Chapter 49
Forty-nine
Edwin
A full hour went past with no sign of James, so I went looking for him.
The worry clenched tight in my chest, tugging painfully, and I wanted to know what had happened.
I also feared what his absence meant. Perhaps Queen Beatrice had gained some leverage against him we didn’t know about? Either way, I needed answers.
While I searched, my thoughts raced. What would I do? What would I do if I was sent away and he was forced into another political marriage?
James swore he would never let himself be manipulated into one, and I believed he meant it.
But he’d not wanted a political marriage the first time and it’d still happened.
The truth of the matter was, James was too good of a man.
If push came to shove, if his own desires were pitted against a greater good, he’d sacrifice himself.
I wasn’t merely guessing, either. Everything he’d told me about our first life, all the notes he’d shown me in his notebook, painted a clear picture.
James had known the many projects he’d started—the veterans’ hospital, the housing laws, and more—depended on him being here to maintain them.
They were too raw, too new, in their infantile states.
If the main organizer bowed out at this stage, the projects would come to an abrupt end, and a lot of people would be left suffering as a result. No one could refute that sad truth.
It was one of the reasons James had acquiesced in the first life. Why he’d taken the throne despite not wanting it.
I had a gut feeling he’d be forced to make the same decision again.
I selfishly wanted him on the throne because I knew he’d be stunningly good at ruling.
He was already half running the country, despite the short time he’d been here.
James got things done, which was why more and more people ignored the king and came to James—because they wanted results, not promises.
I also selfishly didn’t want him married to anyone but me. We hadn’t talked about marriage yet, but I knew it was coming. James was not at all shy about his feelings for me. Just the idea of some woman sinking her claws into him made my skin crawl.
So I had to ask myself, what would I do if James was once again offered the throne and a political marriage?
The only thing I could do.
After searching half the palace, I finally found him in the training yard.
James was clearly not in a good mood. He’d stripped off his suit coat and shirt, both of them carelessly tossed over a nearby bench, and was currently destroying one of the training posts with a sword.
There wasn’t much left. Pieces of the post had been carved out in a ruthless, hacking fashion and were now so much kindling on the ground.
My heart leapt into my throat because this meant things had gone very poorly. Or he was still pissed off. I dearly hoped for the latter.
Like usual when I showed up, James immediately seemed to realize.
I never could sneak up on him. I’d swear he had a magical alert bell on his person if I didn’t know better, he was so accurate.
Really, those war-trained instincts kept track of everything around him.
He stopped destroying the poor post and turned to look at me, breathing a touch hard.
“Edwin. Sorry, I had to calm my temper down first.”
This might be good…? “Did you overturn my transfer, then?”
“Yes. I did, don’t worry. She’s also quite clear on what will happen if she tries to send you away from me again.”
Relief made my knees go weak. Not just the idea of having to pack, sell my house, and move to the opposite side of the country—which was all a factor, as I detested moving—but being so far from him. That stressed me the most.
If today had done nothing else, it had shown me that my feelings for this man clearly ran much deeper than I’d thought.
My panic and concern were like eels inside my gut, churning and twisting, even after he’d reassured me the situation was taken care of.
All I could think was, what of next time?
Queen Beatrice clearly had an agenda, and she wouldn’t stop until she got James to do what she wanted.
So what if she managed to win the next round?
I didn’t want to lose this man.
No, I couldn’t bear to lose him. I refused, utterly.
James caught my hand and squeezed lightly, a comforting gesture. He tried to smile, but it never reached his eyes. “I promise you, this has been taken care of.”
The distress must have been clearly seen on my face, but I’d long since lost the ability to hide my emotions from James. “I think we both know this was nothing more than an opening salvo.”
James winced and didn’t disagree.
“What did she hope to do, precisely? Simply get rid of me before you grew too attached?"
“No, she also wanted me to marry Helena.”
I—she—what?! “Your sibling.”
“Cousin by blood, no less, although that doesn’t matter to royalty as much, I guess.
” James blew out a blustering sigh and slid the sword back into its sheath.
“I think her plan was to nullify the adoption so it was more aboveboard when she married us off together. I utterly refused. Told her if she tried it again, I’d walk. ”
“James, I do not want you walking.”
“I know I have a lot of people depending on me here. I realize that.”
“That’s part of it. Plus, I shudder to think of what would happen when you leave, because you have a lot, personally, you must do here still.”
He grimaced and refused to comment.
“I want you as king, as you know.”
He grimaced again, his jaw clenched in anger.
