United By Their Royal Baby

‘Well, if it’s such a burden then—’

‘Stop it,’ she snapped, anger turning her cheeks red. ‘Our lives are filled with burdens. They’re called responsibilities. They’re a part of our duty.’ He saw her chest heave, revealing the passion with which she spoke her words. ‘Duty comes first, Xavier. It always has and it always will. This plan I’ve so neatly outlined is going to require sacrifices from the both of us, and it won’t be pleasant. In fact, I’m pretty sure it might destroy me.’

Her eyes widened and she turned away from him. It had been her first real show of emotion—proper, spontaneous emotion that told him the veneer of aloofness had been cracked. It had surprised her and, though he’d wanted to crack that shield, it had surprised him, too.

He didn’t know what to make of her words. What would destroy her? Working with him? Being married to him? Carrying his child? Was she just as affected as he was by the prospect that this decision would make them share their lives in the way they’d always imagined? Or was it because the circumstances of this life together were nothing like they’d imagined, ensuring that this decision would make their lives infinitely more complicated?

‘Perhaps there’s a simpler solution,’ he said suddenly, his thoughts turning him desperate.

‘There is no simple solution for us. For this,’ she said, turning back to him. Her eyes were bright, troubled, and he wanted to reach out and comfort her. But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t know her any more. Comforting her wasn’t his job.

‘Duty is never simple,’ he said mockingly. But she responded seriously.

‘No, it isn’t. It will never be simple for us, nor will it ever be simple between us.’

It was the first time she’d made any kind of mention of their past, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. So he didn’t respond, instead letting the silence stretch. He felt it build, felt the tension pulse from both of them.

It made him want to ask her why she’d done it. Why she’d broken his heart. Why she’d broken them. It made him want to tell her how long he’d been broken. How he’d still had to pick up the pieces in the first years of his marriage to Erika. How that had started the cracks that had eventually broken him and Erika, too.

‘We can try to set up a meeting with Zacchaeus one more time,’ she said, breaking the silence.

‘You know that won’t work.’

‘Then we move on to Plan B.’

‘Marriage and a child?’

‘Marriage and a child,’ she confirmed.

‘We don’t have the luxury of time here,’ Xavier said quietly. ‘If Zacchaeus decides to attack either of us, our kingdoms will be helpless to stop him.’

‘One more attempt at diplomacy, and then we move on to Plan B, Xavier,’ Leyna said again. ‘Now, we should get back before they realise we’re gone.’

She set the glass down, its contents untouched, and walked out of the room before he could reply.

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

LEYNA HAD HAD to leave the room—to escape Xavier’s company before she said something she regretted.

She already regretted too much of that conversation. That burst of emotion had reminded her of the woman she’d once been. The woman who’d died long ago. She needed to remind herself that the Leyna who’d let emotion guide her was gone. She had to be led by logic and reason. By the needs of her kingdom.

Because she was terrified of what would happen to her—inside of her—if she didn’t.

Her steps faltered. Her heart stuttered. Hurt pushed at the wall she’d hidden it behind. She closed her eyes, gave herself a moment. And then she straightened her shoulders and pushed ahead, forcing it all out of her mind as she walked into the hall.

Her royal duties required her attention.

Each year one of the islands in the Alliance of the Three Isles hosted the State Banquet to affirm their ties with other countries. There were thirty dignitaries there that evening and, considering the Isles’ geographical location, many of them were from Africa. The others were European, who, in honour of the three British men who’d found the islands with their African wives at the end of the eighteenth century, kept their ties with the Isles.

Leyna mingled, moving from the King of Spain to the King of Swaziland, and then to the delegation from South Africa. Before she knew it, dinner had been announced. She walked to the head of the table, her stomach turning when she saw Xavier. It wasn’t a surprise—it was custom that the monarchs of the Isles sit there—so she forced her feelings at seeing his blank expression aside and thought again of her duty.

She touched Xavier’s arm before he could take his seat.

‘We can’t have an empty seat at the head of the table. It would make Zacchaeus’ absence more conspicuous, and I won’t be able to field questions as easily if it’s staring our guests in the face. Someone has to sit in Kirtida’s place.’

He frowned down at her, but nodded. ‘Aidaraen?’

She shook her head. ‘My grandmother is the only one from Aidara who would be appropriate, and she—’ She no longer seems to think she needs to support her kingdom when she doesn’t approve of its queen. ‘She isn’t here. Can you ask someone from your family?’

‘My grandmother,’ he said immediately, but she could sense his reluctance. So things hadn’t got better in the ten years they’d grown apart, she thought. ‘She’d be the best option, considering my mother couldn’t be here tonight.’ His mother was ill, Leyna remembered. ‘Please excuse me.’

Formality—distance—lined his words. But it was for the best, she told herself, and hated the ache in her chest that said otherwise.

A few minutes later, Xavier returned with a graceful older woman at his side. Envy slithered its way through her before she shook it off. It was natural to envy the grace and poise the former Queen Consort of Mattan carried effortlessly with her. But envy was not a trait Leyna wanted to have as a queen, nor as a woman.

‘Your Majesty,’ Leyna said and curtsied.

‘Let’s not waste time with the formalities, Leyna.’ Xavier’s grandmother brushed kisses on both Leyna’s cheeks, and Leyna found her lips curving.

‘It’s lovely to see you, ma’am.’

The older woman sighed. ‘I recall you using that term years ago. But perhaps now we’ve reached the point where we can both use each other’s first names. Paulina will do. And don’t you dare refuse.’

Paulina lifted a hand to wave off Leyna’s response, and Leyna nodded.

‘As you wish... Paulina.’

Though she got an approving smile from Paulina, the name felt wrong on Leyna’s lips. To deal with it, Leyna made a point of avoiding addressing Paulina by name. She received a few looks that told her Paulina knew what she was doing, but Leyna just smiled in return and moved onto the next topic. Conversations were easy for her. Except when they were with former best friends—fiancés—Leyna considered, her eyes flitting over Xavier.

‘I’d hoped to see the new King of Kirtida here with us tonight,’ Paulina said when things were loud enough at the table that no one would overhear.

Though she could hardly manage to forget it, Leyna winced at the reminder. ‘I had, too.’

‘We should have anticipated this mess,’ Paulina continued. ‘There was always something in that boy’s eyes.’

Leyna didn’t respond, and Paulina turned her attention to the conversation beside her. Leyna was grateful. Her thoughts had clamoured at Paulina’s words, and she told herself, very deliberately, that it didn’t make her any less of a queen that she hadn’t anticipated their current situation.

It didn’t mean she’d failed her people.

She lived with the constant fear that she wasn’t doing enough. It didn’t matter how hard she worked, that fear remained. And she’d worked hard. She’d had to rebuild the morale of a kingdom that had lost its King and Queen in a matter of weeks. She’d had to earn their trust and make them believe that, though she was only twenty-one, she could be their Queen.

It had required all her time and all her attention. It had reminded her of her grandmother’s warnings. Was it any wonder she hadn’t had time for Xavier any more? She’d broken things off the minute she’d realised—really realised—how much work she had ahead of her.

It had hurt her to do so—more still when the demands of his crown hadn’t kept him from having a life. From having a relationship.

With someone who wasn’t her.

She closed her eyes against the anger, the jealousy, the resentment and pain, and fought off the loneliness that threatened to creep in. As it did almost every day.