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On numb legs he forced himself from the room and found his way back to his quarters. He slammed the door shut behind him and was halfway across the living room when he realised that Freya was standing beside the fireplace and Marit sat at the end of the sofa, both staring at him with accusation in their eyes.
He sighed and bit out a curse. ‘What do you want?’ he demanded.
‘We want—’
‘To know if you are okay,’ Marit said, her worried words cutting off Freya’s angry outburst. He was sure that Freya had plenty to say, and not just because he’d ruined her engagement party.
‘Oh, God,’ he said, hands bracketing his temples, just realising what a monumental mess he’d made of things. ‘How bad is it?’ he asked, perching on the arm of a sixteenth century chaise longue.
‘Tuva told everyone it was food poisoning, so there’s that,’ Freya revealed.
‘Food poisoning?’ He barked out a laugh—the last thing he thought he’d be doing that evening.
‘There may have been a little glee on her part in sharing such a...frank explanation for your disappearance,’ Freya replied, her own delight very close to the surface. ‘And I suppose it’s less embarrassing than being run out on by the King of Svardia.’
Guilt dug into his stomach and he groaned, bracketing his temples with his fingers. He felt his sister’s hand on his shoulder.
‘Tuva will be fine,’ Freya said, trying to reassure him. ‘When we left, she seemed to be havingquitethe conversation with the Austrian Ambassador.’
Nevertheless, Aleksander promised himself he’d find a way to make it up to her.
‘Yes, but never mind all that,’ Marit said. ‘Are you okay?’
It was on the tip of his tongue to dismiss his sisters’ concern, but Henna’s words came back to haunt him.
‘You know better now.’
‘Use the support you have around you now...’
Henna was right, he realised with a shocking twist of the knife deep in his heart.
He shook his head slowly. ‘No, I don’t think I am,’ he replied to Marit’s question. And finally, after twelve years, he slowly told them the story of what had happened to him, to Kristine, about the pregnancy and how it had affected the years that followed. How he had shut everyone out because it was easier to close off all emotion than to open up to even the smallest amount of hurt. How he’d felt it was the only way for him to rule. How it had led to this—his search for someone to marry who didn’t engage him emotionally—and how he’d arranged for Henna to be offered a position elsewhere.
‘She is my friend, Sander.’ Her words were an accusation but her use of his childhood nickname warmed a part of him he’d thought frozen solid a long time ago. ‘You should not have done that.’
Everything in him wanted to refute her accusation. He rubbed his chest. He’d been so focused on not letting anyone close enough to inflict the kind of hurt that he had experienced, the hurt he had inflicted on Kristine, that he hadn’t realised how Henna had already slipped into his palace and his heart and become irrevocably lodged there. It was she who had made him feel safe, she who had enticed his trust, she who had been more than his equal, who inspired him to be and do better. And he had betrayed her in the most painful and deepest way.
He cursed.
‘I think he’s getting it.’
‘Shame it’s a little late,’ groused Freya.
‘Oh, give him a moment,’ Marit scolded. ‘He’s learning.’
Ignoring their chatter, Aleksander thought through his options. Henna had been right, of course, about everything—but, most importantly, about finally facing his feelings about the past.
‘I need...’ He looked up to find his sisters waiting expectantly.
‘Whatever it is, we’re here and we’ll help,’ Freya said, reaching for him and pulling him into a hug.
‘Oh, you guys!’ Marit cried, before trying to stretch her arms around them both, and they descended into teary-eyed giggles. Well, the girls did. Aleksander would never admit to such a thing.
Two days later, Aleksander watched from the back of his car as the man said goodbye to his children, got in his car and left for work. He waited another five minutes to make sure the man didn’t return and if Aleksander needed that time to steel himself, then that was what he needed. He was done denying the things he felt and although he knew that this might be one of the hardest things he’d ever do, he knew it was one of the most important. Not just in his hope to get Henna back, but for himself too.
He exited the car and approached the modest two-storey home. His close protection officers were present but discreet, knowing how important it was that this remained away from the public eye. Not for him but for the woman in the house and her family. His footsteps sounded loud on the paving stones that led up to the front door in the quiet of the early morning and, before he could think again, he knocked on the door.
Kristine opened it and for a moment there was shock in her gaze and then an understanding so acute and so empathetic he nearly buckled under the weight of it and when she smiled he felt tears stinging the backs of his eyes.
