Chapter 15 – Bellamy
BELLAMY
It’s been two days. Two freaking days and I haven’t been able to leave the goddamn hotel.
Two days of asshole reporters camped out just beyond the doors.
I want to go for a walk. I want to explore the city.
I want people to get over the fact that I’m pregnant especially when there are actual, real-world problems going on out there.
Sebastian has been in meetings and he’s offered for me to come with him. Not that I can go into the actual meetings, just to the building where they’re being held. Yawn. No thanks. The idea of sitting in yet another building twiddling my thumbs is about as appealing as rubbing sandpaper on my face.
I’ve gone to the spa—that was nice. I’ve gone swimming in the hotel pool—also nice. I’ve shopped in the stores here—damn they’re expensive as fuck. I’ve read two books and watched some streaming show that didn’t interest me all that much.
But I can’t drink, and I’ve already eaten my weight in Swiss chocolate, so I’m officially out of things to do.
“I want to go for a walk,” I whine, feeling petulant and not caring all that much. Sebastian just walked in the door, his brow furrowed, his jaw locked tight.
“A walk?” he parrots as if he’s not sure what to do with that. “We go home tomorrow. You can do all the walking you want then.”
“What is the press going to do?”
“You mean other than shout questions at you and surround you until you can’t move?”
I groan, flopping back on the bed. “This sucks. Officially.”
He loosens his tie and tosses it on the edge of the bed. “Get up.”
“What?” I don’t bother moving.
“Get. Up.” He grabs my wrist and yanks me up. “This is fucking ridiculous, and I’m officially done with it. My wife wants to go for a walk. She doesn’t want to be stuck in our hotel and I don’t blame her.”
“Why are you speaking of me in the third person?”
“I’m royal. It’s what we do. They call it the royal we for a reason. Now let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Outside to make a statement.”
My eyes shoot open wide. “I can’t go out there looking like this and I thought we decided we weren’t going to do that.”
“I’m over it. You’re clearly over it. Let’s make a statement already and move on.”
I’m finding it very difficult to argue with that logic. “Fine. Give me five minutes so I don’t look like something out of a horror film.”
“Five minutes. I have to make a phone call if we’re doing this.”
I hop off the bed and enter the bathroom, wincing when I get a look at my reflection.
“Yeesh.” I look like that girl from that movie whose head spun around as she vomited green shit everywhere.
Which for some reason makes me start to crack up.
I think I have cabin fever, which just feels spoiled given where I am and the fact that Sebastian and the children didn’t leave the palace for three years before I met them.
I quickly brush out the snarls from my hair and apply some makeup including bronzer because I’m as white as a sheet. After I go into the closet and pick out a sweater and cute jeans because that’s who I am, and I refuse to dress up for them and play their games.
There. Evidently, I’m taking this by storm when originally ignoring it was my idea. Sebastian wanted to make a statement since it happened.
“Ready?” Sebastian calls out to me from the other room.
“Like a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.”
“Pardon?” He pops his head into the closet. “What does that mean?”
“You people and your language barriers. It means I’m about to get my ass kicked since I can’t do much of the ass kicking.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “You’re being dramatic.”
I sigh. He’s cute and all and great in bed, but sometimes I swear, this man doesn’t feel my American sarcasm.
“Let’s do this before I change my mind.”
He steps into me and takes my hands. “Bellamy, if you truly don’t want to, we don’t have to.
But you can’t shy away from the world, and frankly, it’s time you spoke to them.
I know it’s the last thing you want to do, and I know attention is far from your favorite thing, but let’s give them some hell. ”
“That was very American of you to say.”
He grins. “I thought so. Let’s go.” He smacks a kiss on my lips and when we step into the hall, Althea is there, typing furiously on her phone.
“Ah, here you are. Everything is all set. You will make your speech or however you intend to do it and the shops you requested are ready followed by the restaurant.”
“Shops? Restaurant?”
Sebastian throws me a side-eye. “My wife wants to walk around and explore Geneva. I picked out a few shops I thought you’d like and a restaurant I know you’ll love.”
