“Oh, Theo,” Cara says, hooking her elbow around mine and leaning her head against my shoulder. “That was incredible.”
“You have a beautiful voice.” My voice is tight, and it’s hard to speak past the lump in my throat. I want to say so much more. I wish I could tell her how moved I was, listening to them, or how much joy it brought me to see her happy.
Instead, I say nothing. We just walk, arm in arm, back toward the pier.
“Thank you,” Cara says, pausing to look at me.
I turn to face her. My heart stutters as I see the sun shining on her skin. She’s glowing. Her long, brown hair frames her face so perfectly, she looks almost ethereal. An angel sent here to show me what really matters in life. Her eyes glimmer in the sunlight, and emotion threatens to knock me back.
In that moment, standing in a narrow street on one of Argyle’s smaller islands, I know that Cara means more to me than I realized.
I want to see her look this happy all the time. It matters to me that she’s happy. Not as a friend. Not as a citizen of Argyle. Not because it’s my duty to care, as King. I care about her. Deeply. Unconditionally.
More than I realized.
“It was nothing,” I finally manage to say. “I wanted to do something you’d enjoy on this tour. I know the official events are boring.”
“Nothing is boring with you,” she smiles. “But no one’s ever done anything like that for me. Mother wouldn’t even let me have voice lessons. She said it was beneath our family’s station.”
“Prudence seemed to think you did well.”
“She was amazing, wasn’t she?” Cara’s face breaks into a smile as her eyes get a faraway look in them. “It was like every note she sang was just dripping with emotion. She could convey so much with her voice.” Cara shakes her head. “I’ve never felt so excited about singing. Even though I’ve always loved it, I… I don’t know. That was incredible.”
“There are lots of good singers in Argyle,” I smile, tucking a strand of hair behind Cara’s ear. “You’re one of them.”
A blush reddens her cheeks and the emotion inside me swells.
This is what I want. That shine in Cara’s eyes. The life and happiness bubbling up inside her. The inspiration in her voice.
I want to make Cara Shoal happy.
Even though we’re out on the street and anyone could see us, I can’t help myself. I lean forward and brush my lips against Cara’s, kissing her in the middle of this colorful, narrow street. She melts into me, placing her hands on my chest as I deepen our kiss—and I feel whole.
It’s not fake. It’s not temporary.
What I feel for Cara is real, and it’s not going away…
…I just hope she feels it, too.
16
Cara
Being on tour with Theo is like living in a dream. I’m waited on hand and foot as we fly from beautiful royal villa to beautiful royal villa. The people of Argyle are adoring and happy, and I get to experience a new side of the Kingdom that I haven’t had a chance to see before.
I’ve lived a sheltered life. Even though my upbringing was comfortable, I realize that I haven’t really seen much of my own home Kingdom.
I haven’t seen the crowded markets and the hidden beaches. I haven’t seen the rich history that unites every island.
Maybe that’s why I’ve been wanting to run away—because as the days pass, I realize that’s what I’ve been doing. Running away. Packing my bags and jumping ship, so I don’t have to deal with the oppressive weight of my family’s expectations.
I don’t feel like running away anymore, because for the first time, my family’s expectations are aligning with what I want—Theo.
We spend a week tangled in bedsheets together when we’re in private. During the day, we visit all corners of the Kingdom and connect with the people that Theo will one day rule.
One day soon. I see the weight of Theo’s duties carried on his broad shoulders. Sometimes, when no one is looking, I see the lines deepen on his face. He cares about his people, and he wants to be a good king.
I didn’t understand it before. When we were kids, I thought Theo was too responsible. Too boring. I didn’t understand that through him runs a deep well of kindness and a sense of importance. Like every action he takes is significant.
Now, I get it. Theo has a purpose. He has the one thing that I’ve wanted to find—what I thought I would discover if I left Argyle. He knows what he needs to do in life, and every action he takes is carefully considered to align with his duties.
A week into our tour, we visit a small nursing home on one of the more populated islands of the Kingdom. An old man with a shock of white hair and mottled skin smiles at Theo, revealing big gaps in his teeth. He waves the Prince closer to his wheelchair, his smile widening.
“Tell your father I’m very proud of him, Your Highness,” the old man says, patting Theo’s hand.
“I will, sir.”
One of the nurses apologizes and tries to quiet the old man down. The old man waves her away.
“He did great things in this Kingdom when he was a young man. It’ll be your time, soon.”
Theo nods politely.
The old man leans back in his wheelchair, staring at the Prince. “You have to be strong. Make sure you have a good woman by your side, because being a leader is a heavy burden to bear alone. Your father could have continued building this country up if he’d had a faithful wife by his side. It was only after she betrayed him that things went to shit.”
“Thomas!” the nurse chides, her cheeks turning bright red. “That’s no way to talk about our royal family. Your Highness, I—”
“It’s fine,” Theo says, smiling sadly. “He’s right.”
Theo’s eyes slide to me, and a dagger pierces my heart. In that brief glance, I realize what I’ve been afraid to admit to myself: I want to be the good woman by his side. The one to support him, to help him bear the weight of the crown.
