by V Vee
“Kothrar, where is Kuthrar?” Chiamaka asked from the seat next to Algerone.
He looked down at his oldest daughter who was adorably dressed up in a silver outfit, that had flared sleeves, a white belt, a silver skirt, that was cut up the middle and flared out, under which Chiamaka wore a pair of white pants. On her feet were a pair of silver Mary Jane shoes. Algerone thought she was positively adorable.
“I think she went to the little girl’s room,” he said.
Chiamaka giggled and shook her head, her light brown curls swinging around her chubby, caramel face. “Nuh-uh! Mommy’s not a little girl,” she told him with a smile.
Algerone frowned and leaned back, giving his daughter a look of shock. “She’s not?”
“No, silly! She’s a Mommy, duh!” Chiamaka rolled her eyes.
Algerone nodded his head giving Chiamaka a solemn expression. “You’re right. I forgot. Then I guess she went to the Mommy room.”
Chiamaka shrugged. “Okay.” She reached forward towards the center of the table to grab the centerpiece. Algerone tugged her tiny fingers away from the flowers.
Where was Valerie? He needed assistance. The kids were getting restless and he really didn’t want to start passing out candy. Besides, she had the bag with all of the electronic devices and games.
As if he’d conjured her out of thin air by his sheer desperation, Valerie appeared next to his left shoulder. Algerone looked up at her with a smile, which quickly dropped when he saw the almost crazed look of fear and surprise in her eyes.
“Miora ruga? Are you alright?” he asked her.
“Yes,” Valerie nodded frantically.
Algerone quirked an eyebrow at her.
Valerie closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. Algerone could visibly see her getting herself under control. It didn’t bring him any measure of relief, if anything it only made him more anxious and worried. Valerie was not someone easily given to emotion, if anything she calmed him down more than he did, he was a man of high passions, a quick temper, possessive, aggressive, very alpha. So to see her struggle with her emotions, only served to make his own rise to the surface even quicker.
“Love?” Algerone said softly.
Valerie placed a hand on his shoulder, before leaning down to place a peck on his lips, then lifting Dahni from his lap. “I’m fine, my Prince.” With that, she walked off towards her siblings, who were telling everyone to be quiet, because their parents were arriving.
A large ball of anxiet settled in the pit of Algerone’s stomach. There were only a few times Valerie called him: “my Prince.” When she was extremely angry, when she had to give him bad news, when she was pointing out their differences, or when he had done something extremely imperialistic or snobbish, and she was annoyed. Either way, it was always her way of telling him she didn’t really want to speak to him for a while, but still loved him.
Had Antwaun been right? Was he losing his wife?
Before Algerone could renumerate on it more, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled the device out and glanced down to see who could possibly be caling him at this time of night. It was early morning in Malvidence, they were seven hours of the Eastern coast of the United States and it was already eight o’clock at night in New Hampshire. Seeing his father’s name, Algerone knew he couldn’t send the call to voicemail, so he rose and crept silently in the darkened room to the back wall, lowering his voice.
“Raxrru, Mexoria Źeylήia,” Algerone answered.
“Raxrru, miora dath,” King Callum responded. Algerone breathed a small sigh of relief at his father referring to him as his son rather than as the “Crown Prince” honorific that he usually did when he was calling Algerone on palace business. “Have I caught you at a bad time? Why are you whispering?”
“I am merely at a business metting and had to step out, may I be of assistance, Kothrar?” Algerone asked.
“Yes,” King Callum stated, steel entering his voice and ice poured down Algerone’s spine. “The throne demands your immediate return for an important dinner.”
Algerone swallowed thickly as he looked over at his children and then at Valerie who was smiling at the doorway where her parents were getting ready to appear.
“Now, Kothrar?” Algerone questioned.
“Have you questioned, the Crown, Algerone?” King Callum’s voice was unyielding and hard.
“No, of course not. I will make my excuses and head to the plane right away,” Algerone promised.