“I, obviously, do not want you to marry someone else. That said”—I ducked my head to catch his eyes, snare them with mine, and draw his head back up—“if you are forced into a political marriage—”
“Edwin, I swear that won’t happen.”
“If you are,” I maintained, “I will not leave you.”
For a moment, he seemed to seize in place. Surprise, mostly. Then he softened into a warm smile and kissed me lightly.
“Do you love me that much, then?” James murmured to me in a low, rich voice. “You’d openly be my paramour?”
“Even I’m surprised at myself, but yes.”
This made him happy, I could tell, but he still looked sad, too. “I wonder if your answer would have been the same in the first life.”
“You should have asked me.” I pointed a stern finger at him. “I probably would have. Let this be a lesson to you to use your words.”
He snorted and the sadness eased. “All that said, I won’t marry someone else. I’ll only marry you.”
“Even if it costs everything else?”
“Oh, I’m sure it won’t come down to that.”
I wasn’t so sure. Too many pressures, too many factors, pressed in on all sides. We might shortly find ourselves between a rock and a hard place. I took his face in both of my hands, wanting him to truly hear me.
“James, I swear to you, no matter what happens in the future, I will not leave your side. So do what you must, all right?”
He turned his head to kiss my palm. “I truly promise you it won’t come down to that. We’ll execute plan B. I have a stunning winery in Crele we can retreat to. Run my business from there, drink excellent wine. It’ll be paradise.”
He spoke of the most beautiful, tourist-heavy country in the world; of course it would be paradise. “I reiterate my promise. I will move with you, if it comes to that.”
“Aww, you do love me. Enough to move for me.”
“You know I hate moving?”
“You detest it. It’s the one thing you’d commit murder to avoid.”
“Then take it as a declaration of my devotion to you. Yes, James, I will move for you. But let’s please avoid that, hmm?”
“I’ll do my best.” With a sigh, he looked around the training yard and at the knights who had been hiding in the wings, not daring to use the yard while James was clearly in a mood. “I’d best clean up and go back to work now that the danger is over. I’m interfering with their training.”
He replaced his sword, then collected his shirt and coat, which I took from him. He was dripping sweat; no reason to get them sweat-stained. I offered a hand, and he grinned as he took it.
“To think you were so shy at first about holding hands with me in public,” he teased as we exited the training yard.
“This is a preventative measure,” I informed him loftily.
“Oh?”
“Excuse you? You’re walking around like that”—I pointed to his still bare chest, glistening with sweat and clearly emphasizing every muscle—“and not expecting trouble? Do you truly not have any concept of how large and rabid your fan club is?”
James batted those emerald green eyes of his and purred, “But I only have eyes for you, darling.”
“I know this and appreciate it, but dammit, James, walking around like eye candy is asking for trouble.”
“They can admire all they want as long as they keep their distance,” James said with a casual I-do-not-care shrug.
This man. Seriously, what was I supposed to do with him?
He so clearly didn’t realize just how stunning he looked.
Or he didn’t care. I hadn’t pinpointed yet which it might be.
The only thing he seemed to truly care about was me, which, while flattering in its own way, did land us in a pickle from time to time.
I did not think his plan B would truly work.
Not a single person would allow him to escape this country, to start with, and him leaving might well start an internal war.
If, and gods above I hoped it didn’t come to this, but if Queen Beatrice forced our hand, perhaps we could use our leaving as a bartering chip to put James on the throne in a better way.
Without all the pressure of a political marriage.
I didn’t bring the idea up with him. Right now, he wasn’t in the mood to hear it. He’d only just worked off his temper, to boot.
Queen Beatrice had clearly mis-stepped, James had raked her over the coals for it, and hopefully for once she learned.
I wasn’t holding my breath, mind you, because to date she hadn’t learned from her mistakes.
Still, the events of this morning had hopefully bought us some time to consider what else we could do to prevent the pitfalls.
The maids and quite a few of the male palace staff members all admired the view as we walked past them. I gave James some very pointed looks—see what you’re doing?—but he shrugged, unconcerned. Of course he was.
If he got abducted to be part of some harem, it would not be my fault. I’d warned him.
It was a relief to reach his room and let him wash off the sweat and pull on fresh clothes.
I sat and waited for him, thinking all the while.
Clearly, I needed to put more effort into getting a higher-tier informant in with the queen’s people.
This should not have blindsided us like it had.
James had said he had six people, but he hadn’t mentioned precisely who, and I had a feeling he had more people in with King Patrick than Queen Beatrice.
That must change, and I had a good idea of who would be susceptible to a bribe.
From this point on, I wanted to be on top of things.
If today was any indication, then my illustrious monarchs had a goal, and they were not about to be thwarted.