The Throne

by Samantha Whiskey

  “No. There’s nothing you could say or do that would ever make me give her up.”

  “Even though I’m carrying your baby?” She put her hands on my chest.

  Yeah, no.

  Gently gripping her wrists, I backed her away and cleared the door so she couldn’t corner me again. The only woman who would ever have her hands on me again was Charlotte.

  “I brought you back here so you didn’t cause a scene, but don’t mistake that gesture for interest in you. It was purely to get you away from the photographers, where you had even the slightest chance of hurting my wife any more than you already have.”

  “Jameson—”

  “Don’t. Don’t even try it. I saw that ultrasound you shoved at me, enough to see the dates on it.”

  Her eyes widened, a flush coming over her skin.

  “Didn’t think that through, did you? If you’re going to pin a pregnancy on a man, at least make sure the dates match up. According to that ultrasound, you were already six weeks pregnant when we hooked up. So I’m betting you knew. I’m betting you orchestrated that entire week with me in hopes I’d fall for your bullshit.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and she shook her head. “No...that’s not what happened.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ. Now that I think back on every time you begged me to go bare? Yeah, you figured you could do this. So a tip for the next guy, at least get a half-decently altered pic with good dates.”

  “Jameson, please…”

  “Oh no, you just caused a PR shit storm in the first week of my marriage. You don’t get to ask me for shit. Ever.” I opened the door, and Oliver stepped through, his eyes locked on Trinity. “Oliver will see you out.”

  Without saying another word, I left the room and headed for my next appointment.

  For fuck’s sake, how many times would my past come back up to haunt me? Torture Charlotte?

  Damian waited for me outside our largest conference room, chatting with Anthony.

  “There he is,” Damian said.

  “Sorry, had some trash to take care of. Are they all inside?”

  “They are,” Damian answered, his eyes trailing back over my shoulder. “But it looks like someone is about to need a few minutes of your time. I’ll head in. You handle...that.”

  I turned to see Georgia storming my way.

  “Is there something you need to tell me?”

  “Sure, Georgia. I just got blamed for a pregnancy that’s not mine. As a matter of fact,” I reached into my suit pocket, “here is the ultrasound she gave me, and you’ll see if you check my resort dates from right before we left for the America tour, there’s zero chance that kid is mine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “And how often am I going to have to worry about this kind of thing happening?”

  I’d been patient. Held my fucking tongue. Acted like the King I was about to become, but I’d had it.

  “First off, please don’t forget who you work for. Spoiler alert: it’s me. I don’t answer to you, you answer to me. And second, you don’t have to worry anymore now than you did when I was the spare and not the heir. The only thing that’s changed between then and now is that I’m about to be King. Trust me, had I known this was going to be my life, I might not have been quite as...adventurous with my sexual choices. But that’s my business and not yours because as we’ve already covered, you. Work. For. Me. So handle it.”

  She was still stammering when I walked away.

  Man, I was becoming an expert on having the last word.

  Out of the frying pan and into the fire, I walked into the conference room that currently held the members of Parliament who had changed their party affiliation.

  They all stood, and I waved my hands, motioning for them to sit down. Then I stood at the end of the table, Damian seated on my left.

  “Look. I’m not going to wine and dine you or try to convince you to change your minds. I don’t have the slightest interest in swaying politics, nor is that my role as your future King. And please don’t doubt that I am your future King. This monarchy has stood for a thousand years, and it will continue to stand. I will move us into a modern era, and it’s not because you decided to take off your masks and finally come at me in the open. It’s not about the death threats sent to my wife, my sisters, my mother—his daughter,” I pointed at Damian. “I’m thankful you changed your party affiliation because at least I know where my enemies are.”

  I looked at them each in turn, memorizing their stunned, red faces.

  “So thank you for coming out into the open. Thank you for letting me know your true feelings. I look forward to proving you all wrong. Every. Single. One. Of. You.”

  The silence was almost as satisfying as hearing the door click when I got the fuck out of there. Last word: officially mine.

  Last words? Easy. First words? Impossible.

  I raised my hand to knock on the door but stopped when I realized it was my own bedroom.

  Don’t be a chicken.

  I walked into my bedroom and felt panic slice through me at the empty bed. It was ten p.m., and I hadn’t seen Charlotte since she walked out of the cafe this morning. Had she packed up and left again?

  My gaze swept the room, stopping at the sight of Charlotte curled up on the couch in the living area, a book in her lap. Relief washed over me, my legs wobbly as I walked over, hitting my knees in front of her.

  “That baby is not mine.”

  She didn’t even look up, simply turned the page in her book.

  “Charlie.”

  Another page turned, which told me she wasn’t even reading the thing.

  “Charlotte Wyndham, look at me.”

  Slowly, her eyes met mine. The green was vivid against the heartbreaking red rims, the evidence of far too many tears.

  “That baby isn’t mine,” I repeated.

  “But you did sleep with her, right?” she asked with a break in her voice.

  “Yes. I’ll never lie to you about any of that.”

  “When?” she acted like the question meant nothing, but her knuckles went white.

