by Jessa Kane
She collapses into my arms a moment later and I hold her, stroking a hand down her hair and rocking her, our bodies still joined.
I knew you wouldn’t leave me. I knew you would realize…
The words she said echo in my skull, filing me with a sense of trepidation.
She thinks I’m staying.
Why wouldn’t she?
I’ve just rutted her once again after making a vow to leave. I haven’t been true to my own word. Have I…have I led her on?
That implies she has genuine feelings for me.
And I’m slowly beginning to believe she might. Impossible as it seems, I’m more than just security to her. My heart wants to rejoice. It orders me to kneel and beg her to be mine until the sun burns out of the sky. But is that what’s best for her?
No.
No, I’m not a king.
That is not in debate.
I’m unqualified. Unroyal. Unsightly.
Beneath her.
I have to help her see that. I have to do what’s best for Britta.
“What you said before, love…about me not leaving…”
She lifts her head and smiles at me, turning my throat crowded. “You are staying, right?” Her voice is so hopeful, it rends me in two. “You wouldn’t have…I mean…” Her face is starting to turn pink. “You wouldn’t have made love to me again if you were really going. You will be my king, Rex. Of course you will.”
Her king?
Oh God, I’ve been a selfish bastard. I’ve behaved atrociously.
“Will you be my king, Rex?” she asks haltingly, doubt already dancing in her eyes.
“Britta…” I begin unevenly, at a loss for words. There’s no way to explain myself. She was scared, she needed me, so I provided. I didn’t see this far in the future.
I’ve made her think the impossible was possible.
When I fail to continue, she pushes out of my hold, her feet settling on the earth for the first time since our embrace began. “You slept beside me that first night. You held me so tightly. A-and…you’ve kissed me, touched me, been inside of me. Did those moments mean nothing?”
Each one was a fucking gift from God.
But if I say that out loud, I’m leading her on further, aren’t I?
Worse than I’ve already done beneath the cover of these trees?
Me being king of Downsriver is a laughable idea and I’ve already established, I’m not standing by and watching her wed another.
All I can do here is let her go.
She will thank me one day. She will.
“All of those things, Your Majesty…” I swallow a handful of razor blades. “You ordered me to do them.”
Her face turns pale and for one horrible moment, I think she’s going to pass out.
“Rex…” she breathes, her voice dull, ghost-like. “You have broken my heart and it will never, ever be repaired.”
And then she turns and walks away.
“Britta,” I choke out, almost dropping to my knees. I’ve been shot full of arrows. She doesn’t stop, doesn’t glance back once on her way back to the palace.
What have I done?
Why doesn’t this feel like the right thing?
Blindly, I stumble toward the passed out imposter, searching him for weapons before stooping down and throwing him over my shoulder. Just get him to the authorities and go. That’s all I can do. I have hurt the queen and I should not be allowed within the palace walls.
I’m aching head to toe as I haul the unconscious man to the tower beside the palace, where the dungeons are located. I throw him down inside a cell and order it to be locked until the queen herself orders him set free, no exceptions, and then I start for the stables to collect my horse, my longing eyes on the queen’s bedchamber window all the while.
Is she in there? Crying?
Did I really break her heart? How is that I was capable of doing so?
I’m preparing to mount my horse when I hear the commotion.
It’s not the typical commotion heard within the palace walls.
This is much louder. There is shouting, men racing pasts on their mounts, guards firing arrows from the towers of the palace.
“We’re under attack!” someone shouts. “Soldiers from Northstream.”
My soul leaves my fucking body.
Under attack?
Britta.
Britta is in danger.
Who else is the biggest target but the queen?
With a bellow lodged in my throat, I sprint for the palace, sword drawn.
I realize in that split second that I’ve been an utter fool. I might have left, allowed her to marry another, but I would have come back again and again, every time she was in danger or facing difficulty. Staying away would have been impossible. But I’ve lost her now. I’ve lost her.
And now she could very well die before I reach her.
9
Britta
It hasn’t hit me until just now that I am the queen.
Yes, I knew the title was mine. But I am an eighteen-year-old girl with a broken heart, my parents are dead, my kingdom is under attack and there are dozens of men looking to me for orders that simply will not arrive on my tongue.
Richard has been apoplectic since I informed him of the attempt on my life at the hands of Corwin—if that was even his real name. “Your Majesty, I assure you, Prince Corwin is royalty. He comes from the finest lineage. His titles are many! He must have been replaced by a spy. That is the only explanation.”
“A spy from Northstream, no doubt,” I say, finding my voice. “They wanted to remove the queen before attacking. And they would have succeeded, if it wasn’t for…”
I can’t bring myself to say his name.
All of those things, Your Majesty…you ordered me to do them.
If I do not die today, I think those words will echo in my ears for the rest of my life. Because Rex is right. I did order him to touch me, kiss me, make love to me. I was just so sure he would have done those things anyway. That he needed my affections as much as I needed his. How could I have been so wrong? One day as a queen and already abusing my power. I ought to be sent to the gallows.
