‘Yes. From the age of ten I knew that that one day I would be King.’
‘Did you ever…wish for it to be different?’
He turned his head, looking down at her. ‘Different? What do you mean?’
‘Did you ever wish that you weren’t heir to the throne, I mean?’
He looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t remember,’ he said at last. ‘I don’t remember ever having the choice—not that I would have chosen any differently if I had.’ Something flickered in his eyes then that she couldn’t read. ‘My mother died to save me. She sacrificed herself and I have to make that sacrifice mean something. The same for my father too. On his death bed he made me swear that I would reclaim the crown and be a good king for Kasimir.’
She’d told him what a terrible burden she thought that was before, and she still believed it. That the purpose of his entire life was to make his parents’ deaths mean something seemed a terrible burden to have to carry.
‘You can make their deaths mean something and not drive yourself into an early grave,’ she said. ‘And you can allow yourself other interests that have nothing to do with being a king.’
His gaze flicked back to hers. ‘Speak plainly, lioness. What is it you’re trying to say?’
She paused for a moment, debating the wisdom of discussing this with him again. But she had to try and make him understand—for both their sakes.
‘You’re working too hard, Tiberius,’ she said at last. ‘You’re not allowing yourself any time off or even time out. If you burn yourself out you’ll no longer be able to do much of anything.’
‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, hmm?’
Guinevere held his darkened silver gaze. ‘You’re not going to disappoint them, Tiberius. You do know that, don’t you?’
He frowned. ‘Disappoint who?’
‘Your parents. They put a lot of expectations on you, didn’t they?’
‘No more than any other parent. And no more than was necessary.’ He eased her head off his shoulder gently and sat up. ‘Being King is a high-pressure role—so, yes, of course the expectations will end up being heavy.’
That edge was back in his voice again, and she could have kicked herself for making things awkward. That wasn’t what tonight was supposed to be about.
She shouldn’t have asked difficult questions, shouldn’t she?
‘I understand,’ she said quickly. ‘And I’m not attacking them or criticising them. I just want you to know that you don’t have to be strong all the time…that you don’t have to push yourself constantly.’
‘You’re very invested in my wellbeing.’
‘Of course I am. I’m your wife and you matter to me.’ The words came out sounding a lot more emphatic than they should have. A lot more.
He stared at her, studying her face as if it was map he was trying to read. ‘Guinevere,’ he said at last. ‘Our marriage is not like other people’s, remember?’
She frowned, not understanding. ‘What? What do you mean?’
‘I mean,’ he went on gently, ‘that we did not marry for love.’
‘I know that,’ she said, unsure why the declaration should hurt. ‘What has that got to do with you mattering to me?’
‘I don’t want you to expect things from me that you will never get. For example, you also matter to me—but not more than Kasimir. The country always comes first.’
It was the answer she’d expected, and yet the moment he said it the hurt inside her grew a little more, cut a little deeper.
‘I know that,’ she said reflexively. ‘I’m not asking you to put me ahead of the country.’
‘No, I can see you’re not. I just need you to know that should you want more from me, you will never get it—understand?’
She wanted to ask him what he meant by ‘more’, but she had a horrible feeling she knew already. Love. That was what he meant, wasn’t it? Love would never be a part of their marriage, because he was already in love with Kasimir.
You can’t ask him to put you ahead of the country.
