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She was a dreadful person.
She walked out onto the terrace and breathed in the fragrant air.
She knew the slippery slope she was on.
A holiday—a week with him in paradise.
And then he’d head off and marry, because he had to, and he’d have dark-eyed babies, and he’d love them, and Beatrice knew she would have to watch from afar.
She knew she couldn’t be kept at a distance all over again.
And so she decided to be happy.
Tonight.
She went into the shower and looked at her hair, which was straggly. She stripped off and stood under the lovely strong jets.
She was heartbroken, but she was living. She was in love with someone who didn’t do all that, but she would have her week with him and that would be that.
Yes.
No.
Yes!
The buzzer rang and she waited for the butler to leave before she padded out into the kitchen. It wasn’t food. It was four Birthday Girl Martinis. She smiled that he could be so thoughtful. There were chocolates too, and another present. A new coffee cup from the palace souvenir shop.
Wrapped in a towel, she sat on a very smart chair and found out that he was right. Alicia had always been impossible to find online, but it took two minutes for her to find Dante. Indeed, that grubby little boy her friend had adored was now the owner of an extremely luxurious hotel in Ortigia—a very beautiful part of Sicily. Dante had done very well for himself.
It took two of the very sweet martinis before she could further look up the hotel in Ortigia and find out what she could about the owner. And then the world stopped spinning as she saw her friend smiling back at her.
Alicia and Dante.
She had missed their wedding in Trebordi by a few days...
Tears spilled from her eyes. Because had she dared to walk up that hill then she’d have heard the gossip and found Alicia...
Julius met Jordan in the Great Hall.
‘I believe the King and Queen are ready to receive you, sir.’
‘Thank you.’ He nodded.
‘Jordan, can I speak with you afterwards?’
‘Of course, sir.’
It was a very long walk to the throne room, past the portraits. He paused at a couple, because amongst the dour faces were a few eyes that smiled, and it was nice to have a few rebels to relate to. And there was Bonny Prince Julius—smiling in his tights and curls...
He’d always felt burdened by his history, the traditions, the faces that stared down from the walls, some oddly familiar in their similarity to his own.
Imagine having no one.
Imagine growing up without a thread of identity.
And then finding out the one thread you had was poison...
As always, his thoughts went back to the woman who had made it through this world for the most part alone. Finding out what her mother had done, knowing that the pain he was causing her might compare to that, had stunned him.
