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She remembered asking him about loneliness that night so many months ago. Because she knew her way around it, having had little company but her own her whole life, no matter how many people were around. Much like him, she supposed, if for very different reasons.
But she had never seen anyone more lonely than Prince Zeus now.
It was not lost on her that her declaration of love had not exactly gone down well. Nina had been surprised by it herself. She’d never said those words to another person, not as long as she could remember. She already whispered them to her baby. But they had simply poured out of her mouth last night.
Because somewhere between the ballroom and the bedroom, she had come to understand that it wasn’t make-believe with Zeus. It wasn’t stories told, or publicity stunts. Not for her. Once they looked at each other, really looked at each other, in Haught Montagne that night, everything that came after had been inevitable.
It felt good to finally admit it.
She had loved him then. She loved him still. And the baby growing ever larger within her was simply one more manifestation of that love. Nina couldn’t wait to see who their child would become.
And these seven months of pregnancy had taught her something else, too. It wasn’t necessary to know every last detail about a person to love them. It was not even required that love make rational sense. Sometimes it was a look. A quickening. An instant understanding of life forever altered.
Her life was altered. There was no denying it.
She wouldn’t take that back, either.
Nina moved closer and took his hand, there before the water that the Theosians beckoned daily, even in these less godlike times. And when he looked down at her, somewhere between shock and astonishment, she squeezed his fingers harder in hers.
“I love you,” she said.
And Zeus seemed to shatter, even as she watched. He gritted his teeth so hard she saw the hard cords of his neck stand out. She felt his hands clench, though he did not grip her hard enough to hurt.
“Do you know what I plan to say to my father should he regain consciousness again?” he growled, his voice gone raw.
But Nina did not let go of his hand.
“I’ve been planning it since you came here. It is the crowning achievement of my lifetime of disappointing the man.” His hand flexed in hers. “And it is all because of you.”
He turned to face her, so Nina took his other hand. He stared down at where they were linked and made a low noise, like an animal in a trap.
But he didn’t pull away.
“I have all the pictures to show him,” Zeus gritted out. “Every scandalous paparazzi shot from the summer, to refresh his recollection. He was apoplectic when it happened. And I’ve been biding my time, waiting for his final moments to tell him that it is all much worse than he could imagine. Much worse than some pictures in the papers.”
She could see that he wanted her to say something, but she couldn’t find the words.
“I have been looking forward to this,” Zeus continued. “To telling him I’m marrying a commoner, a nobody. An orphan girl who was cast aside by her own country but bears the heir to the throne he loves so much. It will be a masterstroke.”
Nina wasn’t sure, then, if she felt relief or a hollow sort of despair. Relief, because she’d known that all of this had to be a game. She’d known all along. And little as she minded Isabeau’s taunts and gibes, name-calling and spitefulness, she found she minded much more that this was how Zeus truly saw her.
Even if he looked like it tormented him.
But beneath that, that sense of despair. Because she believed he was a better man. The man she’d seen in snippets, here and there. The glimpses she’d seen of him in what looked like the sort of meetings no one would believe the notorious Prince Zeus could sit through, much less command. The man who had slid shoes on her feet so gently and had stood just outside that alcove so that she might handle her former life on her own. The man who could have found her a few gowns for his pictures but had ordered her a queen’s wardrobe instead, and who took an obvious delight in dressing her. The man who not only told her she was beautiful but made her feel it.
The man who made love to her like it was a sacred ritual, burning them both clean and new.
She believed all of these things fully. And it felt like a kind of agony that he did not.
“If you wish to say all these things to your father, why are you here?” she asked quietly. “Down on the beach, where if he stirs, it might very well take you too long to race to his side so you can hurt him one more time.”
Nina could see the storms in his eyes. The glaze of grief. “You don’t understand.”
“I do,” she replied calmly, though she felt anything but inside. “You saw me choose not to take my revenge on Isabeau. It would have been easy enough to do. It doesn’t occur to her yet that I know all her secrets, but it will. I get to take pleasure in not sinking to her level.”
He pulled his hands from hers, but he didn’t stalk away as she half thought he might. He only stood there, letting the wind move over him while his green eyes were like thunder.
“It is hardly the same thing.”
