Chapter 3 #2
“She is a lovely girl,” Beatrice continued, her thumb tracing the line of my collarbone through the fabric of my shirt.
“But she is fragile. She thrives in the dirt, surrounded by her vines, because plants do not judge. Plants do not plot treason. You brought her into a war zone, Henrik. It is understandable that she is breaking under the pressure.”
“She is not breaking,” I said, my voice low, gravelly. “She is stubborn. She is reacting to the constraints.”
“She is a liability,” Beatrice whispered, leaning closer.
The scent of her floral perfume filled the air between us, a stark contrast to the smell of rain and soil that clung to my wife.
“The European tour is in two months. You will be facing hostile press, aggressive trade ministers, and grueling schedules. If she cannot survive a charity luncheon in her own home, how will she survive a continent? You cannot spend the entire tour protecting her from the cameras.”
I closed my eyes, the pressure in my skull intensifying.
The European tour was vital. It was the keystone of my entire economic strategy.
A single misstep could cost the country billions in trade revenue and shatter our alliances.
I needed a partner who could survive the political minefield without requiring constant protection.
I needed someone who understood the ruthless nature of the game.
“I will handle Natalie,” I stated, opening my eyes and looking at Beatrice. The command in my voice was absolute, leaving no room for further debate. “The tour will proceed as planned. You will assist Silas with the itinerary preparations.”
Beatrice smiled, a slow, triumphant curve of her lips. She removed her hand from my shoulder, stepping back to restore the professional distance between us. “Of course, Your Highness. I am at your disposal. I only want what is best for the crown. What is best for you.”
She picked up her glass and walked toward the door, leaving a trail of perfume and quiet devastation in her wake.
When the door clicked shut, I was alone again.
I stood up from my chair and walked to the massive windows that overlooked the southern edge of the estate.
The sky had turned a dark, bruised purple, massive rain clouds rolling in from the coast. The vineyards were a distant blur of green and brown, a messy, organic sprawl that defied the rigid geometry of the palace gardens.
Natalie was out there. I knew it with absolute certainty. Whenever the pressure of the crown became too much, she fled to the dirt. She sought comfort in the silent, unjudging earth, burying her hands in the soil to escape the cold marble of our reality.
She viewed my ambition as a betrayal. She saw Beatrice as a replacement.
I pressed my palm flat against the cold glass of the window.
She did not understand the sacrifices I made daily to keep this kingdom intact.
She did not see the nights I spent reviewing defense budgets and agricultural subsidies, ensuring her precious vineyards remained funded and protected.
I carried the fate of millions on my back, and she demanded I put it down to hold her hand.
I stared out at the rolling hills, a sudden memory piercing through my armor.
I remembered the day I proposed. I had taken her to the very vineyards she now hid within.
I had knelt in the mud, ruining a bespoke suit, and placed a simple gold band on her finger.
I had promised her that I would never let the palace change us.
I had sworn that our love would be the foundation of my reign.
I had broken that promise. I had allowed the relentless machinery of the state to grind our intimacy into dust.
But I could not afford to let the fracture between us widen.
Beatrice was right about the optics. A divided house invited treason.
The ministers were watching, calculating the strength of my marriage as a measure of my fitness to rule.
I needed Natalie to return to the fold. I needed her to stand beside me, calm and compliant, to project the stability the country demanded.
I needed to fix the damage I had caused, and I needed to do it before morning.
I turned away from the window and pressed a button on the intercom sitting on my desk.
“Silas,” I barked, the gravel returning to my voice.
“Yes, Your Highness,” the reply came through the speaker.
“Report to my study.”
I paced the length of the room, my mind shifting into a purely analytical state.
The problem was emotional, which meant it required a tangible solution.
Natalie felt undervalued. She felt that I had prioritized the state over her dignity.
I needed to provide a clear, undeniable demonstration of her value, a gesture that proved her position in my life was secure.
I could not go to the vineyard myself. The Chancellor was expecting a revised draft of the trade agreement within the hour, and I had three foreign dignitaries waiting for private audiences.
My schedule was an impenetrable wall of obligations.
I could not abandon my post to stand in the mud and argue about feelings.
Silas entered the study, offering a crisp bow. “You summoned me, Your Highness.”
“I require a withdrawal from the family vaults,” I instructed, stopping my pacing and turning to face him. “The eastern collection. The vintage diamond bracelet commissioned by King Edward. Retrieve it.”
Silas blinked, a rare crack in his professional facade. “The Edwardian piece? Your Highness, that item is restricted. It is traditionally reserved for coronation ceremonies and significant royal anniversaries. It is a piece of state history.”
“Retrieve it,” I repeated, my tone leaving no room for debate. “Place it in a standard presentation box.”
“Yes, Your Highness. And where shall I deliver it?”
I looked toward the windows, watching the first thick drops of rain hit the glass. “My wife is in the southern fields. You will deliver it to her there. Inform her that I express my deepest regrets for the friction today. Convey that I value her partnership.”
Silas nodded, his face returning to a mask of absolute neutrality. “I will ensure the message is delivered as instructed.”
“See that you do. Dismissed.”
Silas turned and exited the room.
I walked back to my desk and sat down, pulling the next briefing folder toward me.
The tension in my neck began to recede. I had identified the crisis, analyzed the root cause, and executed a solution.
The diamond bracelet was a priceless artifact, a piece of royal history that carried the undeniable weight of my commitment.
It was a physical manifestation of her worth, a transactional apology that required no further emotional expenditure on my part.
Natalie would receive the gift. She would recognize the value of the gesture. She would understand that my actions at the luncheon were dictated by duty, not a lack of affection. The diamonds would smooth over the bruised ego, restoring the peace I required to govern.
I picked up my pen, turning my attention to the trade agreement.