“I demand to be hidden!”
In a daze, I turn my head to the bald prince with bushy eyebrows. Is he still here? Why?
“Is there not a safe room for royalty?” The prince blusters, scurrying around the great hall. “I demand to be taken there at once. This is outrageous!”
“Perhaps we should bring both the queen and Prince Egregious to the safe hold below floors,” suggests Richard to the court, visibly grasping at straws. “There, they can marry. With a king on the throne, perhaps Northstream will retreat, fearing retaliation from two kingdoms.”
Behind me, there is a loud crash, as if a door has been kicked open.
I assume it’s the enemy and fear strikes my chest, but when I turn, it’s Rex.
He’s striding into the great hall with hell in his eyes.
But it hurts to look at him and remember what he said, so I turn away quickly. “No,” I say to Richard. Then louder, “No. Hear me now, all who listen. I will marry no man. Today alone, one has tried to kill me, another is displaying his cowardice and another still has cut the heart straight from my body. I will not marry. Not now. Not ever. Do not ask me again!”
Richard bows his head. “Yes, my queen.”
“Go hide the prince, as he wishes,” I order one of the guards.
“You need to be hidden, too, Britta,” Rex says, sounding hoarse. “You need to go somewhere safe. Immediately. Please.”
“No. I won’t.” Talking hurts. Standing upright hurts. Everything hurts. “And you’ve been relieved of your duties as my guard. Please go.”
“No.”
Fire presses in behind my eyes. “No?”
“No. I am not leaving you.” Rex shakes his head, takes a step in my direction. “I will protect my queen. Always.”
I shake my head. “No. You’ll protect th
e people.” That’s what I want, I realize. That is the order I need to give. A queen’s top priority is her people. However, I’m inexperienced and I don’t know how to command the men. One day I will. But for now, I am tongue tied.
It’s amazing what happens next.
I look at Rex and he seems to read my mind perfectly. He sees my desires and conflicts and exhaustion and he steps to my side, facing the audience of commanders and members of the court with an air of authority I have not witnessed in him before. “You. Take a dozen solders and warn Downsriver’s subjects. Tell them to move quickly to the east field, women and children first.” He moves his attention to a different commander. “You. The men in the towers need reinforcements immediately. Bring them more weapons from the stronghold. Keep them back from the palace at all costs. No one breaches its walls and gets near the queen—is that understood?”
“Yes,” they say in unison, beginning to look hopeful.
“Has the spy awoken?” I say, some of my composure returning. “Interrogate him. If he was sent to spy for Northstream, he might know their battle plan.”
Rex nods. “They have the element of surprise, but we know the land. We need to use that. Lure them in the direction of the inlet where the boats are moored. Have our soldiers cross the river in the boats and circle back around on foot. The Northstream soldiers will be left on the water’s edge with no way to cross.”
“They killed my parents,” I say, voice thick with emotion. “They tried to kill me, too. Drown them like rats.”
“Savage, my queen,” Rex says, giving me a seeking look. “I like it.”
The corner of my mouth tugs, but I beat back the smile. “And what will you do?”
Rex’s brows draw together and he looks out across the men taking up arms. The men who are complying with his orders, as well as mine. And he seems at a loss, which serves to frustrate me further. Doesn’t he see that they snapped into action as soon as he opened his mouth. Doesn’t he see how it might have been if we ruled side by side? I have the urge to show him now. To let him witness what he’s lost.
Or maybe I just love him beyond reason and want to show him his potential.
“You will lead, Rexington,” I say quietly. “You will lead.”
Uncertainty flickers in his eyes, but it’s in his nature to obey me, so he swallows once and nods. Gives me a long, final, memorizing look and strides off down the center of the men, soldiers hastening to create a path for their new leader.
An image of my giant lying in a pile of bloodied corpses freezes my blood. As if I needed any further proof that my love for him is still alive and well, perhaps even growing by the second. “And you will not die!” I cry out, before Rex can reach the doors of the great hall.
Rex stops, pausing with his hand on the frame, then continues on into the fray, dragging my heart along behind him.
Rex
Our plan—mine and Britta’s—works.
We push the Northstream soldiers to the edge of the inlet, circle around and come at them from the other direction, sending them swimming for their lives. Halfway through the battle, I receive word at the frontlines that Britta’s would-be assassin has given information about a second wave of soldiers, prompting me to lead dozens of men in a surprise attack at the kingdom’s perimeter.
The sun is beginning to dip on the horizon when the tide turns and Northstream retreats. With the threat of violence under control and the queen safe, I order the injured men to be taken to the east field where they can be attended to immediately. And with my adrenaline waning, I start to replay the last bloody hours of battle in my mind. I hear my voice shouting over the din of horse hooves and clashing of swords. I was asked to lead and I did so, because the queen asked it of me.
