by Katee Robert
Meg carefully applied makeup over her mostly-faded bruise. Her head still ached in the evenings, but that had as much to do with stress as with the putrid yellow color spiraling out from the side of her face. It’d be gone in another week or so. This conflict would be over by then, for better or worse. She looked over as the door opened and Theo walked in. He and Galen had been running around all day in hushed meeting after hushed meeting to get things set up for tonight, but they’d both been sending regular texts to update her.
She appreciated the effort.
Their time at Galen’s place in Greece had ripped open wounds she’d barely been aware they were creating, leaving her feeling raw and exposed. In the past, that was when she’d lash out so she felt less vulnerable, but she couldn’t do that now. She refused to. At some point, they all had to grow up and change the way they deal with hard shit. This just happened to be her moment.
She smiled at Theo. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He barely got a step into the room before the door opened again and Galen stalked in. He nodded at both of them and moved around Theo to the bedroom. His jacket hit the floor, quickly followed by his shirt, and despite seeing him shirtless more times than she could count, Meg stared.
“I brought something for you.” Theo’s amusement brought her back to herself, to the room. He hefted a garment bag over his shoulder, holding it easily despite it being in danger of trailing on the floor behind him. “I know you don’t like gifts but—”
“Wait.” She could feel Galen’s attention sharpen on her as he sat on the bed, but she didn’t look away from Theo. This small moment felt pivotal for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Meg set down her makeup brush and stood to cross to him. “Show me.”
Theo hadn’t bought her clothes personally since the disastrous night when they had to flee New York. She hadn’t appreciated it then, hadn’t appreciated any part of that clusterfuck. But it brought her to this moment, to this relationship. Meg stopped in front of him and touched his face, running her finger along the sharp line of his jaw. “I haven’t been particularly graceful about gifts, but I can do better.”
Theo captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Only if you want to.”
So careful. Ever since their fight, he had been so careful with her. Meg wrapped her arms around herself as he moved away to hang the garment bag and unzip it. No, not since the fight. Since the other thing. “Do you really want kids?” she blurted.
Theo froze. She was pretty sure Galen ceased to breathe behind her.
She should stop while she was behind, but words bubbled up, pouring out of her mouth in a river she couldn’t stop. “I’m not going to lie and say I’ve never thought about kids—even thought about kids with you guys—but it’s all been theoretical and then you just throw that out there like it’s a sure thing and…”
“I meant what I said.” Theo spoke softly. Carefully. “It’s ultimately your choice.”
Yes…but no. It wasn’t just her in this. She was one part of a triad. Since it would be her body doing the baby-making, of course she got the veto vote, but that didn’t mean their opinions didn’t matter. “Please answer the question. Do you want kids?” He glanced over her shoulder, and she tapped his chest. “Look at me, not him.”
“Yes, princess. I want kids. My parents were the cornerstone of my life, and I want…” Theo ran his hand over his head. “I want kids. I want to be a dad. Even if I wasn’t king, which requires heirs, I’d still want kids. I want a family.”
She’d known. How could she not? But it had seemed such a distant theoretical concept.
It didn’t seem the least bit theoretical now.
Meg kept her hand on Theo’s chest and turned to Galen. “And you?”
“You already have my answer.”
“I’d like it again.” When they weren’t all out of their minds from fucking.
Galen crossed his arms over his chest. “I have shit parents. I might be a shit dad.” He looked at her and then at Theo, something tortured and painful sliding through his dark eyes. “With the two of you? It’s selfish as fuck, but yeah, Meg, I want kids.”
“I had such a terrible childhood.” She didn’t know if she was speaking to Galen or Theo, but they both moved. Theo slipped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her with his body, lending her his strength. Galen closed the distance between them and did the same from the front. She inhaled deeply, letting their mixed scents wash over her. Here, in this safe space, she could give voice to the fear she’d kept wrapped in chains deep inside her for so long. “What if I’m just like her?”
“You’re not.” Theo kissed her temple. “You’re strong and bold and fierce. There’s nothing of her in you.”
“Nothing except her DNA.” Meg shuddered. All too easy to transpose herself over the memories of her mother. To taste the endless cigarettes coating her lips and throat with toxic smoke, to feel the cheap gin burning her stomach, to embrace the anger that churned deep inside her, to turn it outward at anything and everything under her control. “I’m already failing at so much. What if I fail at that, too?”
Galen gripped her chin and raised her face to meet his gaze. “Do you actually believe that?”
She started to say of course she believed that, but the weight of their bodies against her stopped her. That fear wasn’t her reality. She’d fought so damn hard to ensure it would never be her reality. Did Meg actually think that she carried around some kind of time bomb in her genes that would explode the second she had a baby?
Ever since she was a kid, she’d carved her own way, had fought against the current that only seemed to travel to one destination. A future like her mother’s. Even when she was eight, she knew she didn’t want that. Did she really believe that a lifetime of choosing her own path would suddenly be worthless?
No.
“No,” she forced out.
Galen nodded. “Then the only question remains is if you want kids.”