  “The week before we left for the America tour. While I was on vacation.” I’d gone looking for a fling, and I’d found one. Hoping that I could fuck my way into not vomiting at the sight of Xander and Charlotte together for the entire impending trip.

  “Not...since?”

  I took her hands in mine, the book dropping to her lap.

  “There has been no other woman since the moment I thought I had a chance with you. I told you that once, and it’s the truth.”

  “How...how do you know the baby isn’t yours?’

  “First, because I was always careful before you. Second, according to the dates on the ultrasound that I already turned over to Georgia, she was pregnant way before she ever met me.”

  Her shoulders drooped, like the tension had drained right out of her.

  “When she came at you with that sonogram...I just felt like everything was crumbling. Like our fairytale had just turned into a living nightmare.”

  “It’s not,” I promised, stroking the soft skin of her cheek. “I promise you that everything is fine.”

  “But is it? How many times is this going to happen? How many women am I going to have to watch touch your arm and know that they’ve had you inside of them?”

  My chest tightened, and in that moment, I wanted to take everything back. Every woman I’d ever slept with, every mistake I’d ever made.

  “I wish I’d known the future. I would have made so many different choices. But this is the man I am, and I can’t change the past. When you and Xander were...whatever it was you were, the jealousy ate at me every time you guys so much as danced together, and I knew you hadn’t had sex. I can’t imagine how you must feel, and I’m so sorry for ever putting you in a place where that could happen to you. I’m not Xander. I haven’t been perfect with my past, but I can promise you that I’ll be perfect for your future.”

  “Perfect?” her lips r
aised in a slight smile.

  “Okay, maybe not perfect for the world, but God, baby. I’ll be perfect for you.”

  “Jaime…”

  “No, let me finish. You asked me how many women there were, and I can’t answer that because I honestly don’t know. I never kept track. So that number isn’t something I can tell you. But what I can tell you? The number one. There’s only one woman I will ever touch for the rest of my life. One woman that I’ll make love to, have children with, spend every minute of my existence adoring. One, woman, Charlotte, and that’s you.”

  Her mouth met mine in a sweet kiss.

  “That’s all I needed to hear.”

  I picked her up, holding her against my chest, and walked her to our bed. Then I slid the tie of her robe free, worshipped every inch of her skin again and again until she’d come so many times against my fingers and tongue that she was limp and sated. Then I built her back up again until her desire burned hotter than ever, and slid inside her with one smooth thrust of my hips.

  “Mine,” I whispered against her neck.

  “Mine,” she answered, her hands gripping my ass.

  We moved together like music, like poetry, until her pleasure was mine and mine was hers. We found home in each other, and while I’d made love to her so many times before, this felt like the first time all over again.

  Afterward, when I held her against me, her cheek on my chest, her breathing deep and regular with sleep, peace swept through me. Sure, this had been a minor storm in the face of the bigger one brewing, but I had Charlotte.

  And that was everything.

  Charlotte

  The first rule I’m ever going to make as queen, if I have the power to do so at all, is allow the new queen to wear less-traditional attire at her own coronation.

  The dress I currently walked in was two-times heavier than my wedding dress, and I felt like I was drowning in it. Yards and yards of thick gold and white fabric with jeweled details.

  Jamie helped hold me upright, his arm in mine, as we made the slow steps throughout the town square, heading for its center. He looked absolutely heart stopping in his full military dress, his ribbons and medals from his time serving his country glittering under the noonday sun.

  Thousands of people watched from the barriers, and hundreds of guards stood between us and the people of Elleston. Some of the more distinguished and invited guests were on this side of the barrier—people like the royal family, of course, and my stepfather—Sir Dean of Corbin—who carried my crown on a velvet pillow older than Jaime and I combined. Xander held the honor of carrying Jaime’s crown, and their mother walked behind us, Sophie and Brie following behind her. My mother was somewhere behind them, and even further behind, we’d even allowed the families of those who’d competed for Jaime’s heart partial access to the coronation.

  The thought of those women reminded me of Trinity with a jolt of shock, and I nearly tripped. Though that mess had been cleaned up, and Jaime and I were stronger than ever…I couldn’t help but fear the next woman from Jaime’s past would come out of the shadows and threaten to turn my world upside down.

  But, as we neared the center of the town square, the Archbishop of Bonneville and his assisting bishops waiting for us, I knew none of that mattered. I’d lived Jaime’s past with him, even if on the sidelines, but now I owned his future. And he mine. Together we would be crowned King and Queen, but our lives as man and wife would be cemented no matter who or what tried to rob us of our happiness.

  Jaime had been right. We’d suffered years of distance, and now it was time for our happily ever after.

  First, we had to survive the long process of coronation and the following procession. Then the following weeks that were booked solid with events and appearances. And somewhere between all that and the next few months, we’d find a way to balance both being King and Queen, and a married couple in life-altering-love.

  “Are you ready for this?” Jaime whispered, squeezing my hand as he helped me up the stone steps to the raised portion of the square.

  “If you are, I am.” I smiled at him, returning his squeeze.

  “With you?” He asked, that smirk on his lips. “I can do anything.”

