Page 89 of Kneel Before Me

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Maximus

It was the beginning of the most important week of Maximus’s life.

At least, that’s what his father told him. To Maximus, he could hardly imagine the annual festival in the village being so impactful. The celebration was nothing new; he attended it every year. He’d met Lilibet at this very festival. It was standard for the royals to make the pilgrimage to the village to interact with their subjects. For Maximus, it had simply been another errand. Little did he know that day last year would change the trajectory of his entire life.

He’d made his way to the village in a carriage, determined to get through the visit as quickly as possible. He’d performed all the usual duties, talked to everyone he needed to talk to. It wasn’t until he was about to leave that he saw her. He hadn’t been able to look away, even when the footman was gesturing for him to return to the carriage. He’d turned toward her, walking slowly, stopping only once he’d reached her.

She’d placed a flower in his lapel. “Meet me behind the church. Tonight.”

Maximus had never snuck out of the castle before. He did so for her.

Behind the church was a graveyard. They’d met there every night, talking at first, and then kissing, and then making love in the dew-soaked grass. Maximus didn’t care that it was wildly against his father’s wishes. He didn’t care that they were teenagers and reckless and had no idea what the future would bring. All he knew was that he was madly in love with her, and she felt the same. When they weren’t together, they wrote each other letters. They left them on a particularly old grave, its wording worn off, its edges crumbling. Sometimes they were love letters. Sometimes they were naughty. Maximus couldn’t get enough of Lilibet. Her honeyed laugh, her gorgeous smile, the way she ran her fingers through his slicked-back hair, displacing it. It was all intoxicating, and it was all his—until it wasn’t.

He thought back to that day—how Lilibet had been in labor for hours. No part of the birth had been easy. Maximus could tell by the looks on the nurses’ faces that things were going badly and might end worse. He’d been alternating between pacing the hallway and kneeling by Lilibet’s bedside, holding her hand and dabbing her face with a washcloth as she labored. Most people in the village were no stranger to births, but for Maximus, this was the first one he had seen. The fact that it was his own daughter only made it more of an anomaly for him. And then things had taken a horrible turn.

Maximus knew something was wrong once the midwives started whispering. They cast glances in his direction, talking behind their hands.

“What is it?” he’d snapped. “Tell me.”

“She’s losing too much blood, Your Highness.”

“So fix it.”

“We’re trying.”

“Try harder.”

“You may have to choose.”

“Choose what?”

“Her or the baby.”

Such a choice was impossible to make. Maximus could not live without Lilibet. And he could not live without the baby.

But Lilibet’s choice had been clear. “You have to choose the baby, Maximus.”

“I can’t make that choice,” he whispered. “You have to live.”

“I will never forgive you if I live and our daughter dies.”

“You ask too much of me. You can’t expect me to—”

“Do as I say, Maximus,” Lilibet had cried.

Ice-cold fear pierced his chest. “Do not tell me what to do. I make my own decisions.”

“This is not your decision to make. Do not tell me what to do with my life.”

“It’s not just your life!” he’d cried. “It’s my life too. It’s our life. We’re supposed to do this together, Lilibet. Why can’t you fucking understand that? This isn’t about you.”

“Of course it’s about me. I’m the one having this baby. It’s my choice.”

Maximus had only shaken his head. It was inconceivable; he could not entertain it. She was not going to make him choose. It was an impossibility—a cruel test of strength that he already knew would break him. Maximus was not supposed to have to do this alone. He was supposed to do it with her.

“Save her,” Lilibet gasped. “Maximus. Please.”