“Very good. The car will meet you.” And with that, his father hung up, and not a moment too soon, because the lights flipped on and Mr. and Mrs. Hall stepped in to a loud chorus of “Surprise!” from their children, grandchildren, friends, family, and a son-in-law, who came up, hugged them tightly, congratulated them and apologized, before taking his wife’s hand and leaving the room.
Chapter Twelve
V alerie tugged her arm free of Algerone’s grip. When he stopped and turned to look at her, her heart sank to her stomach as she saw the look of regret in his eyes. She shook her head even as she felt her own eyes burn with unshed tears.
“No.” She shook her head. “No, Algie. You promised me. You promised the kids you would be here for a while this time. You can’t be leaving so soon. The party’s just starting! It’s my parents’ anniversary. What am I supposed to say to them? And did you even say goodbye to the children? I can’t believe this!” She paced back and forth in front of him and tilted her head back in an attempt to stave off the tears.
“I’m sorry, but…” Algerone began, his deep, rumbling voice filled with remorse.
She held up her hand to silence him, unable to stomach hearing another apology from him. She knew what she’d told her siblings, what she’d said to Duan, what she was always saying to the children, but the fact of the matter was, every time her husband left her and their children behind, she felt as if he were ripping away strips of her soul. Pieces of her heart were being torn out with every abrupt departure, every excuse, every “I’m Sorry,” and with every goodbye kiss.
Valerie couldn’t do it anymore. Especially not now that she knew she was bringing a sixth child into what could only be described as a “marriage of convenience.” Algerone was married to her when it was convenient for him. He was a father when it was convenient for him. Whereas she and their children lived in a state of stasis waiting on his return. Well, no more.
“I can’t do this anymore, Prince Algerone Smythe of Malvidence,” she said scornfully.
Algerone’s eyebrows lowered for only a moment before his eyes widened and he stepped towards her. Valerie stepped back and wrapped her arms around her stomach, shaking her head.
“Valerie, miora ruga don’t do this to us. To me. To our children,” Algerone pleaded.
Rage surged through Valerie and she pointed at Algerone as she stepped close to him, her index finger jabbing him in his hard chest.
“You have no fucking right to bring up our children. Don’t you dare try to use them as a way to get me to stay with you, to keep putting up with you keeping us hidden, tucked away like your dirty little secrets. I have been the one to think about our children for the past thirteen years now. I have been the one to reassure them that their father still loves them even when he cancels visits, when they can’t tell their friends about you, when they can’t even show pictures of you. When they’re called bastards, mulattos, house niggers, porch monkeys!” Valerie’s eyes filled with tears as she thought about the pain and the bullying her children had endured over the years.
“I have held this family together for over a decade. Held onto faith, love, hope, and my trust and belief in you, every time you said you were making plans for us to join you in Malvidence. For you to take us all public. To tell your parents, your brothers, your kingdom that you’re married and you have a family here in America.” She stepped away from him and turned away, tears streaming down her face, devastation mixing together with rage and hopelessness creating an unappealing taste in her mouth
.
She felt so lost. So foolish. Her siblings hadn’t said anything to her for some years about her marriage to Algerone—all except Duan—and her parents didn’t express their concerns about it either. Now, however, she remembered their words of caution, their fear, and even their anger at the man who only called himself her husband and the father of their children when no one outside of their friends and her family was around. How could she have been so stupid? And for so long?
“Val,” Algerone’s voice sounded choked and she stiffened when she felt his harge hands grip her shoulders. “I love you more than anything else in this world. I love our family. Our children. I am working on telling everyone what we have. I was planning on telling them when I returned to the palace, actually.”