It really wasn’t much of an argument, after all. “Yes.” In her heart of hearts, there had always been part of her that put children under the column of “someday.” It had always just been a distant thought, a far-off plan. “Eventually, yes.”
“There’s no rush.” Theo gave her a squeeze. “Whenever you’re ready.”
He might as well have told her that they were ready, but she appreciated the thought. Meg closed her eyes and let herself relax into their embrace. “Later. After we’ve gotten through this particular nightmare. After I finish my degree. Then…” God, she couldn’t believe she was even saying this. “Then we can talk about having babies.”
“Works for us.” Galen pressed a quick kiss to her mouth and moved away before she could sink into it. “Better check out the dress Theo picked for you before you hurt his feelings.”
“Galen.” The warning note in Theo’s voice battled with something that might be joy.
She turned in his arms and, yeah, he was grinning like a fool. “You were really worried about that conversation.”
“Yes.” He gave one of those single shoulder shrugs. “I always knew where Galen stood on the subject, but your history meant you could fall on either side of that line. We hadn’t talked about it.”
They hadn’t had any reason to talk about it. She shook her head. “You could have just asked me.”
“I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”
Meg snorted. “Since when?”
“This is different. Children aren’t like bedroom games or the power plays we make for entertainment. They aren’t even part of the larger balance within Thalania.”
He honestly believed that. Maybe it was even true. “They’d be part of it by virtue of their father…fathers? How the hell would that even work?” It had sounded sexy as hell—scary but definitely sexy—when he was staking his and Galen’s claim on her in Greece, but the semantics didn’t quite iron out so evenly.
“We wouldn’t do a DNA test. I would simply formall
y adopt whatever children we have so that there’s no contesting their claim to the throne.”
“But that means that Galen isn’t their legal father.” She twisted to look at him, but he was merely watching this conversation play out as if he already knew how it ended and was impatient to get onto the next part. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
“I could give a fuck what other people think. We have a mostly equal relationship, and that’s what will matter within the family unit.” He made a face. “Though there’s bound to be some noble having an apoplexy over the idea, or one of the distant Families thinking that they can use the ‘problematic’ genetic line to get a toe up in the power pyramid.”
“They’ll have to marry into the Families.”
“Maybe.”
Meg looked from Theo to Galen and back again. They’d obviously talked about this at length if they already had the future marriages of their very theoretical children planned out. “That seems like a shitty thing to demand just because we made the choices we did.”
“It might be for naught.” Theo gave another of his shrugs. “A lot can change in a few decades. Nothing is set in stone.” He set her back a little and moved to put some distance between them. He almost always did that when he was about to put her on the spot. “You don’t have to make a decision now. Or tomorrow. Or next year.”
“Then you shouldn’t have brought it up.” Because she wouldn’t be able to think of anything else.
“You’re right.”
The fact he didn’t even argue or try to turn her statement around told her more than anything else put together. Theo really, really wanted kids. She wanted to tell him that of course they’d have a boatload of babies with dark hair, some with fathomless blue eyes and some with secret dark eyes. But when Meg opened her mouth, Theo pressed his fingers to her lips. “No, princess. Don’t give us an answer right now, because you’re going to give the one you know we want to hear. Take your time and think it over. There isn’t a clock winding down on this one.”
“Okay.” The moment stretched out between the three of them, full with a future Meg suddenly wanted so badly, she could barely breathe past it. If she closed her eyes, she’d be able to see the life Theo wanted for them.
He’d be an overly indulgent dad, while simultaneously demanding that their children be their best selves, teaching them how to chase what they wanted while balancing it against the needs of their country. Galen? She could almost see him with a little girl on his knee, pretending to be put-upon to tell her one more story, but so blatantly wrapped around her little finger that Meg’s heart actually leapt. And Meg? She pictured warm cuddles and laughter and a fierce protectiveness that took her breath away.
Theo might not want her answer yet, but she already knew what it would be. If she was perfectly honest with herself, she’d known the answer the second she decided to follow Theo into Thalania. He was king. A king required heirs, even in unconventional situations like theirs.
Speaking of…
“What would you have done if I said I didn’t want kids?”
Theo considered her. “It would depend on the reasons and which part you’re opposed to. If it’s everything about pregnancy and children, then I’ll pass the throne to Edward’s children.”
He would, too. There was no slyness on his face, no manipulations to ensure the outcome was one he wanted. He would honestly allow the throne to pass to his little brother’s future children, rather than push Meg into a role she wasn’t comfortable with. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Now, try on the dress. Everyone’s arrived, and dinner starts in just over an hour.”
14
Theo walked into the sitting room with Galen on one arm and Meg on the other. The former glowered at everyone in his impeccable tux, and the latter was resplendent in the violet gown he’d commissioned for her. With the expert makeup job she’d done, even he couldn’t pick up traces of her bruise, and she carried herself as if floating on the ground. A trick she’d mastered somewhere along the way while he wasn’t paying attention.
He wouldn’t be so lax in the future. He’d missed things. Important things.