Not because it’s the Crown, and I feel like it’s my duty to help. But because it’s Theo who has to bear it.
My priorities are shifting. Day by day, I realize I don’t want to run away. I don’t need to leave to find myself. There are things right here in Argyle that are worth staying for.
That evening, when Theo and I are alone in the royal villa, Theo has a faraway look on his face. We’re sitting on a plush sofa, watching the waves crash on the shore. I thread my fingers through the Prince’s.
“You’re going to make a great king,” I say softly.
Theo turns his head to glance at me, smiling. “That old man was right, you know.”
“About what?” I keep my face steady as my heart thumps. I know exactly what he’s talking about.
“About my father falling apart when my mother left.”
A lump forms in my throat. The controversy between the King and former Queen rocked the Kingdom when it happened all those years ago. The former Queen had an affair with the King’s brother, and the two of them ran off together.
After that, the King fell into a depression. He isolated himself, and the economy started falling apart. Trade deals faltered. The people of Argyle suffered.
“What happened, exactly?” My voice is small.
“Pretty much what the newspapers said. My mother cheated, and it broke my father’s heart. After she left, I think he had no interest in ruling anymore. It all became too much for him.”
“Maybe it’s better to go into it alone,” I say softly. “Becoming King without a Queen means you can’t get hurt.”
“I used to think that,” Theo says, meeting my eye. “I’m not so sure anymore.”
The lump in my throat turns into a massive boulder. It’s hard to swallow, let alone speak. Our hands are still interlaced, and I’m worried that Theo can feel the violence of my heart banging against my ribcage.
“I don’t know if I can do it alone, Cara.” His voice is soft, and his eyes are full of pain. “My father will step down soon. H
e has to. Once that happens, who can I trust?”
“Your brothers,” I answer.
Theo snorts, shaking his head. “Luca might never come back. Dante is content to deal with palace security and stare at computers all day. Beckett still thinks he doesn’t belong here. I’m alone, Cara.”
“You’re not.” You have me.
The words stay stuck in my throat. The look on Theo’s face pierces through my heart as pain shatters across my chest.
I don’t ever want to see him in pain. Reaching over to stroke his jaw, I press my lips to his.
“You’ll be a great king, Theo.”
He gives me a tight smile. “Maybe.”
I want to tell him everything in my heart. Everything that has changed over the past week, and everything he’s made me realize.
I don’t need to leave to feel free. I don’t need an adventure. I don’t need independence.
Slowly, day by day, hour by hour, Theo is making me realize that the only thing I need is love.
We make love that night. It’s different from all the other times, slower and more tender. Theo stares into my eyes, and it feels like there are a million things he wants to say.
There are a million things I want to say. Like the fact that I don’t want to leave at all. Going to singing school or on some solo international adventure doesn’t seem so important anymore. The thought of leaving terrifies me, but not because I’m scared of the big bad world.
Because I’m scared of losing Theo.
For the first time in a long, long time, I feel like somebody sees me. Theo sees the real me. He took time out of his busy royal schedule to introduce me to one of our kingdom’s best musicians. He knows how important music is to me, and he wanted to show me he cared.
He took me out on the sailboat when he knew I had suffered from Luca’s silence.
He understood how much I wanted to leave, and instead of trying to convince me to stay, he took me on this trip to protect me from the pressure that might stop me from going.
No one else treats me like that. No one else sees me like a fully formed human being with thoughts and opinions and feelings. No one else respects me enough to really, truly see me.
My mother thinks of me as an investment. My father still acts like I’m four years old and learning to swim with him. My sisters are busy with their own lives and husbands, and they’re content to live the life that was set out for them.
As I lie in bed beside the future King of Argyle, I realize that Theo is the only person that has taken the time to get to know me—and he likes me for me. Maybe even more than ‘like.’ I’ve seen a different side of Theo. A different side of myself.
The energy changed on that sailboat, and it’s grown into something bigger.
Maybe the great tragedy of my life wasn’t losing Luca, after all. It’s that I’m falling for Theo, even though I have no right to be with him at all.
Two weeks later, when we land back at the royal pier on Argyle’s main island, a feeling of dread curls in the pit of my stomach. As soon as I step off the sea plane, nausea rises up in my throat. It’s the same nausea that has started plaguing my days and nights. I thought I was just apprehensive of this trip coming to an end, but now I’m not so sure.
Stumbling to the edge of the pier, I throw up into the crystalline blue waters.
Theo yelps, rushing over to help me. His broad, warm hand stays on my back as I spit the last of my bile into the water, sucking in a deep breath. My fingers cling to the wooden pier and I squeeze my eyes shut. The nausea subsides and I’m able to inhale again.
I spit the last of my bitter bile into the water, frowning.
That was weird.
“Cara, are you okay?” Theo is still beside me. I turn to see concern written all over his features. Worry is etched into his face like a mask. He helps me to my feet, staring into my eyes. “I’ll call the doctor. Come back to the palace with me.”
“I’m fine,” I say, waving a hand. “It’s probably just seasickness.”
