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

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SHEHADN’TMEANTto just come out with it. She hadn’t meant to say it at all but, looking out over the crowds, watching them shout for him, cheer for him, gaze at him as if he was the centre of their world, she felt that very same adoration burning like a coal at the centre of her chest.

In that moment, as he’d taken her hand and smiled at the crowd, she hadn’t cared if they accepted her or not. She hadn’t cared about them at all.

The only thing that mattered to her was him.

And she wanted him.

She wanted to mean something to him too.

Tonight she’d watched him become the kind of king he should be, not bound by his father’s legacy or trying to fit his brother’s shoes. A less formal, more accessible kind of king. A king who wasn’t only respected but who was loved too.

A king she could love. A king she already loved. It should have been enough to be his wife, to know that she’d helped him be all he could be, the way he’d helped her. To be his queen. To be his lover.

It was more than she’d ever thought she’d have and yet...

It wasn’t enough.

And she was scared. While it was clear he was ready to take her to bed again, she wasn’t sure how long that would continue. This whole week, he’d shut her out, and he’d done the same the week before. He distanced himself whenever she challenged him, making her feel as if she was walking on egg shells around him, and that felt...precarious.

This situation—their marriage and thus her future—felt precarious. Was this what it would be like between them from now on? Would it be her, loving him from afar, surviving on whatever attention he chose to give her? Never knowing whether she’d say the wrong thing and end up being shut out again?

She’d never had anyone accept her for who she was, not the way he’d accepted her. She’d never had anyone who thought she was beautiful or interesting, or even worth knowing, the way he did. And though that was wonderful, there was still one thing she’d never had, not from anyone.

Love.

Was it so wrong to want that? So wrong to ask for it?

Cassius lifted his head, staring down at her, a hot amber glow burning in his eyes. ‘Let’s talk about this later.’

‘When later?’ The words came out before she could stop them. ‘Before or after you refuse to speak to me for another week? Or refuse to take me to your bed?’

‘Inara, I—’

‘It’s a simple question, Cassius. Yes or no?’ She was trembling all of a sudden, her chest gone tight and sore. ‘And I’m guessing that, since you can’t answer it, you don’t.’

He stared at her for a long moment then took a step back, lifting a hand and shoving it distractedly through his black hair. ‘You surprised me. I wasn’t expecting you to ask a question like that.’

She swallowed, her heart a piece of broken glass embedded in her chest, jagged and sharp. ‘I told you I loved you, Cassius. And then you ignored me for an entire week. You wouldn’t even let me come to your bed.’

His hand dropped. ‘You told me that you loved the prince.’

‘Yes. And I love the King too. I love you. I’ve loved you for years.’ There wasn’t any point hiding it. He’d told her his secret and now it was her turn to share hers, and there was a kind of freedom in that.

Emotions flickered over his face, gone too fast for her to see what they were, before his features finally settled into the expression she hated so much. The calm one, the condescending one. The mask he used when he wanted to distance people. When he wanted to hide.

‘I know I’ve treated your poorly,’ he said levelly. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that but—’

‘Is this what our marriage will be like from now on?’ She took a step forward, anger igniting inside her. A cleansing, freeing anger. ‘I only get whatever crumbs of attention you give me? Ignored whenever I challenge you, barred from your bed whenever I offend you?’

‘No, that’s not—’

‘Will it be like it was before, Cassius? Will I be banished to the Queen’s rooms, like I was banished to the Queen’s Estate? Existing only when you choose to recognise my existence? Wheeled out for state functions or whenever you need a queen on your arm? Summoned only when you need a woman in your bed.’

The calm mask cracked, a fierce glow beginning to burn in his eyes. ‘I never banished you. No, I didn’t summon you last week, but you never tried to contact me either. You didn’t come to my door. You told me you loved the prince I once was and then you walked out.’

It was true. That was exactly what she’d done. ‘Because I thought you needed some time to think about it and I didn’t want to crowd you. Plus, tonight required a bit of planning, and I didn’t want you to know about it. And even if I hadn’t been doing all of that, would you have let me in if I’d come to you? Or would you have sent an aide to tell me you were “too busy”?’ She took another step towards him, her anger burning hotter. ‘And why should I be the one who always has to come to you, anyway? Why should I be the one who has to wait for you to be ready to receive me?’

