Chapter Ten #2
She nestled against him, her voice full of wonder as she asked him questions and then listened to him talk, and he realised that for the first time since he could remember he was utterly relaxed. Content to be in this moment. The relentless engine inside him finally still.
* * *
Guinevere lay with her head pillowed on Tiberius’s shoulder, listening to him talk about the stars. He knew a great deal about them, and for a change he talked without the edge of impatience that usually coloured his voice.
There was no tension in him, she could feel it in his body. And that made her feel good in turn, that she’d managed to give him this. Two hours of every day when he didn’t have to be a king, where he could be free of his burdens if only for a little time.
He needed it. And perhaps the worst part about it was that he didn’t even know he needed it, that she’d had to give him these hours by stealth.
After the first couple of days she’d wondered if he’d realise what she was doing, and perhaps stop coming, but he didn’t. And if he did indeed understand what she was doing, he certainly didn’t question it.
One thing was sure, though. She loved organising their meetings.
Loved choosing places to have them—places he’d enjoy—and choosing food too, since he often forgot to eat, or so the palace staff told her.
She loved spending time with him, talking with him.
He was an interesting and highly intelligent man.
He told her all about his plans for Kasimir—how he hoped to develop certain aspects of it for carefully managed tourism and also create export opportunities for Kasimiran products.
It was clear that he loved his people, loved his country, and that his whole life was directed to one purpose. Making things better. And that desire to make things better, to protect his people, came from a deep empathy, she could tell.
An empathy that came from the man rather than the King.
She wanted to know more about that man, that person, rather than about the role he played, so often their conversations would stray onto other topics as she tried to draw out of him glimpses of who he was deep down.
She discovered that he liked good food, and enjoyed wine, but that he had no hobbies.
His interests were entirely bent to one purpose.
Being a king. She needed to find out more, she decided, which was why today she’d organised to meet him later at night, so that after dinner they could lie in the grass and watch the stars, the way he’d done as a boy.
And she decided that there was nothing nicer than lying here next to him, listening to his deep voice telling her about the rings of Saturn, and how far away the moon was, and other such things.
‘Next time I’ll bring a telescope,’ she said. ‘So you can show me some of the planets.’
‘I’ll get one of my staff to find one.’
They lay in companionable silence for a moment, then he said, ‘Why did you bring me out here?’
She let out a breath, debating whether or not to tell him the truth.
‘I wanted to remind you that there was more to life than being a king,’ she said at last—because why not tell him the truth?
He should hear it. ‘You said that those moments when you were a boy, looking up at the stars, were the most peaceful you ever had, and I just…wanted to give you that and to remind you what it felt like.’
He said nothing for a long moment. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured eventually. ‘It’s been a…long time since I’ve done anything like this.’
She turned her head, looking up at his face, all silver light and shadows under the moon. ‘Why, Tiberius? Why do you drive yourself so hard?’
‘Because there is a lot at stake.’ His voice wasn’t impatient for a change, but almost meditative.
‘Because it’s taking far too long for me to change things.
’ There was another pause, then he added, ‘Because my mother died to protect me. Instead of saving her, my father had to leave her behind in order to save me. She insisted, apparently.’
Guinevere’s heart clenched in her chest. ‘And your father?’
‘Before he died of cancer, five years ago, he made me promise that I would dedicate my life to claiming back the crown and rebuilding what your father broke.’
‘What about you?’ She asked the question almost hesitantly. ‘Is that something you want to do?’
‘It isn’t a question of what I want,’ he said simply. ‘It is what I have to do. It’s the right thing to do.’
Was that regret in his tone? She couldn’t tell.
‘Did you never want to do something else?’
He was looking up at the sky, the expression on his face unreadable. ‘No,’ he said. ‘When I was a child I wanted to be an astronaut—like every other little boy, no doubt. But that wasn’t my destiny.’
The pain in her heart seemed to deepen. There was no wistfulness in his voice, only a flat note that excluded any possibility of him wanting to be anything other than what he was.
‘So you were told very early on what you had to be?’ she said.