“You grew up on the sea, Cara. You’ve been flying in that plane almost every day for the past three weeks. You’ve never been seasick as long as I’ve known you. Even when we were being tossed around the ocean on that sailboat for the solstice, you never even got nauseous.”
“It’s nothing.” I try to shrug Theo off, but he won’t let go.
“Come back to the palace.” His lips flatten—and there it is. That commanding voice that I’m powerless to resist.
Slumping my shoulders, I nod. “Fine.”
“Good.”
Theo hooks his uninjured arm around my back, his other hand still propped up in a sling.
“I guess the doctor can have a look at your shoulder at the same time.” I accept a bottle of water from one of the royal staff with a grateful nod, swishing it around my mouth and spitting it out onto the sand.
How regal of me.
One thing’s for sure—I’m definitely not a future Queen. Theo doesn’t seem to notice, though. He just stays by my side as we walk down the white, pebbled path toward the palace.
My gut still churns, and an awful taste clings to the back of my throat. Worry snakes its way around the base of my skull. There’s one explanation for my nausea that doesn’t involve seasickness, but I can’t bring myself to think of it right now.
As soon as the word pregnancy pops up in my mind, I chase it away. It’s too complicated. Too messy. Too permanent.
We walk to the small outbuilding that acts as a medical clinic for the royal family.
Perks of being royalty: on-site doctor visits.
The doctor and nurses take blood and urine samples and runs a few basic tests. I get asked a dozen questions, and by the end of the examination I’m more exhausted than when I started.
I only threw up once. Sure, I’ve been near the ocean since I was a little girl and basically grew up swimming and running around sailboats, but a bit of seasickness shouldn’t warrant this much fuss.
As the doctor examines Theo’s shoulder, a nurse pokes her head back into the room.
She clears her throat. “Doctor, could I have a word?”
The doctor grunts, and then helps Theo back into his sling. “Looks good for now, but we’ll need at least two more weeks in that sling. You were lucky that nothing tore badly. Should be a quick recovery. Six weeks should do it, and then we can start physical therapy.”
The man nods at us, then follows the nurse out the door. I lean back in my chair, sinking into soft cushions as exhaustion settles into my bones.
“I’m fine, Theo. Really. I should just go home.”
“So why do you look pale? People don’t just puke for no reason, Cara.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine. Just need some sleep.”
A soft knock on the door tells us the doctor is back. Theo calls him in, and the old man shuffles back through the door with his chin tucked against his chest.
He clears his throat before running his fingers through his hair. The doctor finally raises his eyes to mine, and my stomach drops.
I know what he’s going to say before he even speaks a word. Call it female intuition. Call it a premonition. Call it whatever you want.
Before the doctor says a word, I already know I’m pregnant.
17
Theo
When the doctor asks to speak to Cara alone, my heart drops.
Something’s wrong. Very wrong.
Cara’s face is white as a sheet, and I can sense the tension rippling off her in waves. She meets my eyes, dipping her chin down a fraction of an inch to let me know it’s okay.
I clear my throat, wanting to say something. What can I say, though?
Both the doctor and Cara are staring at me, waiting for me to step out of the room. I hover near the door, trying not to eavesdrop but still listening to the muffled sounds of voices on the other side.
The sound of footsteps makes me lift my head. My brother Beckett walks toward me, his trademarked scowl permane
ntly carved into his face.
“Hey, brother,” he says. “Or should I say Your Majesty? Not yet, eh? When’s the old man stepping down?”
I let out a sigh, reaching out to shake Beckett’s hand. He’s always had a chip on his shoulder, and I don’t understand why. He may be a half-brother, technically—the love-child of my mother and my father’s brother—but we’ve always treated him as family. Even after my mother left with my uncle, there was no question that Beckett should be here with us. He’s my brother.
Yet, I’ve always gotten the sense that deep-seated jealousy is embedded in his heart.
“How was your trip?” I ask, ignoring my brother’s question.
Beckett shrugs. “It was fine. Father told me I’d find you here. How’s your shoulder?”
“Doctor thinks I’ll be able to take the sling off in two weeks.”
Beckett grunts. A wicked grin twists his lips. “I’d pay good money to have Cara Shoal dislocate my shoulder,” he guffaws, and I tense.
I don’t like hearing him speak about Cara like that. Heat flows into my chest. Anger flares inside me, flushing my face and making my ears burn. Protective, animalistic instinct wakes up inside me, lifting its ugly head and staring at Beckett.
He notices.
“What?” He frowns, his lips twisting into an ugly grin. “You don’t care about her, do you?”
“She’s been a friend of the family for years.” Somehow, it feels wrong to deny my feelings, even if I’m just talking to my brother.
Beckett arches an eyebrow, smirking. An uncomfortable feeling gurgles in my stomach.
I love my brother. I do. But sometimes, there’s something about Beckett that doesn’t sit well with me. He always seems like he’s holding back. Like he’s not telling the whole truth.
When his eyes meet mine, Beckett arches an eyebrow. It’s almost like a challenge, daring me to say something.
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