A muscle flicked in his jaw. ‘What is it exactly that you want from me, Inara? You want the freedom to come to my bed whenever it suits you? Is that it?’

‘No, you idiot man.’ She was now only inches away. ‘What I want is a real marriage. I want to be your wife in reality, all the time, not only when it suits you. And I want you to love me the way I love you—because no one ever has, Cassius. Not even my parents.’

His gaze flickered, but there was no softening in his expression. ‘You want the truth? You really want an answer? Fine. I don’t love you, Inara, and I never will. I’ll never love anyone. It’s all I can do to carry the weight of the crown, to love my country and my people.’

Inara felt something die a little inside her, the fragile tendril of her hope crushed utterly. Because looking at the hard, set lines of his face and the anger burning in his eyes, it was worse than she’d thought.

Love was a burden to him, an extra weight he didn’t need, not with all the expectations he’d heaped on himself already. And why would he expect love to be anything else? After the way he’d been brought up and the standards he’d been measured against by his own family?

Her own had been no different. It was just...her love for him had brought her confidence and freedom. But it was clear that lesson hadn’t gone both ways.

You failed. Again.

Inara swallowed past the lump in her throat, trying to find the right words, the right thing, that would help him see. ‘Love isn’t a weight,’ she said thickly. ‘It’s not a burden to bear. It sets you free. How can you not see that?’

He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Free? I loved my parents and my brother, but do I look free to you? Do I look unburdened?’

Tears pricked at her eyes. ‘No. You look like a man beating himself to death over something that wasn’t his fault in the first place.’

His expression twisted, anger flaring across it. ‘Of course it was my fault. I was expected to at least act like a prince of the realm and I couldn’t even do that much. I was too selfish, too angry. Too caught up in—’

‘You were a boy who’d been measured all his life against standards he could never possibly live up to,’ she interrupted, suddenly and completely furious. ‘You’re just like me. Exactly like me. We both had parents who wanted us to be something different, who couldn’t accept us for who we were, and I understand how that hurts. But there comes a point where you have to decide whether to let that be a stick you keep beating yourself with. Or you choose to let it go and accept who you are. Like I did. Like you taught me to.’

A light flared in his eyes and for a second she thought she might have got through to him. But then it vanished, forced away beneath that blank mask once again as he took a step back from her, putting distance between them.

‘I’m sorry, Inara,’ he said, hard and cold. ‘But, whether you like it or not, those standards are part of my world now. And I have met them. And I’ll continue to meet them for the good of my country and my people.’

Her anger drained away just as quickly as it had come, leaving her empty and hollow. It was becoming more and more obvious with every passing moment that there was nothing she could say that would help him.

Nothing she could do.

He was committed to his own punishment and eventually it would crush him.

Her heart broke, that piece of jagged glass splintering, knowing that there was only one choice left for her.

She could stay in this precarious marriage, suffering quietly every day, in the hope that one day his feelings would change, that one day he’d turn around and tell her that he loved her. Or she could leave him, leave this marriage, accepting that change wasn’t possible and would never be possible for him.

Everything she’d done since she’d got here had been for him, but she couldn’t keep on doing it. She couldn’t keep on giving pieces of herself away, getting smaller and smaller, weaker and weaker, every day.

She had to keep something for herself.

‘Okay,’ Inara said thickly ‘If that’s the way it has to be, then that’s what it has to be. But I’m afraid I’m not going to stay being your wife, Cassius. I can’t. I don’t want to be banished to the Queen’s apartments, or wherever you think I need to be, summoned whenever you need me then forgotten about when you don’t. I don’t want to be that child bride you visit whenever you’re bored. And I can’t stay here and watch you tear yourself apart.’

‘Inara—’

‘Cassius, I want a divorce.’

He couldn’t believe it. His beautiful wife, his lovely queen, the woman who’d showed him that there was a different way, a better way, was asking him for a divorce.

And all because he wouldn’t tell her he loved her when she demanded it.