I never expected it to feel so natural.
Or for everyone to listen.
A man takes off his helmet now and regards me with respect as I move quickly back toward the palace, eager to see with my own eyes that Britta is unharmed.
Another solider performs the same gesture. And then another. And another.
A seed of pride is planted in my chest and begins to grow, nurtured by humility and a fair amount of shock. “Thank you,” I mutter, passing them.
“No, Downsriver thanks you, Rexington Monroe,” one of them calls at my back. “We’d have been flying the Northstream flag without you.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I nod and keep walking. But the closer I get to the palace, the more pressure invades my chest. Earlier today, the love of my life asked me to be her king and I turned her down, so certain I didn’t have what it took.
Is it possible…I do?
Jesus Christ, I almost hope not, because the timing of this realization could not be worse. I heard her vow never to marry. I heard the conviction in her tone. Any chance I had is gone. I’ve lost Britta…and I’m beginning to think I could have kept her.
No. Hear me now, all who listen. I will marry no man. Today alone, one has tried to kill me, another is displaying his cowardice and another still has cut the heart straight from my body. I will not marry. Not now. Not ever. Do not ask me again!
With those words banging around in my skull, I stop at the doors to the palace, rubbing at the center of my chest with the heel of my hand. My heart feels like it’s being choked by a garrote. I could have been her king, couldn’t I? More importantly, her husband. Her lover and friend. The father of her children. Who would have thought it possible? I am a leader after all. I’m not the butt of my sisters’ jokes or the pudgy, overlarge blacksmith. I’m a soldier. I’m a man that was wanted by the most incredible, fiercely beautiful girl on this earth.
Apparently I’m also a squandering fool.
Swallowing hard, I pull open the doors of the palace, clanking through the vestibule and into the great hall. Britta looks up sharply at my entrance and shoots to her feet, a hand flying to the arm of her throne, as if to steady herself.
Her lower lip trembles, her eyes growing luminous.
Love is like two hands squeezing me around the throat.
And I know in that moment there is no giving up.
My life will be a shambles without her.
I rip off my helmet and throw it aside, followed by my breastplate. The armor on my legs comes off next, which is imperative, so I can kneel in front of her. And I do that now. I kneel in front of my queen and beg for my life. “Ask me again,” I rasp loudly. Loud enough for the gathered soldiers and members of the court to hear. “Please, Britta. Ask me again to be your king.”
Her silence is like a knife slash.
Ah God, I hurt her so badly. It is agony knowing this.
But giving up is not an option.
I’ll never give up. On her. On us.
“Ask me to be your king again, so I can tell you I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you—every moment of it my own free will—since the day you rode in a procession past my home. I left my job to be near you, to guard you day and night, my love, because there is no one more precious in any kingdom. Worshipping a girl as thoroughly as I worship you, my queen, it was hard to imagine myself belonging at your side, but I would stand there a proud and fortunate man, if you will have me. I’m sorry I was a fool before. Please ask me again,” I finish brokenly.
I look up to find tears coursing down her cheeks.
For a long moment, however, she says nothing.
Until, miracle of miracles, she reaches down and brushes her fingertips down my face, bringing them away wet, studying them. “Will you be my king, Rexington Monroe?”
Joy and relief and love explode within me. She has taken me back. She has taken me back against all odds and I can barely breathe. “It would be an honor.”
I lunge to my feet and after what seems like a lifetime, Britta is back in my arms, and I carry my future wife out of the great hall to the tune of soldiers bashing their metal helmets on stone and shouting their approval. Shorty after, the members of the court add their voice to the chorus.
Epilogue
Britta
Five years later
I’m gathering a bouquet of wildflowers on the hill, watching the sun dive into the ocean, when I hear my husband approaching with our son. They are in the midst of one of their very serious, very manly riding lessons, so I don’t call out to them. Rex rushed home from his training session with Downsriver’s new and improved army to catch the last rays of sunshine, so I meander around back of the new stone lookout tower, intending to give them their bonding time. At least until their conversation carries to me on the salt air.
“My tutor says laziness is a sin. Is it, Da?”
“Not once everything important is done,” Rex answers. “Or if it’s Sunday. No such thing as laziness on Sunday.”
“Ohhh.” I can see Braiden nodding solemnly in my mind’s eye. He’s currently in a phase where he asks approximately ninety-nine questions per minute and we’re trying to be very patient about it. “What else is a sin?”
“Oh…stealing. Killing. Lying is the worst one, though.”
“Why is lying the worst one?” Braiden asks.
“A man might steal to feed his family or kill to save an innocent. Those are sins that can be forgiven, but lying takes away a man’s honor.”
“Have you ever lied?”
“I twisted the truth once,” Rex says, a shiver in his voice. “And it almost cost me your mother. Almost cost me my happiness. My life.”
Braiden gasps. “Fecking hell, Da.”
