Page 34 of His King Enslaved

Ardor swallowed. It was admittedly cold, but things had to be this way for both their sakes. “You are my consort. We are not a couple. Now that I’m pregnant, there is no reason for us to see each other.”

“You’re angry. Tell me what I’ve done wrong, and I’ll fix it.”

“You’ve put me in a difficult position, and you’re fully aware of that fact,” Ardor said evenly. “You need to leave.”

His consort frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You know what I need to hear from you. Tell me the truth, so I can decide if I will ever be able to trust you.”

His consort swallowed and had the decency to look ashamed. They might be brothers, but he truly was nothing like Xandar. “Ardor, I’m doing my best. I would if I could.”

“Your best is not good enough, and I see I have my answer. Please leave. Now that I understand I have no guarantees, I need to plan for our child’s future.”

“Ardor, you’re safe with me. I swear to you. You and our children will always be—”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Ardor said sharply. “I told you I’m through with empty Kysanian words. You keep saying you’ll do anything I ask. How many times do I have to ask you to leave? Show me you can respect that much, at least.”

“Ardor, I…” Something passed over his consort’s face. A spark of recognition, as though he suddenly realized what he was doing. With obvious effort, he said, “I understand.” He drew a quick breath, evidently collecting himself, and left.

The moment Leya closed the door, the tension broke, and Ardor sank back into his chair. He despised confrontations, and the warmth swimming in his belly made this one even harder.

“Eminence,” Leya said, moving to his side. She was unsettled. Between their conversation in the library and the exchange she’d just witnessed, she understood what had happened. “For what it’s worth, I am loyal to you and your children above all else.”

He lifted his eyes. “Are you sure?”

She straightened up, squaring her shoulders. “I am. My path is unchanged. I am here to serve and protect you.”

He was torn between gratitude for her steadfast loyalty and a bittersweet longing. His whole life, his only confidences were guards and servants. He wanted more than that. But he was a Flower. Flowers didn’t have friends. Not really.

“Eminence,” she said, her brow lined with worry. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need a friend,” he said. He hadn’t meant to. It wasn’t fair to put that burden on her. But it was the truth. He was stressed out and worried and exhausted, and… he needed a friend. But as he watched the battle play out across her face, he knew he was asking for too much. Leya considered him divine, and the pedestal she’d placed him on was high. She did not consider herself worthy.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Conceiving was the hard part. Surely now, things will get easier.” His flower would stop producing pheromones if it hadn’t already. Soon, his consort’s intense interest would fade. He’d probably be embarrassed by it.

Surely, the strange tightness in his heart would pass, then.

Surely.

ACCEPTANCE

SINDAR LASTED THREE days without his Flower.

Barely.

At the end of the second, he walked in a daze. By the third, he was near catatonic. Thoughts of Ardor consumed him. There was a gnawing in his chest, a burning need to run, walk, crawl to the gardens, or to slip away to the paternity apartment Ardor now occupied on the other side of the palace.

“I’m dying,” Sindar told Ambani miserably, as she valiantly attempted to brief him for an intercession with two groups of squabbling nobles.

“You’re not dying, Your Highness,” she said. “But I concede you are in quite a state.” Her brow furrowed. “I would expect the besottment to fade by now.”

“I’m not besotted,” he snapped, his grief sharpening into annoyance. “How many times do I have to tell you people? My heart’s been torn out. Everyone keeps downplaying what I feel. You don’t understand what it’s like. It hurts, damn it.”

His grief wasn’t only because of absence. It was increasingly clear Ardor wanted—deserved—a better man. As it was, Sindar was barely keeping his shit together. Patel was right all along. Sindar was no good at any of this. He wasn’t fit to rule at all. He was utterly incompetent.

And if Xandar came back…

Sindar’s stomach rolled. The thought of Xandar being anywhere near his Flower, let alone touching him, roiled his guts. The idea of Xandar claiming his child as his own, or worse, harming the child, brought bile to his throat. When he thought of it, his hands involuntarily clenched into fists. If he thought about it too long, his nails dug moons of blood into his palms.