Valerie shrugged off his touch and sniffled. “I have heard those words before, Algerone.” She turned to glare up at him, refusing to allow him to see the heartbreak, to bear witness to the way her soul was dying inside of her. “You have said them so many times, to me and to the children, to my family, to our friends… swearing us all to secrecy, that I have your speech memorized. You’re going to ask me to please just understand that this very delicate, and to try and be understanding, but that your heart beats for me and our children. That you breathe for us, and without me, without them, there is no you, right?” she spat.
Algerone’s face flushed red and he tightened his jaw. Valerie shook her head in disgust.
“Yeah, it’s the same old song and dance. You know at this point, it would be better if you were cheating on me, because then I would know that at least you were leaving us—denying us—for someone else. Someone that you actually cared about. That it wasn’t intentional. That you fell into something and you just didn’t know how to get yourself out. But this?” She waved her hand up and down his body. “You’re denying your marriage, your role as a father, because you’re a coward. And I have no idea how you expect to be king, ruling over a country, making laws, and handing out punishments, dealing with dignitaries, presidents, other members of royalty, and dictators, when you can’t even tell your mommy and daddy that you have your own family,” she sneered.
Valerie had never felt such boiling anger and hurt in her life before. It wasn’t something she enjoyed. It definitely wasn’t an emotion she ever wanted to feel again, but she knew, just by the ease in her chest, that she was finally saying things she’d needed to say to her husband for a long time. She wasn’t sure where that would leave them when this was all over, but she would be able to sleep a little better knowing she’d finally spoken her piece.
“I am no coward, Valerie,” Algerone gritted out. “I will tell my parents, my brothers, and my kingdom just as soon as I return, you will see and then you and our children shall join me in the kingdom and we shall make up for lost time. You will see my love is true, and my words do not ring with empty promises.”
Valerie huffed out a wet laugh as more tears streamed down her cheeks. She jerked her head back when Algerone reached out to wipe them away.
“Just… go, Algerone,” she said tiredly. “I will say your goodbyes to the children, and make a proper apology to my parents. And I will have Eve contact you about what I want to do.” Eve Williams-Uddin, a lawyer, was married to Farhad Uddin, a billionaire jewelry and fashion designer who was a friend of Algerone’s. The two women had met during one of Algerone’s trips home, and bonded over being in interracial relationships, having biracial children, being black women who were successful in their own ways, but had married wealthy, well-known men. While Algerone was rarely in the States, Valerie and Eve had continued their friendship past their weekend introduction, and had grown considerably close over the last thirteen years.
“W-why would you have Eve call me? No. I will not accept a divorce, Valerie,” Algerone said firmly. “We made a promise to each other when we married.”
“We made a lot of promises when we got married, Algerone!” Valerie yelled. She calmed down. “I’m not filing for a divorce, just a break—a trial separation—it won’t even be any different than what we have now, except when you come to see the kids you won’t be sleeping with me.”
She turned to leave, and had to swallow back the sob that tried to force its way out of her throat when she felt Algerone’s firm grip on her arm.
“Don’t do this, miora ruga. Please. Pui loriv miora ruga, flackrae tnaxis yugs.”
“I will love you forever, Algerone. And I didn’t do this to us. You did,” she whispered before tugging her arm free and rushing back inside the hotel where her parents’ anniversary party was still going strong without her.
She refused to look back.
Chapter Thirteen
A lgerone sat aboard his private Malvidencian palace plane and stared out the window dejectedly. His eyes were surprisingly dry, seeing as how he was certain his heart was bleeding from the wound his wife had inflicted just hours before so horrificly that it should have been pouring from every orifice, pore, and opening in his body. To make matters worse, she’d called as he’d sat in the car on the way to the airport, and let the children say goodbye to him. Algerone had already felt like shit, but to see the looks on his kids’ faces, varying from anger to disappointment to resigned acceptance was enough to knock the breath from his lungs. It was Dahni’s tiny wave and her “Bye-bye man!” only to be gently corrected to say “Dada,” that was enough to make Algerone bend over, clench his teeth against the roar of anger that was building inside of him, and almost bring him to his knees.