‘Yes. From the age of ten I knew that that one day I would be King.’
‘Did you ever…wish for it to be different?’
He turned his head, looking down at her. ‘Different? What do you mean?’
‘Did you ever wish that you weren’t heir to the throne, I mean?’
He looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t remember,’ he said at last. ‘I don’t remember ever having the choice—not that I would have chosen any differently if I had.
’ Something flickered in his eyes then that she couldn’t read.
‘My mother died to save me. She sacrificed herself and I have to make that sacrifice mean something. The same for my father too. On his death bed he made me swear that I would reclaim the crown and be a good king for Kasimir.’
She’d told him what a terrible burden she thought that was before, and she still believed it. That the purpose of his entire life was to make his parents’ deaths mean something seemed a terrible burden to have to carry.
‘You can make their deaths mean something and not drive yourself into an early grave,’ she said. ‘And you can allow yourself other interests that have nothing to do with being a king.’
His gaze flicked back to hers. ‘Speak plainly, lioness. What is it you’re trying to say?’
She paused for a moment, debating the wisdom of discussing this with him again. But she had to try and make him understand—for both their sakes.
‘You’re working too hard, Tiberius,’ she said at last. ‘You’re not allowing yourself any time off or even time out. If you burn yourself out you’ll no longer be able to do much of anything.’
‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, hmm?’
Guinevere held his darkened silver gaze. ‘You’re not going to disappoint them, Tiberius. You do know that, don’t you?’
He frowned. ‘Disappoint who?’
‘Your parents. They put a lot of expectations on you, didn’t they?’
‘No more than any other parent. And no more than was necessary.’ He eased her head off his shoulder gently and sat up. ‘Being King is a high-pressure role—so, yes, of course the expectations will end up being heavy.’
That edge was back in his voice again, and she could have kicked herself for making things awkward. That wasn’t what tonight was supposed to be about.
She shouldn’t have asked difficult questions, shouldn’t she?
‘I understand,’ she said quickly. ‘And I’m not attacking them or criticising them. I just want you to know that you don’t have to be strong all the time…that you don’t have to push yourself constantly.’
‘You’re very invested in my wellbeing.’
‘Of course I am. I’m your wife and you matter to me.’ The words came out sounding a lot more emphatic than they should have. A lot more.
He stared at her, studying her face as if it was map he was trying to read. ‘Guinevere,’ he said at last. ‘Our marriage is not like other people’s, remember?’
She frowned, not understanding. ‘What? What do you mean?’
‘I mean,’ he went on gently, ‘that we did not marry for love.’
‘I know that,’ she said, unsure why the declaration should hurt. ‘What has that got to do with you mattering to me?’
‘I don’t want you to expect things from me that you will never get. For example, you also matter to me—but not more than Kasimir. The country always comes first.’
It was the answer she’d expected, and yet the moment he said it the hurt inside her grew a little more, cut a little deeper.
‘I know that,’ she said reflexively. ‘I’m not asking you to put me ahead of the country.’
‘No, I can see you’re not. I just need you to know that should you want more from me, you will never get it—understand?’
She wanted to ask him what he meant by ‘more’, but she had a horrible feeling she knew already. Love. That was what he meant, wasn’t it? Love would never be a part of their marriage, because he was already in love with Kasimir.
You can’t ask him to put you ahead of the country.
No, she couldn’t. She could never be that selfish. Yet a part of her desperately wished she could.
Why? Why does he matter so much?
But she thought she knew the answer to that already.
It was an answer that had been steadily forming itself deep in her heart for the past three weeks.
That grew every time she spent time with him…
every time he held her in his arms. That wanted more and more of him until she knew that nothing would ever be enough.
That had her dreaming of him, and staring at him, and had her heart beating fast whenever they met.
You’re falling in love with him.
Of course she was, and she hadn’t known because it had never happened to her before. Nevertheless, she knew what this powerful current was, a tide that responded to him as if he was the moon and she the sea, rushing in when he was here, only to retreat when he wasn’t.
It was love.
She was in love with her husband.