Chapter Four #3
‘I heard things,’ she admitted. ‘Once I tried to talk to my father about it, but he told me that it wasn’t my business and to stay out of it.
So… There was nothing I could do.’ Tearing her gaze from the flat expression in Tiberius’s eyes, she glanced down at her hands yet again, acid collecting in her stomach.
‘So, I suppose you’re right, in a way. I was complicit in my father’s crimes. ’
A silence fell over the room.
She could feel him looking at her—judging her, no doubt. And he had a right to. Her father had almost ruined Kasimir, while all she’d been worried about was her own safety. She wasn’t any better than he was. Because she too had fled and hid.
‘How did you know about the passageways?’ His tone was impossible to read. ‘My father used to tell me stories about them, but he said no one else knew about them.’
She didn’t want to tell him the truth—that she’d merely been a toy her brothers had used to hone their bullying skills on, and that instead of standing up to them she’d hidden in the walls.
She could only imagine what he would think of that.
He was tall and strong and powerful. He wouldn’t understand fear.
He would think her a coward, just like her father, and he’d be right.
‘I discovered them when I was playing hide and seek with my brothers.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie…merely a variation of the truth. ‘The armoire in my mother’s rooms was locked, and I couldn’t get out, so I kicked open the back of it and found the opening behind.’
‘The lock is on the outside of the armoire doors,’ he said, his tone expressionless. ‘It would require someone to actually turn the key to lock you in.’
Guinevere swallowed and looked down at her hands, twisted in her lap. She didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want that icy silver gaze to judge her the way he judged her father.
‘I don’t know how that happened,’ she said carefully.
There was a silence.
‘I think you do.’ His voice was soft, but there was something hard and unyielding in his tone.
In spite of herself, Guinevere glanced up. The expression on his face now was frightening in its intensity, his silver eyes sharp as knives, and even though she knew that he likely wouldn’t hurt her, she couldn’t help her instinctive flinch.
‘What did they do to you?’ he asked, in the same unyielding tone. ‘And they definitely did something. I can see it in your eyes.’
There was no judgment in his face, but there was certainly anger, and she wondered why. What did he care what had happened to her? No one else had.
You should tell him the truth.
She didn’t want to, but it was clear he suspected what the truth was, and she had a feeling he wasn’t going to let her leave until he had it. And, really, what did his judgement matter anyway? Yes, he was her husband, but it wasn’t as if they loved each other—not when they’d only just met.
‘My father didn’t touch me,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. ‘But my brothers liked to…tease me.’
The hard glitter in Tiberius’s gaze didn’t falter, but a muscle leapt in the side of his strong jaw. ‘How? By locking you in the armoire?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted.
‘Were there other things they did?’
Her mouth was dry, but she forced herself to speak. ‘They liked to…chase me through the palace. And pull my hair. Sometimes, when I was much younger, they’d break my toys.’ The look on his face had changed, and now it frightened her. ‘It wasn’t anything too bad,’ she added quickly.
‘Did they hurt you?’
‘Please…’ she said without thinking. ‘Please, don’t be angry.’
His eyes widened for a moment, as if what she’d said had surprised him, before narrowing into glittering silver slits as he studied her. ‘I’m not angry with you, Guinevere,’ he said quietly. ‘I am angry with those who hurt you.’
Something inside her eased at that, and she realised she’d been sitting there tensely, as if waiting for him to explode in a furious rage, preparing to run from the room in fright.
He’s not going to do that, and you know it.
Perhaps she did know it. He seemed to be in a constant state of annoyance, and yet he did not throw anything or scream obscenities the way her father did, or say cruel things and laugh the way her brothers did.
He was contained, she thought. Self-possessed and impervious. And for some reason that made her feel safe.
‘They…did hurt me,’ she said in a rush—because he’d asked for the truth and she wanted to give it to him, especially since he’d already guessed. ‘That’s why I hid in the passageways. So they wouldn’t find me.’
Tiberius’s expression remained hard as stone. ‘They will pay for it,’ he said, pronouncing the words like a vow. ‘They will pay for what they did to this country and for what they did to you.’
Surprise rippled through her. ‘Why should you care about what they did to me?’
‘You are my queen, and as King it is my duty to protect you as I do all my subjects.’
She heard it then. The steel beneath his tone.
He stood before the empty fireplace, muscular arms folded, a severe expression on his face and his light grey eyes glittering with intention.
A strange kind of thrill went through her.
She’d never had anyone state that they would protect her—not one single person.
But, looking at his fierce expression, she believed him.
He absolutely would protect her.
That made her feel warm, and immensely reassured, and for the first time in what felt like years her muscles relaxed.
She let out a breath. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and she meant it, though she didn’t know what else to say—she didn’t want to keep talking about her brothers.
‘But you didn’t ask me here to talk to me about my life. You wanted to discuss our marriage.’