The fact that Valerie refused to even speak to him was the nail in the coffin.
Algerone had grown up proud to be the eldest Smythe son. The Crown Prince of Malvidence. He had wanted for nothing. Every material thing he’d wanted, was delivered with speed. His parents were strict and demanding, but loving. He’d known this, always had. Their expectations for him and his brothers were exacting and almost impossible to achieve, but they were supportive in that they provided instructions and assistance to their sons in fulfilling their wishes. Being called a “Bad Boy Prince” and all of his many acts of rebellion: partying on the palace grounds, sleeping around with celebutantes, sleeping with girls who related to political figureheads, public intoxication… had not been because his parents showed him no affection, but because his birth, the title and expectations he was born into, had been suffocating.
Meeting Valerie had changed all of that for him. He’d grown up, in what to him seemed like the blink of an eye. She was so focused, driven, and mature. While she was creative and many times during their first summer—their first year—together, he would find her simply staring off into space, with an almost dazed or dreamy expression on her face, whenever she came to, he was amazed to sit, or stand, or lay beside her, as she grabbed paper, her sketchpad, or her camera, and magic would appear. Her fingers, her mind, her heart, her soul, and her spirit worked together to create masterpieces. Art that moved the observer, that touched something deep within them. That cleansed the soul’s windows to give them eyes to better see themselves and the world around them. That affected their hearts, made them beat differently.
She’d made him want to be a better man. A man worthy of her. He’d realized that his title was not a yoke upon his neck, but an opportunity to do better for those who were oppressed, struggling, for those who needed someone to care about them. The way Algerone cared about—fiercely loved—Valerie.
To know that he’d come so far, and yet fallen so short, was nothing short of soul-wrenching. To hear his wife, the woman he would die for, say that she wanted a separation from him, had almost caused Algerone to call his father and confess all. And yet, his respect for his father, for his king, had forced him to see reason. His revelation of all that he’d kept hidden was something to be done in person.
No doubt his parents would be displeased.
Pissed. They would be pissed.
And his brothers would likely want to take him out onto the back fields and play “Vreik Plink”—loosely transl
ated as “Kick Balls”—a game they’d invented as young boys, that had quickly spread throughout the kingdom, and was used to knock some sense in a young boy, or man, who had severely messed up. Standing in the middle of a circle while his brothers stood five feet away and attempted to kick him in the nuts, was definitely not something he was looking forward to.
But, he could see the pain etched in Valerie’s eyes, it echoed within him, knowing he was the cause. And though he hadn’t wanted to leave, he had been summoned, and perhaps some distance while he made good on his thirteen… fourteen-years-too-late promise, would be best.
“Mexoria Źeylήia, we will be landing in about five minutes,” Kathryn, the flight attendant said to him.
Algerone nodded to her, muttering a soft “thank you.” He pulled out his wallet from his inner pocket and flipped it open to stare at the picture of his family: Valerie, AJ, Beaumont, Chikere, Chiamaka, and Dahni. For them, he would finally reveal his secret. No matter the consequences or what awaited him upon his return.
Province of Ardola
City of Gröntälje, Capital City
Kingdom of Malvidence
As the large, gleaming white structure of the Malvidencian palace came into sight, Algerone felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. When the plane had landed in Stortrup, in the province of Mistelbirge, he’d been expecting his parents, or at the very least, one of his brothers to be waiting with the large, white town car, sent to collect him from the palace. However, the only people there were the driver for the official palace vehicle, Tohmburgh, and the head of Algerone’s personal security in Malvidence: Danorian.
While it had been of great relief to Algerone to see Danorian, who was his most trusted guard, and someone he considered a friend, Algerone could admit to a bit of disappointment that no one else had been there to receive him. Remembering his father’s call, which had demanded his return to the palace in no uncertain terms, Algerone suspected the rest of the royal family were tucked away in the palace handling whatever problem or issue had arisen.
