“Tessa is not your mum, Arthur.”
“I’m aware of that. This isn’tGame of Thrones, Father, there are no incestuous relationships among Avonian royals.”
“Don’t try to be cute.”
“I nevertryto be cute. It just happens naturally.”
He shakes his head, then sighs heavily. “I almost wonder if there’s no point.”
I drop down onto a weight bench in front of him and say, “I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge. But if you’re about to tell me it wasn’t my fault that Mother killed herself, you can save your breath. I already know that.”
“Good. Because it would be ridiculous to think a five-year-old child could cause an adult to do that. You were a bit of a brat, but you weren’tthatbad.”
“That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“You’re welcome.” My father almost smiles, turning this into the closest thing to a Hallmark moment we’ve ever had.
He stares at me for a second before he speaks. When he does, he turns his gaze to the floor instead of meeting my eyes. “Your mother was very young when I met her. Nineteen. She had the right upbringing, the right family, and she was truly lovely. As you know, my parents selected her. Getting married wasn’t my idea. I was twenty-eight and wanted to play the field for a few more decades before getting on with the business of producing heirs.”
“You make it all sound so romantic.”
“It wasn’t.” He glances back at me. “But then the strangest thing happened. I fell in love with her. Madly, stupidly in love. But what I didn’t realize was that she would never love me back. She’d already given her heart to a classmate of hers—a young man who was training to become a butcher, of all things. Her parents forbid their relationship, handed her over to me, and I thought the matter was settled.”
“Oh Christ, you’re not about to tell me I’m not really your son, are you?”
Shaking his head quickly, my father says, “No. Obviously not. What I’m trying to tell you is that your mother was miserable here long before we had children. I thought I could win her over, I mean, what’s not to want? A Crown Prince, a beautiful palace, her every desire fulfilled with a snap of her fingers. I believed she’d grow to love me, but she never did.
“After you were born, I grew resentful of her because I realized I’d never be the love of her life. I’d always be a distant second tohim. I started to hate her for it. Grew cold. Took comfort elsewhere. I knew then I never should have married her, but it was too late. Divorce just isn’t something this family did. No royals did at that time without it turning into a spectacular scandal. I thought we’d have our second child—”
“The spare—”
“I’ve always hated that saying.”
“Me, too.”
“Then why use...never mind. Anyway, I thought we could just live basically separate lives and ride it out for the next fifty years or so. But clearly, she couldn’t live with that.”
“Clearly.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying she wasn’t ill, because she most certainly was. But there was just so much more to it. After she died, I found some letters—cliché, I know. Turns out they’d been writing since we got married. I forced myself to read them although it nearly killed me. In one of the letters, he wrote that he, too, wished that you were his son and the three of you could be a family, so that provided enough insight into her state of mind for me. Eventually, he wrote to tell her he found someone else and was getting married. It was postmarked a month before she died.”
My entire body goes numb as I let his words sink in.
“So it wasn’t so much postpartum, and it certainly wasn’t because you shouted at her that day. It was the thought of a lifetime with me instead of him.” His eyes have a glassy look, and for once it isn’t because he’s three sheets to the wind.
I find myself doing the most surprising thing. I reach out and put my hand on his knee. “I’m so sorry, Father. That must have been awful for you.”
He puts his hand on mine. “It was. I wasn’t left only grief-stricken, I was guilt-ridden and angry. It was like the most spectacular way to be rejected, to have my wife choose death over having to be with me.” Shaking his head as though to clear the fog of this horrible memory, he says, “Anyway, all that to say you and Tessa will be fine.Youare the love of her life. Anyone who’s around the two of you for more than a minute can see that. It’s truly sickening.”
I chuckle a little, and when he looks at me, he smiles. “You’ve turned into exactly the type of man I wish I had become, Arthur.”
My head snaps back a little in shock, and I stammer over my answer. “Thank you.”
“Thankyou.”
“For what?”
“For becoming a good leader in spite of your old man. You saved this family, Arthur. You and your strange, potty-mouthed wife, and I owe you both.”
