All sound stops as the doors sweep open in front of us, and as one, the three of us enter the ballroom.
“They’re staring,” Rowan murmurs so low only the three of us can hear. I hold in my snicker, because yes, they’re staring.Hundreds of people have their eyes glued to us. A wave of bows and curtsies leads our processional as we make our way across the vast room to the receiving space at the far wall. This is the part of being king I never enjoyed. Shaking hands and smiling with one person after another until all their faces blur into one.
Pictures snap, clicking sounds with bright flashes of light. The room is so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Not even a murmur. Just as we reach our post, the music begins again, and all the shock at seeing me for the first time in years—Rowan is everywhere all the time, so his presence isn’t the least bit odd to anyone—wears off. I take a breath, resisting the urge to adjust my bow tie.
“Sir.” The press secretary greets me with a curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to see you. Might I say, you look handsome.”
“Thank you. You look lovely as well.”
She blushes slightly at that and curtsies again. “We have a line of people to meet you, but it will only be heads of state. After that, we figured mingling is more appropriate since this isn’t a state dinner, it’s a ball. After that, you’ll make an opening address, and shortly after, dinner will be served.”
“Sounds good to me,” Rowan slips out.
“Agreed.”
“Very well. May I present our own prime minister first, Samil Batorini.”
“Him first?” Althea bemoans.
“Might as well get it over and done with,” I quip just as he stands before me with a smile on his face. He reaches out his hand to me, refusing to bow. Fucker. I take his hand and we both smile for a picture while we silently duel to break the other’s fist.
Leaning in, he gets right up in my face, speaking in a low tone so no one else can hear. “You’re a cocksucker,” he seethes. “Pulling this ball out of nowhere. Throwing Bellamy in my faceas your girlfriend at our last meeting when we both know that was a fucking lie.”
“Careful, Samil, you’re sounding awfully bitter. You forget where you are and who you’re speaking to.”
Beady eyes slither into slits. “You don’t deserve her. Someone that young and beautiful and bright. She should be with me. On my arm as my trophy. Not yours.”
“She’s so much more than a trophy, which is why you’ll never possess her.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
I blink at him, confused. He doesn’t know Bellamy. They’ve only interacted on two separate occasions while he was staying here in the palace, and both of those times were limited. His remarks are madness and make no sense other than being part of his insane ego and twisted mind.
“Do you honestly believe she loves you? A poor girl with no prospects, trapped here as a nanny?” He makes a tsking sound. “Yes, I know how she found herself here. Naturally she’d link herself onto the king to change her circumstance. She’s no fool.”
I glower at him, and he smirks, misreading me completely.
“You should be worried about that. It was the same with Nora. Why would they ever love you for anything more than your title when they could have had me for real?”
“Samil, I’m not worried about Bellamy’s love for me. No, this isn’t about her, is it?” I study him, realizing something for the first time after all these years. “This is about me. About your sick, distorted jealousy of me. Your need to hurt me any way you can for marrying Nora. Now you’re stuck in some perverse, ill-placed obsession and using Bellamy as your go-between.”
It’s the only explanation I can arrive at. Why he went after Nora so aggressively, even after she told him no countless times. Why he became prime minister when politics had never beenhis aspiration when we were growing up. Why he’s now convinced Bellamy should be his and not mine.
But the question is, where will this obsession with hurting me lead us?
He scoffs, but it’s clear I’ve hit my mark. His skin flushes hot and his eyes grow manic. He opens his mouth to say something when the press secretary interjects, gracefully ushering Samil along since he’s holding up the line. I do my best to shake that off, to not think further about it as I continue to meet and greet with dozens more people.
Then it’s mingling and more smiling and introductions that seem to go on forever.
The conversation with Samil doesn’t fully leave my mind until my children and Bellamy are announced. Then it’s as if everything inside me springs back to life. All eyes once again turn to the door, but I can’t stop myself from marching through the crowd to greet them. The ballroom doors sweep open, and the breath is immediately robbed from my chest.
Bellamy is a vision in gold. Swirling tendrils of glowing silk and chiffon swish around her from the floor up, tapering into a tightly fitted bodice that hugs her breasts, the sparkling heart diamond nestled between them in her strapless masterpiece. Her hair is pulled back from her face, knotted behind her head with the bottom half of her thick, dark mane flowing across her back in elegant waves. Her makeup matches her dress, shimmering gold-dusted eyes and a smile of red lips that sets my heart ablaze.
“Your Majesty,” Bellamy greets me demurely with a small curtsy she still hasn’t mastered, very aware of the audience focused solely on us.
“You’re a goddess,” I murmur, unable to catch myself before it slips out.
Phaedra giggles, and I turn my focus to my princesses and little prince. Phaedra is in a green gown that matches her eyes,and Sabrina is wearing white that I have no doubt will be covered in spills by the end of the night. Zayer is in a tuxedo that matches mine, and I instantly kneel, scooping him up into my arms.