“I take back every bad thing I ever said about you,” I tell him as we step into the elevator.
“You don’t mean that.”
I snicker. “You’re right. I don’t. Let’s get this over with so I can eat—I mean shop.”
Sebastian takes my hand, giving me a small, reassuring squeeze. “Here goes nothing.”
As we step out of the hotel, a sea of flashing cameras and clamoring voices assaults us. The press swarm around us like a pack of rabid wolves, desperate for any morsel of news they can sink their teeth into. This is how celebrities must feel, and it’s beyond weird to categorize myself as one.
“King Sebastian, Queen Bellamy! Is it true that your marriage is on the rocks?”
“Your Majesty, how do you respond to the allegations that you only married your wife because of the pregnancy?”
“Queen Bellamy, are you feeling overwhelmed by your new role and responsibilities?”
The questions fly at us from all directions, each one more invasive—and frankly rude—than the last. My heart races and panic claws at the edges of my mind, but I refuse to let them see me falter.
With a steely resolve, Sebastian places his arm firmly around my waist and pulls me close. He turns to face the crowd of reporters, his voice strong and confident as he speaks.
“Enough!” he commands, silencing the onslaught of inquiries. “I have had enough of these baseless rumors and accusations.” The press seems taken aback by his sudden display of growly authority, and for a moment, the cacophony of voices dies down.
Clearly, they’ve never seen him inside the palace when he’s being the beast king.
He stares down the reporters, his eyes emanating authority.
“I will address these rumors once and for all and that will be the end of it.” I glance up at him, my heart swelling with love.
Despite protocol dictating otherwise, he’s confronting the gossip head-on, placing us above all else.
“Bellamy is my wife, my partner, and the mother and stepmother of my children,” Sebastian continues, his eyes casting down to mine.
“I love her deeply and unconditionally, and I will stand by her no matter what challenges we face. She is my queen in every way, and I am simply a man who is lucky enough that she took me on as her husband and king.”
The crowd before us seems to momentarily hold its collective breath, processing the weight of his words.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the din. “Thank you for being my rock.”
He gazes down at me, his eyes softening with tenderness. “Always.”
The swell of pride and happiness within me threatens to overflow, a warm sensation that radiates from my heart and permeates every fiber of my being.
I don’t care what the press has to say after this.
It’s funny, I don’t think I had truly considered myself the queen until this moment.
Standing here beside him, ready to tackle the world and give myself over to my husband and his country.
With an encouraging and loving smile aimed at me and the protective arm he has around me, I can’t help but feel emboldened.
“Your Majesty, do you have anything to say?” A reporter’s question slices through the dissonance of voices and camera shutters, redirecting the spotlight onto me.
Inhaling deeply, and with my newfound determination, I step forward, ready to face the press head-on.
“Ever since I became queen,” I begin, my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart.
“I’ve been hesitant to speak before you all.
The attention can be overwhelming, and I feared that any words I uttered would only fuel the rumors that have plagued us.
I’m young. I was the nanny, and yes, I’m pregnant.
That’s all true.” I pause, glancing at Sebastian with a wry smile on my lips.
“However, sometimes people meet in the most unforeseen of ways and fall in love when they least expect it.” My voice gains strength as I continue.
“I love Sebastian, I love his children, and I love his beautiful country that has welcomed me so graciously.”
A murmur ripples through the crowd, but I ignore it and press on.
“Sebastian and I are excited for what the future holds, both for our growing family and for our country. Thank you for your time and please, allow us privacy. We are newlyweds, after all.” I wink at the reporters, retake Sebastian’s hand, and start to walk off.
“You’re going the wrong way,” Sebastian murmurs to me when we hit the sidewalk, and I keep going.
“Now you tell me.”
He chuckles. “You were incredible.”
I smile. “So were you.”
We’ve been home for a week, and everything seems to have settled down. The press has left us alone, even calling us the most adorably in-love royal couple in history. Now there is a “bump watch,” but considering the twins aren’t expected until the end of August, they have a lot of watching to do.
The children and I along with Arthur have taken to exploring the palace.
