance this complete break with tradition, but there was only Inara. And she was the Queen.
He took a breath, then nodded and turned to the crowded ballroom.
‘Her Royal Majesty, Queen Inara of Aveiras,’ he announced loudly.
Everyone stopped talking and turned in her direction.
Inara braced herself, then started down the stairs.
‘Your Majesty, the Queen is already there.’
Cassius, in the middle of inspecting the crown he wore for official occasions, looked up. ‘What? What you do you mean, she’s already there?’
The aide looked apologetic. ‘I mean, Her Majesty arrived at the ball twenty minutes ago.’
Shock and anger twisted in Cassius’s stomach.
He and Inara were supposed to enter the ballroom together, the way they had the week before, properly announced and properly greeted. She should know that; he’d sent her the schedule days ago. Had she forgotten? She’d had difficulty with the schedules and protocols and etiquette...he knew that. But his people had assured him that the Queen had been attending their sessions and knew exactly what was expected of her.
He hadn’t monitored her personally. He’d simply let her know that these things would be required and had expected her to comply.
It was the only way. He couldn’t allow what she’d told him that day in his study to matter. He couldn’t allow it to affect him. She’d said she loved the man he’d once been and the truth of it had been there in her eyes.
But she’d been blind. That was her problem. How could she love a man that selfish, that self-centred? That flawed? A man so consumed with his own petty annoyances and ridiculous grievances that he hadn’t seen the damage he was causing.
That’s not the way she sees you and she told you that.
No. She’d told him that he’d made her feel good about herself, made her laugh. Protected her.
Punishing yourself...isn’t going to give you the legacy you’re trying to build. It’ll only end up tearing you apart.
He could still hear those words in his head, and they made even less sense now than they had at the time. He wasn’t punishing himself. He was simply doing what needed to be done.
Regardless, he couldn’t afford to think about this now. Inara was somehow going off script and he needed to get her back onto it. This was an important ball and she had to get things right if she wanted to be accepted by the people of Aveiras.
‘I’ll be there directly,’ he said in curt tones, dismissing the aide.
He didn’t bother with the crown, leaving his rooms and striding straight to the ballroom. The guards spotted him and instantly threw the doors wide.
He went on through then paused at the top of the stairs that led down into the ballroom proper, searching for Inara.
He saw her immediately and all the breath left his body. She wasn’t wearing the gown he’d commissioned or the crown of the queens of Aveiras. The gown she wore was simple and unadorned, a bias-cut slip dress in sapphire-blue satin with a very small, flowing train that fluttered behind her as she walked. Her hair was in loose silver curls down her back and, instead of the crown, there was a simple circlet of twisted silver strands studded with sapphires. On her feet she wore blue satin slippers, no heels, and on her nose were perched her glasses.
She was surrounded by the finance ministers she knew, plus a couple from other countries, all deep in conversation about something. The people in the ballroom swirled around her, some of them openly disapproving, but more than a few clearly intrigued.
Then, as he watched, Inara broke away from her little coterie and moved over to another group of people—ambassadors from France, from the looks of things. She shook their hands, not bothering to wait for her aide to introduce her, and smiled, exchanging a few words then moving on. She did this a number of times, and then stopped as someone else joined her group and another deep, intense conversation ensued.
His heart felt so tight he couldn’t breathe.
She wasn’t in the crown or the gown, and she’d arrived early and hadn’t waited for him. She was clearly without an aide to introduce her, and as for the schedules...they were apparently long gone.
She wasn’t at all the queen he’d wanted or the queen he’d expected. She was...better. She was warm and human and approachable. The gown she wore was simple and yet elegant, flowing around her like water. She looked young and carefree and so heartbreakingly beautiful that the entire world stood still.
The usher saw him standing there transfixed and announced him immediately. It took him a couple of moments to realise that everyone was staring at him and that he hadn’t moved because he was too busy staring at Inara.