  We sank to our knees on the plush red pillows that had been positioned there for us, and I couldn’t help but tremble. The next hour would change our lives forever, but with Jaime by my side, it wasn’t all so terrifying.

  “We cloak you,” the archbishop said, his voice booming over the silent crowd. “In the fabric of truth and justice and honor.” He motioned to his assisting bishops, who placed another layer of fabric over Jaime’s shoulders, then mine. The combined heat of all the layers threatened to suffocate me, but the man kneeling next to me helped keep the breath flowing freely in my lungs.

  I’d envisioned this day for nearly all my life, and in the past, it had always been Xander next to me in that vision. My eyes dared to flicker over to where he stood stoically holding Jaime’s crown, a soft smile on his lips when he caught me looking up. He supported this, supported us without hesitation, and it made a day I used to dread turn into one of pure happiness. I’d never thought I’d be able to have Jaime in all the ways I wanted, and now that I did, I was experiencing a level of bliss I never knew possible.

  “Rise,” the archbishop commanded, and we somehow managed to stand without falling backward with the weight of the cloaks. “I present you with the ring of emerald and ruby, the one your father wore, and his father before him.” He slid the ring on Jaime’s expectant finger, and my heart expanded in my chest as I saw his adam’s apple bob up and down. “And, the scepter of Kingly responsibility and power.” He handed him the scepter I’d only seen a handful of times in his father’s hands. Jamie didn’t shake as he held the ornate staff, didn’t blink as he was given the symbols of what would rule his entire future.

  I envied his strength and siphoned it as I knew my time was coming.

  The archbishop moved over to me, placing an identical ring of emerald and ruby, recently re-sized after Jaime’s mother had worn it since she was coronated. “And now,” he said, returning to stand between each of us. “Kneel once again, so we may crown you.”

  Jaime held my hand as we kneeled again, and the archbishop ushered Xander and my stepfather over. Tears clogged my throat as I saw the glitter in my stepfather’s eye when he handed the archbishop my crown. He sat it on my head; I tried not to flinch at its weight. I supposed it was a natural thing, for all the symbols of being King and Queen to be heavy, to imply the weight of the responsibility Jaime and I were undertaking. But damn was I more than ready to get out of the physical symbolism and back to business as usual—one where I could rule in my elegant gowns and pencil skirts and blouses.

  The archbishop moved over to Jaime, taking the crown from Xander’s velvet pillow, and raising it high above Jaime’s head. It seemed to take an eternity to bring the crown down on top of his head, but the second he did, he yelled, “Long live the King and Queen!” And the crowd took part in the chant as the orchestra set up behind the raised stone structure of the square played Elleston’s song.

  I breathed for the first time all day, standing with Jaime to face the crowd as their new King and Queen. The coronation was over, but now the procession had started, and it would be hours before I could get Jaime alone in a room and simply be with him as we unwound from the trials of one of the most important days of our lives. I anxiously awaited that time, but as we waited, holding perfectly still, hands joined, as the procession started, I knew everything was going to be okay.

  A feeling of calm rushed over my body, slowing my heart rate as clarity clicked in my mind. Jaime and I were a match in every single way, and we would rule together, a true partnership that would hopefully usher in a modernized Elleston. What I once believed would be a job when I had thought Xander and I would be forced to marry, I know realized was a passion with Jaime. A life. Something we could cherish forever, and nurture and grow and learn from throughout eac
h day. Each task. Each royal undertaking.

  The Prime Minister led the procession, walking incredibly slow and confident as the other distinguished guests, officials, and bishops followed him out. The crowd cheered and clapped as they did. The royal family would be second to last, and then Jaime and I along with our security details. I took steadying breaths, happy to have found the sense of calm, and clung to it like a lifeline as the procession seemed to never end.

  “You look radiant,” Jaime whispered, keeping his eyes and face straight.

  I tried not to laugh. “I look like an ornately decorated mattress,” I whispered back.

  “Don’t mention a bed to me right now, Charlie,” he said. “Unless you want the world to see how desperately I want you. How I’m always hopelessly ready to bury myself in you.”

  A warm shiver danced up my spine as if the man himself was trailing his finger along it. “Jaime,” I said, sighing. “It’s already hot enough under all this fabric, must you make it worse?”

  I saw his smile from the corner of my eye, and it was all I could do to not turn my head and really look at him.

  Finally, Brie and Sophie and their mother took their turns to walk, and then Xander. We were all that was left, and I was more than ready to move. To do anything other than be the smiling statue I had to be.

  Jaime took the first two steps down, my hand in his as I gathered the robes of my dress in the other.

  “Your Majesty,” Ian called from behind me, and I turned to look at him.

  Crack!

  An explosion broke the air.

  The ground shook beneath me.

  Smoke and debris and rock flew around us.

  My hand was ripped from Jaime’s as I was hauled backward, someone’s arms around my waist.

  I fought against the hold. “Jaime!” I screamed…I know I screamed, but I could barely hear my own voice inside my head. The sharp ringing in my ears dulling out everything around me as I searched for Jaime.

  Chaos.

  People ducking, running, laying in pools of blood.

  Oh god. Where is he? Where is he?