Chapter 13

Edward

“Cecil, why does it really make any difference who I marry? It’s not as if marrying Ignora brings anything special to the kingdom…”

Not to mention that Ignora, I can quite honestly say, is one of the most repulsive human beings I have ever had the misfortune of meeting.

Cecil gives me a level stare. “Because Gwen is gone, my King.”

The news hits me like a hoof to the head.

Gwen…gone?

It doesn’t make any sense—but what reason does Cecil have to lie?

“Why?”

It’s the only thing I can think to ask.

“Her family, perhaps, my King. Or perhaps her own sense of honor—she did give her word to the Marquis de Roach after all…before your, er, ministrations convinced her to marry you instead.”

A cold, oily blackness settles in the pit of my stomach.

Is that really how Gwen felt about me—about us?

“Cecil…I have to get her back. What do I do?”

“It looks to your commonwealth as if you’re playing around with them, saying you’ll do one thing then doing another—you appear impulsive and unable to stand by a decision made in your—and the kingdom’s—best interests.”

And damn it, I know he’s right.

But I can’t just take this lying down, so to speak.

“But if I renounce my engagement to Gwen and go back to my original engagement to Ignora, won’t that look even more like I can’t stand by a decision?”

Cecil shakes his head.

Damn. Of course, he has a reasonable explanation for this. Just my luck.

“Going back to your original engagement will demonstrate to your subjects that you are willing to sacrifice your own personal whims—” I flinch at Cecil calling Gwen a whim, but say nothing, “—to do what is right by your country. They will respect you for it. And we cannot allow her and the Marquis to set the story here—so we must act quickly.”

And he’s right, no doubt about it.

I sigh heavily. “I get it, Cecil. I do. But dammit—this country isn’t worth losing Gwen over, and you know it.”

Cecil gives me a knowing smile.

“Gwen has left you, sire. Though you’re unaccustomed to it, this is a matter in which you do not have a choice.”

“I could steal her back.”

“And start a war? I think not. This is your duty, my King. Were you a common man…”

“But I’m not a common man.” I don’t need to hear it right now—I’ve heard this speech many times before.

Duty before heart.

But Gwen’s not just my heart—she’s my fucking soul.

“I never doubted you would do the right thing, Your Highness. You have always stood by your duty in the end. You make your nation proud.”

God damn it, using patriotism against me.

I think of Gwen, and I feel my heart twinge painfully.

I can’t marry her. Can’t even be with her.

For one glorious, rebellious second, I entertain the notion of abdicating the throne for Gwen—stealing her away from the fucking Marquis de Roach, her family and honor be damned.

But Gwen’s honor means more to me than my own desires—and there’s no one to abdicate to. The entire country would be thrown into anarchy—all because I couldn’t keep my cock in my fucking trousers and my heart buried deep out of sight.

Both of those things are fucking impossible with Gwen’s shapely little body anywhere near me—not to mention her own sweet heart.

But if Gwen doesn’t want me anymore…

Christ. I should have kept my heart buried.

It would have hurt less than uncovering it only to feel it shatter in my hands.

If Gwen doesn’t want me anymore, that settles it. I can’t force her to take on the queenship of an entire kingdom, forsake her family and her own engagement just for me.

I have a responsibility towards my country now. And I want to be a good king.

Gwen deserves a man who can give her everything. Not just a kingdom, but an entire fucking world.

And it’s finally hitting me…that man just isn’t me.

So, I’ll do it. I’ll marry Ignora.

And I’ll lose my fucking soul so my country can survive.

Suddenly, the banshee herself lets herself into the room without so much as a knock to announce her arrival—Ignora.

I wince as if I’ve just been forced to swallow some particularly sour medicine.

To my horror, Cecil stands up and makes to leave the room. I motion for him to stop.

“You can stay, Cecil. I insist.”

But Cecil shakes his head after taking one look at Ignora’s furious, scowling face.

“I really should leave, Your Highness, so that the two of you can…mend your relationship.”

He inclines his head at Ignora—who rudely chooses to ignore him—before vacating the room.

For the sake of my country and my throne, I’ll make this work.

Even if it kills me.

“Ignora,” I begin mildly, “I apologize for the earlier ceremony—”

“Cut the bullshit, Edward! Do you know how humiliated I was? Do you?”

I don’t, because I don’t care, but I imagine Ignora’s pride was mightily bruised by the whole affair.

I walk towards her, but she holds a hand out to keep me at bay.

I wonder how long I’ll have to keep up this farce of an apology before she accepts.

Because of course, she will accept. She has too much to lose.

“You threw me away without so much as a thought,” Ignora complains, “all for that blonde whore! Where did you find her? She seems barely old enough to go out unsupervised!”

I resist the urge to tell her to shut up about Gwen. Ignora doesn’t know anything about her, and I’d rather keep it that way as much as possible. But I have to assuage Ignora’s fears.

For my country.

I feel like I’ll have to remind myself of that a lot.

“She’s just a childhood friend. I hadn’t seen her in years. We were both…surprised.”

Ignora looks at me expectantly, clearly not deeming my explanation acceptable.

And she shouldn’t. Gwen is so much fucking more to me than just some friend…

But if I’m going to sit on this throne and obey my duty, it will have to be a throne of lies.

“It was…a joke,” I venture. “We used to play jokes on the adults around us as kids all of the time. We even declared we were going to marry! They didn’t find it funny.”

Ignora looks as if she agrees with the adults of my past.

Resisting the urge to recoil, I walk over to Ignora again and take her hands, but she doesn’t look at me.

“It got out of hand, Ignora. I’m sorry. I truly am. Call it the final cry of the boy inside me. And now it’s out of my system. It will never happen again. You have my word.”

She looks at me, all bitterness and pointed insults sitting on the tip of her tongue, just looking for an excuse to be released.

“Well…alright, then. So, I’ll still be queen?”

If it wasn’t for losing Gwen, that would be the worst part. Ingora, queen of my people. The very thought makes my stomach turn.

“Yes,” I say thinly. “You’ll still be queen.”

Ignora’s eyes light up as she’s reminded of the attractive king that she’ll be married to if she accepts my apology.

Well, not that she cares about me. She cares about my title. But I know she likes the way I look, either way.

“And what will you do about the previous ‘announcement’?”

“I’ll make a new announcement, of course. With you by my side.”

Oh, how Ignora smiles at that.

The adoration of an entire nation is exactly what she’s marrying me for, after all.

“And what will you say to the press?”

God, do I have to spell out everything to this woman? I feel as if I’ve doomed myself to a life of explaining every tiny detail of why I want to do or say anything to Ignora. I detest the idea so much, I can hardly stand it.

What makes it more difficult is that, with Gwen, I’d never have to explain a thing. Not a goddamn thing.

She’d simply know.

I smile easily for Ignora, relying on my acting skills once more.

“I’ll tell them what I told you, of course—the truth. That it was a joke that simply got out of hand. That, once the alcohol wore off and I came to my senses, there you were, and how could I not wish to marry you?”

Lord, Ignora must know I’m lying through my teeth, but she laps the compliment up all the same.

She sighs dramatically. “Well, if that’s the case, then I guess there’s no helping it,” she says, sanctimonious as shit. “I’ll marry you. But if you so much as—”

“I know, I know,” I interrupt. “I won’t get a second chance. I won’t go near Gwen again.”

And even though it kills me…I know I have to keep my word.

Not for Ignora’s sake. Not even for my people’s—and certainly not for my own.

No. It’s for Gwen. Everything—all of this—it’s for her.

I just hope the Marquis de Roach realizes the full extent of her worth.

I certainly won’t forget.