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Leandro’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you making good use of the new suite of operating theatres?’

The question brought an uncomfortable flush to the man’s thin cheeks. ‘Patient confidentiality…’ His voice faded in the face of Leandro’s stony stare.

‘Right, well, when we took the Princess’s recent medical history—’ the medic began, with his eyes fixed on the pencil he was weaving between his fingers. ‘It is standard, you understand, to ask about a female’s menstrual cycle, and the Princess told us it is several months since she had a period and that this was not unusual for her. A pregnancy test is routine,’ he added quickly. ‘And that was negative, but some hormone levels were rather low, which…’

‘Which?’ Leandro, losing patience, prompted.

‘Which could indicate some fertility issues. We would need to do more tests, of course, but with what we know and without further investigation we cannot be sure, but we think it would be difficult for the Princess to conceive.’

The silence stretched until Leandro snapped upright and took a breath. He nodded at the doctor and left the room, closing the door behind him.

It took a lifetime of repressing his emotions to get out of the building and into the small paved courtyard he found himself standing in. It was empty except for a child in a swing being pushed by a nurse.

He was stunned to recognise the emotion that welled up in him, pushing past all his guards, as grief—he was mourning something that could never be. It felt like a pitch-black tide inside his head.

The questions jostled like a cloud of wasps, where there should have been no questions. Just answers—one answer. He was the King—it was his duty to provide heirs. Make a clean break now—it was the kindest thing to do.

Except, of course, it wouldn’t be kind if he rejected Elsie after all the damned court knew. She, her family, would be publicly humiliated. Elsie would be humiliated. Imagining it filled him with an inarticulate rage. His eyes burned as he squeezed them tight shut and dropped his head in his hands.

* * *

Elsie looked up when the door opened, feeling a rush of relief when she saw Leandro. She suddenly felt safe, which was crazy because she was not in danger.

‘Carry on—pretend I’m not here,’ Leandro said to the young doctor, who performed an awkward bow.

Elsie almost laughed as the fresh-faced medic adjusted the wire-framed glasses that she half-suspected were just a prop to give him an air of authority.

She struggled to take in what he was saying but her thoughts wandered, like her glance, in the direction of Leandro. Not even his worst enemy could suggest that Leandro needed a prop—authority was stamped on his features—but then she was not exactly someone without skin in the game, she conceded. She looked away but not before it hit her… She could feel the colour seep out of her face as the truth she had been studiously avoiding surged through her.

She was in love.

She felt tears of despair sting her eyes. The pain the discovery brought felt like a plaster being whipped off an open wound as she had to confront the unvarnished truth she’d been dodging.

In her state of shock, the doctor’s words sounded as if they were coming from a long way off…like some sort of weird echo.

Love wasn’t meant to be like this. It made her twin happy; it made her parents content. She was neither. She felt…more as though she’d lost something than found it, maybe because she knew that anything she felt was unrequited. She couldn’t grieve for something she’d never had, but she felt heartsick.

‘As I was saying, fatigue. Are you all right, Princess?’

The doctor’s face seemed to loom in and Elsie pulled back, blinking to clear her vision. ‘Fine, just a little—’

‘Ah, well, extreme fatigue is often experienced by many patients after an event like you have suffered. It will pass,’ he soothed. ‘And obviously anxiety is a natural response—any lingering skin issues?’

She shook her head. ‘No.’

‘And, of course, any return of respiratory problems, do not hesitate, any shortness of breath or wheezing.’

‘Actually,’ Leandro interrupted, ‘I have arranged with your boss’s secretary for daily home checkups for the rest of the week.’

‘Oh, no, that really isn’t—’

‘It really is,’ Leandro contradicted calmly.

Elsie despised herself for ducking a battle of wills—she had been doing a lot of ducking of late—but actually she was feeling extremely tired, not that she had any intention of admitting this to Leandro.

So many secrets she was keeping from him—she felt weighed down.

‘Is there anything that is bothering you?’