The moment Charlotte’s footsteps fade down the hall, I hurry to my office and log on to the palace’s secure database, entering a search for Charlotte’s records and history. My fingers tap impatiently on the desk as the results load, but when they appear, I’m met with disappointment. There’s nothing about her past prior to the age of ten when she suddenly started living with the head of the royal guard and he enrolled her in school. It’s like she never existed before then.
“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, scrolling through the scant information available. “What are you hiding, Charlotte?”
31
SEBASTIAN
As the evening turns into night, I sit at the edge of my seat, anxious for any news from Rowan or Javier. But each call, each update only serves to increase my despair. They haven’t found her. My chest tightens with every passing hour, the shame weighing heavily on my shoulders.
“Papa, where is Mommy?” Phaedra asks as I braid her hair when I know she prefers Bellamy to do it because, plainly, as Bellamy would say, I suck at it.
My chest pinches like it’s being squeezed in a vise, and I glance across the room to where Althea is standing by the door, watching, her eyes bloodshot from tears she cried earlier when I told her what was happening.
“Mommy is…” I don’t want to lie to my children, and tomorrow when they wake up, if she’s still not here… I swallow and stare at my daughter’s flaxen hair. The same color her mother’s was. My children cannot lose another mother. The thought is crippling.
“Yes?” she prompts when I can’t think of what to say.
“Resting, darling girl. She’s resting.”
Phaedra turns her head over her shoulder and meets my eyes. “Is she sad again about Grandpapa?”
Fuck.
“She’s always missing him.”
“You look sad too.”
I am. I’m so sad I can hardly take a breath or speak or look you in your beautiful eyes.
“Always so observant, Queen.”
“That’s what Mommy calls me.”
I force a smile and tug on her hair. “Let’s finish this up and get you to bed.”
I finish braiding her hair, though it can hardly be counted as a braid, and I tuck her in, kissing her cheeks, nose, and forehead. “Love you, Papa.”
“Love you so much, my darling. So much.” I kiss her again, holding her a little tighter, and then I cross the room, hugging and kissing Sabrina equally as fiercely.
“Don’t be sad, Papa. Mommy will feel better after she rests. She told me the twins make her extra tired.”
“They do, princess.” I kiss her again and leave their room, Althea walking slowly behind me. Zayer is already down since he falls asleep early and naturally wakes early. “Go try for some rest, Aunt.”
“Rest is not something I’ll do until Bellamy is home.”
“Then you can keep me company in my study so I don’t break priceless heirlooms.” Then I curse. “The way Bellamy did when I first met her.” I choke and scrub my hands up and down my face, exhaustion and heartbreak consuming me. “I fucked up.”
“Yes,” she tells me, never one to pull punches.
“This is my fault.”
Silence this time as no words are needed.
“I miss her, Althea. I’m nothing without her. I need her likeair. Like water. She’s my life and now I’m dying. I need my wife home.”
“We all miss her, and we all need her home.”
We descend a flight of stairs and head for my office. “It’s my fault,” I say again for no other reason than needing to be chastised.
