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The King might be threatening the line of succession—Beatrice could see that clearly now—but it made no sense. He loved his son. That much she could also see. She had seen it in the photos she had looked at, and in the way he had stood there staring at his portrait.
He loved Julius.
How could he not?
And then it dawned on her.
The King was trying to soothe the fretful Queen, who had lost one child and was terrified of losing another.
Oh, Julius.
She was going to be nicer and kinder, Beatrice vowed. No more sex with men who didn’t want anything more than that from her.
Only, that wasn’t fair.
How she hated it that it had ended like this.
She hated it so much that she couldn’t let it.
She was like a ship on its final voyage. A ship that didn’t quite know how to bring itself into port.
And even as she made the vow it was tested. Because she’d caught a glimpse of those secret gates to the tunnel beyond and she couldn’t help but peek. One look at his secret tunnel, she decided, and wrenched open the heavy door.
It wasn’t a velvet tunnel after all.
It was awful bricks and a fluorescent light that flicked on automatically.
And an intercom.
Beatrice buzzed because it was there and because she couldn’t help herself.
But she got no response.
So she buzzed again, and again, and again.
He’s out, she reminded herself...Go home, Beatrice.
But she’d walked away from Alicia, and she could not have the only two relationships in the world she cared about end on such terrible terms.
Even if he told her what she could do with her apology at least she would have made it. Told him how much better he had made her world.
So she buzzed again.
And she would keep buzzing...
Or maybe she should write a note—just a quicksorryand fling it under the door. But the door was awfully heavy and there were no gaps she could see.
Would he even come down here?
Stop overthinking, Beatrice thought, and took out her journal.
But then she heard the crackle of the intercom and braced herself for a curious servant—or perhaps Jordan dealt with this sort of thing... Or did Tobias deal with all those women in ball gowns?
‘What?’ Julius’s voice was clipped and angry and she didn’t care.
‘It’s Beatrice.’
‘What do you want, Beatrice?’
