United By Their Royal Baby

‘How would that work exactly? Us, married?’

‘If we got married,’ Xavier spoke in a careful tone, ‘it would be clear—not only to Kirtida, but to the world—that Aidara and Mattan are united. And with our collective military, our resources, our people, we would be powerful enough to defend against anything Kirtida attempts.’

‘Marriages end, Xavier,’ she said in the same tone, and saw the heat of anger flare in his eyes.

Good.

‘Royal marriages don’t just end.’

‘No,’ she agreed. ‘But you and I both know we can’t anticipate what might happen in the future.’

Maybe bitterness spurred on her words, but she didn’t give it much thought. Whatever motivated them didn’t change that what she’d said was the truth. She’d seen it with her parents. Her father’s death had made her mother forget her responsibilities to the crown. To Aidara. To her daughter.

Granted, Helene had married into the royal family of Aidara, and hadn’t been Aidaraen herself. When Leyna was feeling sympathetic towards her mother, she thought it must have been hard for Helene to stay in the place where her heart had been broken.

But those times were rare, and quickly followed by the reminder that Helene had left her daughter to fend for herself in the hardest job in the world. Without any support.

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means exactly what I said. Marriages don’t last for ever. You know that better than anyone.’

‘Leave Erika out of this,’ Xavier nearly growled, and Leyna’s bitterness meshed with jealousy.

‘You’re the one bringing her into this,’ she said lightly. Carefully. ‘I wasn’t talking about your marriage—I meant the institution, not your spouse.’

She gave him time to process—though, if she were honest with herself, it was more for her to find her own control again.

‘What are you suggesting, Leyna?’

‘Only that marriage is not enough to secure an alliance. Especially a precarious one.’

‘So what do you want then? A child?’ he asked sarcastically.

She’d had a nippy reply on the tip of her tongue that disappeared the moment her mind processed his words. There was something in that, she thought. But, for the life of her, she couldn’t wade through the flood of emotions his suggestion had released to identify what that something was.

But, because she had to, she struggled through it. Through the hope that came from a dream she’d given up on a long time ago. Of being a family with Xavier. Of having children with him.

Through the sadness that had come with the realisation that that would never happen. Through the resentment that she would still have to carry a child—with some man who would be her husband though she would never love him—for the sake of the crown.

And again, through the resentment that she’d given up her dreams for the crown.

And then again, through the hope that maybe duty would make that dream come true after all.

‘It’s not a real option,’ Xavier interrupted her thoughts. Her gaze moved to his and held, sparks she would never admit aloud still flying between them.

‘Unless it is.’

‘How would that possibly improve the situation with Zacchaeus?’

‘For the reasons you outlined. Except now we don’t only have the marriage backing our alliance, but a child as well. Which would mean that even if something happens to one of us, Aidara and Mattan would still be protected by the other.’

‘Mattan would take care of Aidara if anything happened to you,’ Xavier answered stiffly.

‘Even if that’s true, whoever I marry would need to give me a child. An heir to the Aidaraen throne. You know that,’ she told him, and saw the confirmation of it in his eyes. ‘The same goes for you. There’ll need to be a child for the Mattanian throne, too. And you can’t deny the political power in having one child as an heir to both kingdoms’ thrones.’

Xavier ran a hand through his dark hair, giving her a glimpse of the lighter streaks that she knew showed when it wasn’t styled so precisely. It made the colour of his skin, which spoke of the mixed African and European heritage they both had, look like a tan. As though he had lazily picked one up on holiday instead of from the work he did amongst his citizens.

But anyone who knew Xavier couldn’t deny he was a king. Leyna had always thought he looked exactly as a king should—authoritative, uncompromising, powerful. Only she had been privy to the other side of him when they’d been growing up. The easy, laidback man who’d relaxed on the beach with her and would casually hold her hand as they walked through the gardens.

It felt like a punishment that she no longer saw that Xavier. No, now she, too, experienced only that authoritative, uncompromising and powerful side of King Xavier.

Just as everyone else did.

But could she blame him?

‘Let me see if I understand this,’ Xavier said. ‘You think that if we marry it won’t be enough to strengthen the alliance between Aidara and Mattan on the off-chance something might happen to one of us. So you want to have a child to make sure that if something happens, our kingdoms will still be protected because there is a single heir to both our thrones?’

‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘And don’t be so dismissive of the possibility of something happening to one of us. We’ve both seen people we love die younger than they should have. It is a possibility.’ She gave him a chance to process before continuing. ‘A child gives us assurances in both cases. If something happens and if it doesn’t, because there’s no way Kirtida can misinterpret marriage and an heir. There’s also no better way to strengthen the alliance.’

‘That might be true, except for one little thing.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t give you a child.’

Chapter Two (#uabdab87b-abe2-54c3-bb29-df5cb921edb7)

XAVIER WATCHED THE shock in her eyes disappear behind the curtain that hid all her emotions. The emotions he’d once been able to read as easily as he did his favourite books.

‘What does that mean?’ Leyna asked softly. He wanted to tell her—would have, had it been ten years before—but he couldn’t bring himself to say that he was infertile. The fact that he’d alluded to it at all told him how much she shook him.

And how much he wanted to shake her.

How much he wanted to crack that perfectly logical, reasonable veneer she wore like a shield.

‘It means there are cracks in that perfect plan of yours. And it’s all a little...desperate.’

‘You were the one who brought it up,’ she shot back, reminding him of yet another of his slips. ‘And yes, a child is desperate, but aren’t we in a desperate situation?’

‘So, you’re saying desperate times call for desperate measures?’

‘If you’d like to use that cliché to help you understand it, then yes.’

‘And how would we conceive this child?’ He knew he wasn’t asking it because of his fertility problems but, again, because he found himself wanting to pierce through that cold facade. ‘Should I stay after the banquet for us to get...reacquainted?’

He hated how bitter he sounded—worse still, how the bitterness had made him more vulgar than he’d intended. He watched her honey-coloured skin go pale, and felt the satisfaction of it just as acutely as he felt the shame.

Her lack of colour made the golden-brown of her hair—the green of her eyes—all the more striking. And if he added the gold dress she wore, which clung to her curves in a way that made him forget she was a queen...