At that moment there was a knock on the door. Tiberius gave her one long, sharp glance, then turned to answer it.
A minute later the room was full of serving staff who unloaded food onto the huge wooden desk that was the only available flat surface in the room. They arranged it along with a bottle of wine from the palace cellars, and then left as discreetly as they’d come.
‘I’ve had dinner brought to us,’ Tiberius said. ‘The main dining room has yet to be cleaned and, given your feelings about the royal apartments, I thought you would prefer to eat here.’
Another little shock went through her. She hadn’t expected him to think about that. She hadn’t expected him to think about her feelings at all.
‘Thank you,’ she repeated, which appeared to be her standard response.
‘Eat.’ He gestured at the food. ‘You must be hungry.’
It was true—she was. She hadn’t bothered with lunch. She’d stayed in the safety of the little library, too out of sorts and uncomfortable with Tiberius’s intense electric presence to leave it.
She still felt that he might be a danger to her in some way, but it wasn’t the same as the sick dread that used to fill her whenever she heard her brothers’ voices.
No, his danger felt almost exciting…which was very strange.
Anyway, the food was there, and her stomach was empty, so it seemed silly to refuse.
Rising from the chair, she went over and helped herself. It was a simple meal—salad and fresh bread and roasted chicken.
Tiberius poured her a glass of wine as she pulled a chair up to the desk and began to eat.
‘There will be some making do until the palace has been fully restored,’ he said, pouring a glass for himself too. ‘As you can see.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she felt compelled to say. ‘For the condition my father left the palace in.’
‘Did you spray paint the walls and burn the tapestries?’ he asked mildly.
‘No, but—’
‘Then you have nothing to apologise for.’ His silver gaze was very direct.
‘We must present a united front as rulers, Guinevere. I have been thinking on this and I have decided that our marriage must at least look cordial, if not joyful. We will need to be seen together, as well as making official public appearances together. I want our union to look strong and steadfast—do you understand?’
A tight, hot feeling prickled over her skin. ‘Strong and steadfast? How?’
‘The King’s bedroom is part of the royal apartments, which means we will have to share them.’
The prickling feeling deepened. ‘Sh-share?’
Tiberius finally picked up his glass of wine, slowly swirling the deep red liquid inside it. ‘Not the bedrooms. We’ll keep those separate. But we should be seen to retire to the royal apartments together, at least initially, as any newly married couple would.’
Her stomach tightened for reasons she didn’t care to examine too closely.
‘You don’t have to sleep there if you don’t wish to,’ he continued. ‘No one knows about the corridors, which means no one will know if you choose to sleep in that little room.’
The warmth that had been sitting inside her ever since he’d touched her hand and then said he’d protect her deepened.
She might be his prisoner, but he was granting her a space that was hers and hers alone, free of the memories that soaked through every other part of the palace.
It was almost as if he was taking her feelings into account.
She could feel colour rise into her face, but she didn’t look away from him this time. ‘You really won’t mind?’
‘I don’t see why not. You shouldn’t have to deal with memories that upset you.’
‘I…appreciate that.’
He gave her a regal nod in acknowledgement. ‘And another thing… You’ll need some preparation, I think, before our first public appearance.’
‘Preparation? What kind of preparation?’
‘You say you haven’t ever left the palace. Not once. But public appearances will involve not only leaving the palace, but visiting various Kasimiran cities. There will also be international engagements we will need to attend.’
An unfamiliar excitement filled her, even as the thought of venturing outside made her nervous. There was embarrassment there, as well, at how sheltered she must seem to him—backward, even. Though why she should feel embarrassed about something she hadn’t had a choice in, she didn’t know.
‘Good,’ she said, forcing away the odd mix of feelings. ‘That won’t be a problem. It’s not as if I wanted to spent the last twenty-three years stuck in here.’
His gaze was considering. ‘I don’t want to throw you into the deep end straight away—especially not with the public looking on. Perhaps we can acclimatise you to the outside world a little before then.’
You’ll be going outside. Actually outside!
A quiver ran through her. ‘Acclimatise how?’
‘We can start somewhere within the palace grounds. The forest…or the orchards, perhaps.’
The orchards she’d seen out the windows of her little room, full of many different fruit trees. Sometimes she’d imagine herself being able to walk amongst the trees, reaching up to pick herself an orange or a peach.
‘I was only allowed in the courtyard gardens and on some of the terraces,’ she offered hesitantly. ‘I haven’t been to the orchards or the forest.’
‘In that case,’ Tiberius said, ‘we shall start there.’ Then, unexpectedly, a faint smile turned one side of his mouth. ‘Now. I was told my new queen didn’t touch her lunch today, so eat—please.’
That smile. It turned him from charismatic to utterly beautiful in seconds flat. And it felt to her as if she’d been given a gift…a glimpse of the man behind the hard, stern King. A warmer, easier kind of man.
But then the smile vanished.
As if it had never been.