There are over a hundred and thirty rooms in this place, and I think I’ve only been in about a dozen or so.
Plus…there is the library. What was once my absolute favorite place in this palace, a sprawling library two stories high including the crow’s nest on top complete with a fireplace and reading area, has become something of a black spot to me.
All I can picture when I think of that room is Samil. The wild, bloodthirsty look in his eyes. The gleam of his blade. The slice of it on my skin. The warm stickiness of my blood. Seeing Sebastian lying on the floor, his pulse fading as he bled out.
I miss it though. The library. It was my sanctuary. My haven. The place that felt like it was mine and mine alone. You know, since Sebastian gave it to me.
I haven’t found another room yet to match it, and trust me, I’ve been searching. Most of these rooms are old, stuffy parlors that are simply dusted so they don’t grow cobwebs or guest bedrooms that could house an army. And I’m not even speaking of the staff’s area, because they have that too.
This palace is mammoth and it’s very cool and old.
But…I want my library back.
Emily is with Sabrina and Zayer in the backyard while they chase Arthur around. Phaedra is expected home from school in about an hour, and Sebastian has been holed up in a conference room for the last two hours along with Althea since today the new prime minister is here visiting.
I told everyone I was going to lie down and that wasn’t a lie. Initially, I was. I’m exhausted. These twins are no joke, and I fear for my ability to parent Phaedra, Sabrina, and Zayer when they come.
I tried to rest. Except my mind wouldn’t relent.
I haven’t told Sebastian, but I’ve been having nightmares about the night of Samil’s attack.
Sometimes they’re just flashes and then they morph into happier times.
Sometimes Sebastian dies on that library floor.
Sometimes I do too, gasping for breath as the slice across my neck goes deeper than it did.
But I’m all about making fear my bitch lately.
So that’s where I find myself. Standing outside the door of the third-floor library entrance.
Much like with the press, I’m tired of being afraid, but this is a different level of fear altogether.
My hand lands on the cool metal latch and with a swift motion, I jerk it down and the door swings open.
My breath catches. No one has been in here in months.
Dust and cobwebs cling to old books and the soft fabrics of the sitting area.
The air is heavy with must and disuse. With a hesitant step and a shaky breath, I enter the room, peering around, but who am I kidding?
My gaze immediately snags on the space between two bookshelves where Samil attacked.
There’s no blood on the floor, so clearly someone came through and cleaned it up.
My feet carry me along, and here I am, standing before the window he intended to throw me out of.
The window that incidentally and ironically broke and he fell to his death from.
It’s been replaced and no one who didn’t know would be the wiser.
I lean against the pane, staring at the jagged rocks a hundred feet down.
I hadn’t known I was pregnant when he tried to kill me.
I’m glad I didn’t because I was quick to sacrifice myself for Sebastian and the children.
If I had known I was pregnant…well, I’m not sure what I would have done or how I would have reacted.
A sigh hits the pane, fogging up the glass, and I spin around, staring out into the room where both Sebastian and I nearly lost our lives.
“I want my room back.”
I wait and listen. Listen for what, I don’t know. The ghost of Samil to come and haunt me maybe, but it never shows. It’s just a room. Just any old room, and much like a curse, it only has power if I allow it to.
“Oh, Samil. You dumb motherfucker. You threatened Nora’s children.
You tried to kill them. You killed her and took her from them.
I only wish I could see just how she’s torturing you in the afterlife.
And Nora?” I say in French as I curtsy, making sure I finally get it right.
“Thank you. I haven’t spoken to you directly yet, and I apologize for that.
Your children are remarkable, and though I didn’t know you, I see so much of you in them, especially Phaedra and Sabrina.
They are such stunning exhibits of you and your grace and beauty while Zayer has such a pure, sweet heart.
How I wish you could see them. See the children they’re becoming and eventually the adults they’ll be.
” I suck in a breath. “I love your children. I will take the best care of them that I can.”
I just hope what Rowan initially said is true. That love is enough to banish this curse from this kingdom once and for all. Because I can’t help it. For the first time, I feel the curse. Right here in this room.
And it doesn’t want to be broken.