Page 33 of Royal Resistance

So it’s good that the bed is so big, so we can both have our own space.

What if she doesn’t want so much space?

She wants her own space. She has to.

This is an arranged marriage. A transactional relationship where we both get something that we want. That we need.

I don’t know why Selene needs to be queen. Maybe she doesn’t, but I need her to be my queen.

That’s the easy part. Being my wife will be something different entirely.

12

Selene

“We’re supposed to consummate,” I say in a quiet voice.

This is beyond awkward—Magnus takes up more than his half of the bed—wide shoulders and legs that stick out the end. He’s a large man, but it’s his personality that fills a room as much as his shoulders.

“We don’t,” he says quickly.

“Oh.”

“We don’t have to do anything. We’re sharing a room now, and it’s completely private, so no one knows what’s going on in here. Not that there’s anything going on in here.”

I am well aware that there is nothing going on in here.

I wasn’t sure what to expect for my wedding night, but it wasn’t this.

But I’m not sure what I want.

“This will have to be good enough for them,” he says roughly.

“Who’s them?”

A pause, and the bed shifts as he rolls over to face me. “I don’t really know,” he admits. “My brother?”

“Why did he give us a punch bowl as a present?”

“I have no idea.” Magnus laughs, which breaks some of the tension. Not all of it – I am lying in my marital bed with my husband, and we’re not even touching.

I could touch. I could reach out with a hand or even a finger. His arm is right there. His chest…

I swallow. I don’t think I’m ready to reach out. But it’s good that we’re talking.

“Your brother,” I begin, not sure how to broach the subject. Dante is hostile to Magnus without any of the deference you’d expect to give a monarch. Granted, he is his brother, but still. I can handle the smarmy charm he tries with me, but he should treat Magnus with respect.

“Wanted to be king. Really wanted it. Still does.”

“And you don’t. Not really.”

“My father gave me a choice,” he admits. “I could stay with the band, keep living my life, or take on my duties and be king. Dante had everything laid out in front of him, ready to grab it, and I picked wrong. According to him, anyway.”

“I don’t think you picked wrong.”

Magnus shifts again. “I don’t know. You’ve never seen me on stage.”

“I did, actually,” I confess. “I was in Brugge once when you were playing and caught one of your shows.”