The invitation he’d sent Galen to deliver specified that the Head of Family was invited, as well as their heir. Theo let his attention drift around the large room and the people who’d gathered at his summons. Lady Nibley appeared to be sleeping, but she startled awake as he guided Meg into a chair near the fireplace. Lady Vann tried to subtly check out Meg’s face, no doubt having heard the rumors of her injury, but when she caught Theo watching her, she turned her attention to her wine glass. The most notable addition to the room was none other than Noemi Huxley, sitting in a large chair on the other side of the fireplace, her cousin Wendy at standing at attention at her side. She’d formally filed the paperwork to be recognized as Head of Huxley a few hours ago, and the former Lord Huxley now occupied a space in a cell a few floors down where Kozlov no doubt had someone interviewing him.
Being part of an attack on the Consort was nothing less than treason, and the charges would be handled as such.
It was too much to hope that he could name everyone else involved in the process, but they hadn’t been lucky up to this point. They were due a turn in their favor.
He couldn’t afford to count on them getting it, though.
Theo nodded at Noemi and he and Galen took up positions on either side of Meg’s chair. Custom dictated Theo was supposed to sit and his Consorts stand behind him, but with all the political players in the room, he felt better being on his feet and able to see the entirety of the room—including Meg. “Thank you for attending tonight.”
Lady Nibley harrumphed. “Didn’t give us much choice, did you?” She turned to Meg and leaned forward, peering up at her from beneath impressive gray brows. “You look well enough. Good for you. Don’t let something as petty as assassins get you down.”
“Grandmother,” her heir hissed. “Show some respect.”
“I’m ninety years old, pup. I don’t have time to waste in the political dancing around.” She met Theo’s gaze. “You want to find the responsible parties. The Nibley Family will lend you any assistance you need to ensure that the traitors are found and brought to justice.” A lengthy pause. “Assuming your word is good to bring my grandson back into the fold, of course.”
“Of course.” He’d known that was coming. No helping hand was offered without strings attached, Noemi and Lady Nibley included. Since Theo had already decided that neither woman was likely to be involved in the attempt on Meg’s life, he was inclined to meet their demands. This world was all about give and take, and their current situation was no different.
Lord Bakaj toyed with the stem of his wine glass, watching them with dark eyes. “We heard you had some trouble.”
“Nothing we couldn’t sort out,” Theo responded easily. He looked around the room. All eyes had been on him—on all three of them—the second they walked through the door, but it was still a vital part of the dance to posture a little and wait for them to acknowledge he had their full attention. “The reason I requested your presence tonight is to formally recognize Noemi Huxley as the new Head of Family Huxley.” New Head of Families were always welcomed officially by both the reigning monarch and the other six Head of Families.
All heads turned in Noemi’s direction, and she inclined her head, as regal as a queen. If Theo hadn’t considered her a friend for a good portion of his life, he might have missed the faint shadows lurking in her eyes. This might be a realization of her life’s ambition, but it hadn’t come without cost. He just hoped it was worth it.
“The formal acknowledgement will happen in the throne room after drinks.” He forced a charming smile, knowing it looked natural even as it felt like it stretched his face like half-melted wax. There wasn’t much to smile about at the moment, not with danger lurking so close. “Lords and ladies, please partake of my table and enjoy yourselves.” Customary words to go with a customary situation.
Except there was nothing customary about this.
He didn’t trust himself to touch Meg, to reassure all of them that this was only pretend and enacting the plan they’d all put into place the day before. Appearances were everything, and they all had their roles to play.
With that in mind, he drifted toward Noemi. She looked particularly stunning tonight, dressed in a red couture gown that outshone nearly everyone in the room. Not Meg. Not Galen. But then, he was hardly an impartial party. Noemi saw him coming and gave him a bright smile. “Your Majesty.”
“Come now, you know better than that. Theo. Always Theo.” He took her offered hand and pressed a perfectly polite kiss to her knuckles. Theo forced his thumb to play over them before he released her. A tiny touch that would have gone unnoticed and unremarked upon if the room was occupied with any other group of people. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Ever the politician, she kept her smile firmly in place, but her blue eyes flicked to Meg and back to him. “How is the Consort doing?”
“Galen’s perfectly fine.”
A tiny line appeared between her brows. “That’s not the Consort I meant.”
“Mmm.” Every word dragged its claws through him, a betrayal that was only for show, but still felt so fucking wrong. It didn’t matter how unnatural this was, that he would never ever pull a play like this normally, that Meg and Galen knew the truth. He wanted to call the whole thing off.
Impossible.
To back away now was to miss the chance to out their enemies, to put a stop to this insidious treason once and for all.
Theo raked his gaze over Noemi. “You look stunning tonight.”
“Thank you.” She shifted closer and lowered her voice. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but I want no part of it.”
He reached up and tucked a stray strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Too late.”
Heels clicking behind him might as well have been drums pounding out a call to battle. Noemi’s eyes went wide and she stumbled back a step, and then Meg was there, gorgeous in her fury. “What the fuck is going on here, Theo?”