That was love, though, wasn’t it? A demand. An expectation. Something that was only given when certain conditions were met. You were worthy only if you acted in a certain way, behaved with dignity and propriety. When you were perfect.

Like Caspian. He was worthy, but you never were.

His father’s chilly distance had always made that very clear. The opportunity to earn that love was gone now, along with his father, but that didn’t mean he should stop trying. That was what he’d dedicated his life to. Trying to be worthy of the title he’d inherited.

He’d fashioned himself into a king his country would be proud of, and that had taken nearly everything he had. How could he also fashion himself into a good husband? A man worthy of Inara’s love? Being a king was a heavy enough burden. He didn’t need to add to it.

He stared at her, a possessive, hungry anger boiling inside him, demanding to be let out. Demanding that he close the distance between them and take her in his arms, kiss that beautiful mouth, tell her that there would be no divorce—not now, not ever.

But he forced it aside. If he couldn’t be what she wanted him to be, then he could hardly demand the same of her. Insisting that there would be no divorce would be the height of hypocrisy and he couldn’t do that.

She’s yours...

No, she wasn’t. She’d proved herself a worthy queen, far more worthy than he deserved. It would be better to let her go.

Something in him felt as though it was being torn in two, but he ignored it, shoved the lid on his anger and his pain and let it boil dry until there was nothing left but the hard shell of a king.

He drew himself up. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I won’t insist. If a divorce is what you want, then that’s what you’ll have.’

Shock crossed her face, followed by a brief flare of agony that drew an echo of pain from him too.

‘Just like that, Cassius?’ Her voice was hoarse and it was clear she hadn’t expected him to agree. ‘You give in just like that?’

He ignored the part of him that wanted to take her in his arms, soothe her hurts and tell her that he wanted to keep her for ever. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear the weight. The expectations of a king were crushing him already; the expectations of a husband would kill him.

‘There’s no point fighting about it.’ He could hear his own voice, cool and calm, as if it were someone else’s. ‘I’ll admit it’s not what I want, but I won’t stand in your way if you want to leave.’

She blinked again furiously and he could see tears behind the lenses of her glasses. They felt like knives to his soul. Yet another sign that he was doing the right thing, of course.

‘What about us having no choice? If I’m pregnant then—’

‘If you’re pregnant then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ Something in him settled, hardened, became rigid. And he let it. ‘In the meantime, I’ll get the papers drawn up. If you require anything, anything at all, it’s yours.’

Her mouth was soft and vulnerable, and tears trailed down her cheeks. ‘Anything but your heart, right?’

‘You don’t want my heart, Inara,’ he said. ‘There’s not much of it left. You deserve more than what I have to give you.’

She looked unbearably regal standing there in her blue gown with her hair loose, the crown glittering on her head, her chin lifted. Vulnerable, yes, but there was also a strength to her.

His people had accepted her, but she’d never be his queen. He’d find someone else, someone who wouldn’t demand things from him. Expect things from him. Someone who’d accept what he had to give and never ask for more.

‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I do deserve more. I deserve to be loved, and by you.’

Something in his heart tore, but he ignored that along with everything else. ‘Find someone else, Inara. Someone better. Someone who doesn’t have a crown to bear as well. I can only carry one thing, and I’m sorry, but that’s my country. I can’t carry you as well.’

She took a heaving breath, opened her mouth to say something and then, clearly thinking better of it, pressed her lips together and looked away. She nodded, her pretty crown glittering in the light. ‘Very well,’ she said at last. ‘If that’s how it’s going to be, then I’ll require a flight to the Queen’s Estate, please. Tonight.’

She didn’t wait for him to respond. She simply walked to the door.

‘I thought you were better than that,’ he heard himself say, even though he hadn’t meant to...even though he thought he felt nothing. ‘I thought you at least would accept me for who I am.’

She paused, her hand on the door. ‘This is not who you are, Cassius.’

‘You’re wrong. This is who I am. And if you can’t accept that, then you’re better off leaving.’

A tear trickled down her cheek. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she said softly. ‘Perhaps I am.’

Then she quietly opened the door and went out.