“I—I love you,” I blurt. Finley opens his arms, and I’m at ease enough to slip into them, my hands grasping at his back as I pull him flush against me. I bury my head in his chest, breathing in his scent that smells like rain on the horizon.
“You are my life now, pretty woman.”
And dang it.
I believe this man.
I am his.
He is mine.
Forever.
Itake a deep breath, then I knock on the door Astrid led me to—the Queen’s sitting room. The moment I knew I wanted Finley forever, I was burdened to come speak to his mother. Seeing that hurt etched all over his face, tainting our day no matter how hard he tried to hide it, nearly killed me. I may be overstepping a boundary, but honestly, I want justice for the person I love. The man I love.
And ultimately, even if it was Lucy who actually encountered the stalker, this has to do with me.
“Lorelei,” the queen acknowledges with a slight dip of her head and a plastic smile. “Astrid mentioned you would be stopping by tonight. How can I be of assistance?”
“May I come in and speak with you regarding Finley?”
“Whatever for? Has he done something wrong?” Her Korsan-accented tone is considerate but something in her glinting eyes challenges me to misstep.
I square my shoulders. “No, Your Highness. But you have.”
Her silver brows hardly lift. Her thin smile never fades away. “Come in, Lorelei. It seems we have much to discuss.”
I gulp as I cross over the threshold. No matter the bravado I’m summoning into existence right now, this woman is still the queen of a whole entire country. And she still reminds me of an ice queen.
The room is full of books. That’s the first thing I notice. It’s no library, but it must be her personal collection. An entire wall is dedicated to red oak wooden shelves. She has two golden-tufted chairs that sit on either side of a matching couch in the center of the room. A large window with a lovely nighttime view of the garden is on the backside of the room, and finally, on the wall opposite of the bookshelf, is a portrait of the entire family, including what I assume to be grandparents. The ceiling is high, the corners of the walls an intricate knotted wood design.
“Take a seat.” The queen instructs, gesturing to the couch. I obey. “Racinda, please bring tea.”
A woman I hadn’t noticed standing behind me scurries off.
The quiet is so loud, echoing as if I was in an empty ballroom, and I resist the urge to cover my ears with my palms to comfort myself.
“What kind of mother would sic a stalker on her son?” I blurt the question just to clear the obnoxiously beating silence.
The queen doesn’t even budge, but I do notice her shoulders tense. She looks away from me as she says, “The kind who islooking out for his well-being. You don’t know Finley like I do. The responsibility he is having to take on.”
“With all due respect, I do. I know Finley is warm-hearted and kind. I know he looks out for the people he cares about. I know he makes people smile wherever he goes. He’s easygoing and loves to laugh.” I pause for a moment, thinking about the man I’ve fallen for. The queen turns her gaze back to me. I clear my throat and continue. “But underneath all that, he’s anxious. He’s insecure in areas of his life, and he needs constant reassurance and affection. He understands the role he is acquiring, and he wants to be the best possible king he can be. He wants to follow in his father’s footsteps.”
The silence returns with a screaming vengeance, and I pray that the Lord will make this queen open her mouth to talk.
Or command a banshee to screech.
Something.
The door swings open, and the woman who left earlier is back with a tray of tea. The clanking of the white glass cups against the shiny golden tray brings a welcome reprieve.
“Thank you,” I say to the older woman as she hands me a cup of steaming tea. It smells like chamomile, and I silently commend the woman on her taste.
After she leaves, the queen sighs, taking a sip of her own tea. “It seems you know my son. Better than I thought you did. And the simple fact that you dared to approach me in this manner says a lot about your character, Lorelei.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve come off as blunt or rude. That was not my intention. But I did feel the need to defend the man I love and care deeply about. Finley is important to me, Your Highness.”
“Love? You—you love him?” she stutters over her words, her icy gray eyes rounded and jaw slightly left hanging open.
