The last thing I need today is William starting a fight again with James. It’s clear my husband still doesn’t trust me with my former lover, even after we finally spent the night together.

And after I allowed him in my bed after he picked a fight. I shake my head. I have no idea what I was thinking last night, allowing him into my bed. It was a nice diversion, I suppose, but that’s all it was. And William had to go and ruin even that with talk of future heirs.

If he only knew… Well, he’d never forgive me if he knew what had really happened between James and me. William might have read my poetry and my journals, but I’m not dumb enough to have written anything specific about that incident—about most things, actually. Surely he knows that. I suppose if he cared about me at all, he might have tried to see through the abstraction in my words to find out what really happened—what truly broke my heart.

But William doesn’t care about me. Clearly. There was a moment last night that I thought he might have cared—a few seconds when I thought we could have been much more than what we’ve become.

He cares about his chance to rule a country—and the only way he’ll ever have that chance is to plant baby after baby inside me.

Perhaps he was only joking last night, but that thought does little to comfort me—his comments about making heirs snapped me out of my thoughts of what could have happened between us. Thoughts of wanting more than just sex—much more. And for a single moment, I didn’t feel so alone. For a single moment, I thought he was actually going to help me—to be my husband. But it’s become quite clear that we can never be anything more than adversaries. And perhaps that is for the best—I definitely won’t be having my heart broken again if I keep William at arm’s length.

Thankfully, I’m too busy today to fret about what was said last night. I’m too busy to even think about what happened last night, much as I might like to savor the memory of the actual act itself. It was nice to lose myself—even if it was only for a few minutes.

I don’t think anyone can understand the importance of this conference. It probably seems a silly thing to be worried about, considering the state of Rosvalia after the recent storms, but this conference is a light in an otherwise bleak situation. The money it will raise will be appropriated to complete the much-needed repairs around the city—I’ll see to that myself.

And after this conference is over, perhaps I’ll have the time to locate my father and beg him for some additional funds for our people. Truthfully, I have no idea where it is he’s gone to now, nor do I really care. His presence here would only complicate matters, though I’m sure there will be those who wonder why he doesn’t show up for the conference.

I suppose one good thing about the conference is that I’ll be able to reconnect with my friends from college. I’ve invited all three, but only one, Carter, has confirmed. And of my few friends from that time in my life, he was the one who saved me. Unfortunately, we never felt anything more for each other than a sibling-type bond. But that bond rescued me when my life fell apart at the end of my time at university.

But I have no time to reminisce about my college years now. I spend several more minutes finalizing details with the team helping with the conference preparations—giving final approval for menus and seating arrangements, mostly.

I’m shuffling papers on my desk again when I sense the presence of someone in front of my desk.

There’s only one bare spot on my desk, and I point to the corner. “You can set my breakfast there. And if you’d like to go help with setting up the chairs, I’m sure it would be appreciated—”

“I hardly think I have time to be setting up chairs, Justine.”

My stomach hardens when I realize to whom the voice belongs, and my heart pounds in my chest when I look up at James. “You shouldn’t be here. I—”

“I’m only asking for five minutes.” He smiles at me, the same smile that used to make me melt into a puddle. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t have your breakfast. Maybe one of your assistants—”

“Never mind that. I thought you were…someone else.” I frown. “And I don’t have five minutes to give you. Not today.” Not ever.

“Three then. You owe me at least that much.”

I rise from my chair. “I owe you?”

His smile falls. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” I motion to the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Two minutes then, Justine.” His steely gray eyes bore into mine, and I’m a little surprised that he still has any power over me at all.

“Fine. Two minutes. And not a single second more.” I motion to an empty corner of the room, and he follows me there. “What is it?”

He looks down into my eyes for a long moment. “You’re looking exceedingly lovely.”

I shake my head. “Just go—”

He grabs my hand, pulling it into his grasp. “We shouldn’t have left things the way we did.”

“Really? You’re coming to that conclusion now?”

“I…I heard you applied for graduate school at Yale.”

I don’t even flinch. “What I do with my life now is none of your concern—”

“I can help you. I know the Dean of the English department personally. I can give you a recommendation—”

“I don’t believe I require your assistance.” I try to wrench my hand away, but he keeps it firmly in his grasp. “And I believe your two minutes are up.”

“They aren’t even close to up, and we both know it.” He stares at me again. “You owe me an apology.”

“I owe you nothing, James.” I narrow my gaze. “And we both know that, as well.”

He nods. “You lied to me. You never…” His gaze narrows. “You lied to me.”

“You have no idea what happened. You believed what you wanted to believe. And you weren’t there.” I shake my head. “And I can’t believe you would take their word over mine. After everything that happened between us.”

He seems to ponder my words for a moment, rubbing at the spot on his chin where William hit him last night. “Well, you left me little choice. Regardless of what you say happened now, it’s all in the past. And even if things were as you claim, it’s better now that they turned out as they did. Don’t you see—?”

“Yes. I do see now, James. How thoughtless of me to only be thinking of myself in that situation.” I finally am able to twist my hand away from his. “I’m sorry you were ever inconvenienced.”

“Don’t be a petty brat, Justine. You know precisely what I’m talking about. Even if it happened as you say, it was best for both of us. For all of us.”

There’s a clearing of a throat behind James, and I know immediately who it is.

I step to the side to face William and see him holding a tray with an assortment of breakfast foods. He glares at me. “Where would you like your breakfast, Princess?” He almost hisses my title.

I set my jaw before I motion at the clear corner of my desk.

William shakes his head and sets the food down before returning to me. “I thought you didn’t have time for conversation this morning.”

“I don’t. I was giving our keynote speaker two minutes to run something by me—”

“Yes, I heard,” William interrupts. “Something about you being a petty brat.”

“This is a private conversation. One I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” James glares at William. “So if you’ll excuse us—”

“I’ll not.” William almost growls. “Anything you might say to my wife, you may say in front of me.”

I glance between the two men, hoping to stop the fighting before it begins. “I—”

James interrupts before I can get another word out. “Well, if you must know, I was about to ask Justine about the ridiculous pageant she participated in during her stay in Montovia.” He glances at me. “And I was meaning to ask her if you were some sort of consolation prize for her losing the contest.”

William’s hands ball into fists, and I can tell by the tightness in his jaw he’s about punch the man again.

I reach for his forearm, wrapping my hand around it. “William—”

“In fact,” James continues before I have a chance to finish my thought. “You aren’t even much of a consolation. You’re not even one of the notable Montovian princes, are you? Your two older brothers have much more power than you. And I hear even your younger brother is at least doing something noteworthy with his life…”

I can almost hear the grinding of William’s teeth, his jaw is clenched so tightly. I almost wish I could punch James myself at his words. He has no idea what sort of man William is—and William is a far better man than James will ever be.

But at least there has been no alcohol consumed this morning… I’m saddened for a moment that I’m relieved by the lack of alcohol in William’s system. But at least he’ll be able to show some modicum of restraint, even at James’s baiting, though part of me knows William’s heart is in the right place.

“You should leave my wife’s office.” William’s voice is controlled—polite, even. “Before something…unfortunate might happen.”

James rubs his jaw again at the spot where William punched him last night. “Is that a threat? Because I believe the Royal Guard might also work in my favor—”

“Don’t get your hopes up about that, asshole. I have friends in the Guard, and I can assure you, they won’t take kindly to you touching their princess.” William clears his throat. “My princess.”