Page 83 of The Royal in Room 3

I chuckled softly, surprised the sound came out when all I wanted to do was beg him to stay. “And when you become king, what would that make me?”

“In the eyes of the people, my prince consort,” he said. “But in my eyes, there’s no question that you will always be my Daddy.”

Sincerity laced his words, making me yearn for things that could never be. I glanced up to tell Phoenix I was leaving, only to find he’d left without me noticing. I turned back to Soren, took his chin in my hand, and kissed his nose and then his forehead.

“You will be great, my future little king,” I affirmed gently. “Forever was not meant to be ours. I’ve done my job with you, and now I release you from our contract.”

I grabbed the tool bag from the floor and headed for the door.

“Daddy.”

I kept walking.

“Are you really going to abandon your boy? I don’t want to be released from our contract.”

The words struck hard enough to stop me for half a second because he was right. Every promise I had made about being there when he needed me meant nothing if I walked away now. But I forced myself forward anyway, tightening my grip around the handle of the bag.

Someday, when Soren stood beside a prince consort worthy of him, he would understand why I had done this.

He would understand that letting him go had been the only loving choice I had left.

So why did the thought make me so bloody unhappy?

27

SOREN

A month after returning to Belvaria, I sat inside the High Court and waited for the man who had destroyed my life to learn the consequences of framing a member of the royal family and of committing treason. I suspected the punishment would be far more severe than my banishment. At least he would be spared from death, given Belvaria had abolished the death penalty over two decades ago.

The courtroom was fuller than I’d expected. Members of the press occupied the rear benches, while government officials, royal advisors, and members of the chancellor’s family sat closer to the front. Uniformed guards stood beside each entrance to ensure the proceedings went without mishap.

Former Chancellor Edmund Presley sat several rows ahead of me beside his attorneys. This was my first time being present at the hearing, as I’d deliberately stayed away, and he looked smaller than I remembered.

For most of my life, Chancellor Presley had seemed untouchable. He was a force to be reckoned with in the court. He had advised my father, spoken during council meetings as though every opinion he offered carried the weight of law, and stood beside the throne during some of the most important moments in Belvarian history.

Our two families would have been joined had my brother not died.

Now his shoulders were bowed, and the gray in his hair looked more noticeable beneath the harsh courtroom lights.

Beside me, Julian leaned closer. “You are still certain you want to speak, Your Highness?”

I glanced at him. Before the hearing, I had requested permission to address the court. The presiding judge had deliberated my request and approved it, allowing me to speak before the sentence was handed down.

At the time, I had been certain, but now that the moment was almost at hand, my palms felt damp inside my gloves.

“I thought I was,” I admitted.

“You are not obligated to do this.”

My gaze returned to the front of the courtroom. Perhaps silence would be easier.

Since becoming crown prince the first time, my words had been written for me. Advisers had told me what to say, where to pause, and how long to hold eye contact. Even my apology after I was accused of being a traitor, which had been published in every newspaper in Belvaria and neighboring countries, had been revised until it barely sounded like mine.

Then I remembered Jude.

He had never demanded perfection from me. When I’d ruined dinner, he’d taught me to cook over and over until I got it. When I’d failed at something simple, he’d reminded me that not knowing was not the same as being incapable. And when I’d doubted myself, he’d believed in me enough for both of us.

My chest tightened and my heart hurt. A month had passed since he’d ended our relationship. I’d spent thirty-one days without his voice, every single one torturous without waking up beside him and hearing him call me his little prince. The word prince didn’t roll off anyone else’s tongue quite the way it did his.