She turned with everyone else and her lovely face broke into the most incredible smile. Without waiting for him to come to her or for an aide to approach, she marched straight through the crowd and up the stairs. Then she took his hand as if he was merely her lover and not the King, her warm fingers threading through his, and led him down into the crowds.
He knew he should stop her. He should pull her hand from his and insist on the proper protocols, insist that they needed to adhere to the schedule and the timing, because this was a formal event. There were heads of state here and he needed to set an example. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. A part of him was captivated by his lovely wife, and curious to see what she would do and what would happen next.
So he let Inara set the example.
He’d always found royal duties interminable and difficult, something to endure instead of enjoy, but tonight it felt different. It was Inara who led him round instead of his aide, approaching people and asking their names without caring that a queen should already know.
And what was even more surprising was that people didn’t seem to mind. She was artless, utterly without guile, completely open and honest. Sometimes awkward, but laughing at herself too, and he could see how that put people at their ease. He had no idea why she’d ever thought she wasn’t good at the social stuff, because if anything it was the opposite.
She put something inside him at ease too, a tightly leashed part of himself he never let out. And before he knew what was happening, he was smiling and talking to people as if he was still that prince, the charming one who’d always known what to say to make himself the life of the party.
People responded. He could see it in their faces. And soon he and Inara were surrounded, with more people coming over to talk with them, schedules out of the window, no distance, no formality.
His father would have been appalled.
But as the evening went on Cassius couldn’t bring himself to care. Inara’s hand was warm inside his, her presence beside him bright and beautiful, and he didn’t want to let that hand go. He didn’t want her to leave his side. Once or twice he glanced at her to find her looking back, her eyes shining with an emotion that made his heart ache.
Much later, an aide approached them, informing them that they were due to make their appearance on the balcony. As that was one formality they couldn’t ignore, he found himself leading Inara from the ballroom and through the corridors to the formal reception room that opened out onto the balcony.
‘Why?’ he asked quietly as several palace employees began to prepare the room. ‘Why did you do all of this?’ He didn’t elaborate; she’d know what he meant.
Her fingers tightened around his. ‘I wanted you to see that you could do something differently. That you didn’t have to follow your father’s example. That you could do things your way.’ She shifted closer, looking up at him, a fierce light in her eyes. ‘That you could create a legacy that’s yours, that isn’t bound by anyone else’s protocols or idea of what’s right and proper. A legacy that’s about you and the kind of king you want to be.’
He’d never thought about it in that way before, and it struck him all of a sudden that it was because he’d never really viewed the role of king as his before. It had always been about his father or his brother. A position he’d taken almost as a caretaker of their memory, not something he could put his own stamp on.
But...he could, couldn’t he?
Just as Inara had put her own stamp on being a queen.
They’re dead because of you, though. Can you really dishonour their legacy like that?
It was true they were dead and, yes, because of him. But was it really such a dishonour to do things differently? To be the kind of king he wanted to be, not what his father had been or his brother would have been?
Cassius lifted her hand and pressed his mouth against the back of it, then they were stepping forward to the balcony that overlooked the central city square, the sound of the crowd rolling over them.
He felt Inara tremble beside him, but he lifted her hand and held it out, showing her to his people, and smiled. Cameras everywhere beamed that smile to screens set up around the square and to TVs all over the nation, just as they beamed the approving roar of the crowd.
Adrenalin filled him, a surge of hope he hadn’t felt in far too long. Hope that soon turned into something hotter and more joyful, centred on the woman who’d brought him to this point.
His queen. His Inara.
They stepped back from the balcony, and as soon as the doors were closed, and the shutters across the windows pulled tight, Cassius dismissed everyone from the room.
Then he turned to her, glowing and beautiful in her blue gown, and gently but surely pushed her up against the balcony doors.
She didn’t protest. Her lovely face was flushed, her eyes still shining, looking at him as if he was the only thing worth looking at in the entire world.
‘They loved you,’ he said softly. ‘I knew they would.’
But this time she didn’t smile.
‘What about you?’ Her voice sounded hoarse. ‘Do you love me too?’