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Except there was no hope of that now, was there? Matias was out of her reach.
‘I see,’ Rafael said, in that maddeningly mild tone. ‘That is something we can discuss later then. Or would you prefer to argue with me now?’
Actually, she did want to argue with him now. But that would be a mistake with her control still so tenuous. There was too much tension in the air, too much of the past hanging over them, and the topic was too fraught.
Better to leave it until they’d both had a chance to calm down.
She decided not to speak, turning her head away, staring out at the falling snow instead.
The limo was starting to wind up one of the narrow roads that led into the mountains surrounding the capital, stark cliffs looming on either side. The world outside was all black and white and silence.
The temperature in the car had warmed and she felt less cold, though maybe she was imagining that, especially with the after-effects of shock still winding through her.
Certainly, thinking about what would happen between her and Rafael now was selfish, especially given how many other people had been affected by Rafael’s actions.
Her parents and their hopes and dreams for her as Queen. Matias and his plans for her as his wife. Santa Castelia itself and the need for a steady, stable king and queen at the helm.
All of that gone.
The thought made her ache.
‘My father,’ she said at last into the silence. ‘We will have to—’
‘As I said, I will deal with that.’ Rafael’s voice was almost negligent. ‘Your parents will be compensated.’
‘I’m not a horse, Rafael.’ She tried not to sound bitter. ‘You think money will make up for everything they wanted for me?’
‘Will it not?’ He raised a black brow. ‘Was it you they were thinking of when they promised you to Matias or was it themselves?’
A cold little pulse of yet more shock went through her. ‘What are you talking about? Of course they were thinking of me.’
‘Were they? You said you’re not a horse and yet you were certainly bred like a brood mare for the role they’d decided on for you.’
Her anger was sitting far too close to the surface and she could feel it start to simmer in response. Because he was wrong. Her parents had spent years trying to conceive and when it had finally happened they’d been so happy. They’d wanted great things for her, because they loved her. She was their miracle.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Anger edged the words no matter how hard she tried not to let it. ‘I was not “bred”. They wanted a baby and spent years trying for one and when I was finally conceived, they wanted me to have the best life possible.’
‘And the best life possible was you being married off to a man you felt nothing for and a role where you’d have to spend the next thirty years pretending to be something you’re not.’
Lia felt as though he’d dumped a bucket of ice water over her head.
He just sat there, staring back at her the way he used to do during those nights they’d spent together, where he’d say something challenging, daring her to refute it. She’d loved it when he did that. It was such a change from the boring etiquette and protocol lessons her mother drilled into her.
Their arguments had never been personal, only intellectual, and they’d made her feel alive somehow. Stimulating in a way the endless lessons in finance and history, deportment, and queenship had never been.
Because you were bored and he was the only exciting thing in your life.
He might have been then, but she wasn’t bored now and this wasn’t exciting. This was distressing.
‘You’re wrong,’ she said flatly. ‘Matias and I—’
‘Matias and you would have had a perfectly dull marriage,’ Rafael interrupted for the millionth time. ‘And you would have found being Queen—’
‘Perfectly fine,’ she snapped, deciding it was time that she interrupted him for a change. ‘This conversation is over.’
He lifted one massive shoulder. ‘All I’m saying is that your life is what you make it. No one was forcing you to marry my brother. You could have chosen a different path.’
He had an answer for everything, didn’t he?
