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Shame filled me from the toes up.
“Why did she run away just now? She passed me in the hall and looked very upset,” Leo said while stroking his chin.
I looked around the room. If I was an asshole, I’d tell them how I made her come with my tongue, how she screamed my name and shook the walls of the goddamn castle. But it felt wrong to brag about something that brought her so much pain. I felt like a royal dick for making her cry. If I had known, maybe I would have been more gentle. More loving.
Atticus peered at me. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. We were up in the tower.”
Leo’s ears perked up. “What were you doing in the tower?”
I licked my lips, the taste of her still there.
“Oh fuck. You had sex with her, didn’t you? Were you so bad she ran away crying?” Atticus asked. Though he sounded playful, there was a menacing way about him.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but we were just having a bit of fun. It was fine until she got off. Do you think she’s still…coping?” Fuck, I didn’t know how to navigate that. I just knew I never wanted to upset her ever again.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Leo mused before clearing his throat. He seemed lost in thought, but I dragged him back to the present.
“Why does it sound like you’re speaking from experience, Leo?” I asked.
He eyed Atticus and me. “She…she kissed me. She didn’t seem upset by that.”
Atticus cursed again. “You stay the fuck away from her.”
“Both of you stay the fuck away from her. She’s my bloody wife,” I yelled. I walked over to the tile wall and slid down it, feeling a little helpless and overwhelmed by everything I’d learned. “She’s my responsibility. My fucking best friend. And I failed her.”
Atticus didn’t hold back any punches. “Yeah. You did.”
“Fuck off,” I growled.
“So are you going to go check on her, sir? Or should I?” Leo asked while bouncing on the balls of his feet.
I felt stuck. I didn’t want to make it any worse. What if it was me that triggered her? What if she’d never be able to look at me without seeing my father?
My fucking father.
I wished he wasn’t dead so I could punish him for what he did to her. And I needed to have a conversation with my mother. She was overstepping her role and not keeping me informed. I was the bloody future king.
“Well, would you look at that, Leo?” Atticus said. “See that look on his face? I think a king was just born. I’ll go check on Christine.”
Chapter Twelve
CHRISTINE
“So, you’re engaged?” Atticus asked. I didn’t process his words at first because I was lost in thought, sitting in a heap on the library floor while trying to steady my racing heart. “Christine?” I snapped my head up and stared at him intently.
There was a look of concern on Atticus’s face, but he did not approach me. He seemed to understand how much I needed space. I held up my hand and swiped away a tear before wiggling my fingers. A gleam of light reflected on my emerald engagement ring. I decided to focus on his first question. “It’s beautiful, huh? Do you think it was the queen or the PR team that picked it out?”
His eyes were fixed on me. I didn’t want to talk about why I was crying on the floor, and he seemed to pick up on my desire to talk about anything but the pain in my expression. “I tried to persuade August to select something more meaningful, but he got angry and stormed out of my jewelry shop. I suppose whoever chose it has good taste, but it’s not from my jewelry store, so I’ll have to keep my enthusiasm reserved.”
“It’s not a DuPont ring?”
He shook his head. “No.”
I eyed the jewelry in speculation. “Hmmm. I suppose I like it a little less now. All the posh ladies of the court wear DuPont diamonds.”
His lip quirked up. “It pleases me that you want a DuPont ring on your hand. Perhaps you should ditch the king, and we can make that happen.”
