Chapter 27 – Sebastian
SEBASTIAN
“Are you ready, sir?” Javier asks as we’re standing before the double doors that will lead us into the ballroom.
Guests began arriving an hour ago, having to go through multiple security checkpoints before being escorted here.
On my arm is my aunt, on her other side is Rowan.
Bellamy and the children will be down in about thirty minutes.
I wanted to make sure everyone had arrived and the front gates were closed before they entered.
“Yes. You may open the doors.”
Althea squeezes my forearm and Rowan straightens his spine. A bubble of energy builds within me. Not an apprehension necessarily, but the weight of what we’re about to do. The risk I’m taking with all of this isn’t lost on me.
From the other side of the door, the attendant calls out, “His Majesty, King Sebastian of Messalina, Prince Rowan of Messalina, and Lady Althea of Alarie.”
All sound stops as the doors sweep open in front of us, and as one, the three of us enter the ballroom.
“They’re staring,” Rowan murmurs so low only the three of us can hear.
I hold in my snicker, because yes, they’re staring.
Hundreds of people have their eyes glued to us.
A wave of bows and curtsies leads our processional as we make our way across the vast room to the receiving space at the far wall.
This is the part of being king I never enjoyed.
Shaking hands and smiling with one person after another until all their faces blur into one.
Pictures snap, clicking sounds with bright flashes of light.
The room is so silent, you could hear a pin drop.
Not even a murmur. Just as we reach our post, the music begins again, and all the shock at seeing me for the first time in years—Rowan is everywhere all the time, so his presence isn’t the least bit odd to anyone—wears off.
I take a breath, resisting the urge to adjust my bow tie.
“Sir.” The press secretary greets me with a curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to see you. Might I say, you look handsome.”
“Thank you. You look lovely as well.”
She blushes slightly at that and curtsies again.
“We have a line of people to meet you, but it will only be heads of state. After that, we figured mingling is more appropriate since this isn’t a state dinner, it’s a ball.
After that, you’ll make an opening address, and shortly after, dinner will be served. ”
“Sounds good to me,” Rowan slips out.
“Agreed.”
“Very well. May I present our own prime minister first, Samil Batorini.”
“Him first?” Althea bemoans.
“Might as well get it over and done with,” I quip just as he stands before me with a smile on his face. He reaches out his hand to me, refusing to bow. Fucker. I take his hand and we both smile for a picture while we silently duel to break the other’s fist.
Leaning in, he gets right up in my face, speaking in a low tone so no one else can hear. “You’re a cocksucker,” he seethes. “Pulling this ball out of nowhere. Throwing Bellamy in my face as your girlfriend at our last meeting when we both know that was a fucking lie.”
“Careful, Samil, you’re sounding awfully bitter. You forget where you are and who you’re speaking to.”
Beady eyes slither into slits. “You don’t deserve her. Someone that young and beautiful and bright. She should be with me. On my arm as my trophy. Not yours.”
“She’s so much more than a trophy, which is why you’ll never possess her.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
I blink at him, confused. He doesn’t know Bellamy. They’ve only interacted on two separate occasions while he was staying here in the palace, and both of those times were limited. His remarks are madness and make no sense other than being part of his insane ego and twisted mind.
“Do you honestly believe she loves you? A poor girl with no prospects, trapped here as a nanny?” He makes a tsking sound. “Yes, I know how she found herself here. Naturally she’d link herself onto the king to change her circumstance. She’s no fool.”
I glower at him, and he smirks, misreading me completely.
“You should be worried about that. It was the same with Nora. Why would they ever love you for anything more than your title when they could have had me for real?”
“Samil, I’m not worried about Bellamy’s love for me.
No, this isn’t about her, is it?” I study him, realizing something for the first time after all these years.
“This is about me. About your sick, distorted jealousy of me. Your need to hurt me any way you can for marrying Nora. Now you’re stuck in some perverse, ill-placed obsession and using Bellamy as your go-between. ”
It’s the only explanation I can arrive at. Why he went after Nora so aggressively, even after she told him no countless times. Why he became prime minister when politics had never been his aspiration when we were growing up. Why he’s now convinced Bellamy should be his and not mine.
But the question is, where will this obsession with hurting me lead us?
He scoffs, but it’s clear I’ve hit my mark.
His skin flushes hot and his eyes grow manic.
He opens his mouth to say something when the press secretary interjects, gracefully ushering Samil along since he’s holding up the line.
I do my best to shake that off, to not think further about it as I continue to meet and greet with dozens more people.
Then it’s mingling and more smiling and introductions that seem to go on forever.
The conversation with Samil doesn’t fully leave my mind until my children and Bellamy are announced.
Then it’s as if everything inside me springs back to life.
All eyes once again turn to the door, but I can’t stop myself from marching through the crowd to greet them.
The ballroom doors sweep open, and the breath is immediately robbed from my chest.
Bellamy is a vision in gold. Swirling tendrils of glowing silk and chiffon swish around her from the floor up, tapering into a tightly fitted bodice that hugs her breasts, the sparkling heart diamond nestled between them in her strapless masterpiece.
Her hair is pulled back from her face, knotted behind her head with the bottom half of her thick, dark mane flowing across her back in elegant waves.
Her makeup matches her dress, shimmering gold-dusted eyes and a smile of red lips that sets my heart ablaze.
“Your Majesty,” Bellamy greets me demurely with a small curtsy she still hasn’t mastered, very aware of the audience focused solely on us.
“You’re a goddess,” I murmur, unable to catch myself before it slips out.
Phaedra giggles, and I turn my focus to my princesses and little prince.
Phaedra is in a green gown that matches her eyes, and Sabrina is wearing white that I have no doubt will be covered in spills by the end of the night.
Zayer is in a tuxedo that matches mine, and I instantly kneel, scooping him up into my arms.
“He’s your clone tonight, sir,” Bellamy says, and I’m smiling like a fool.
“He is. You girls look beautiful. Shining reflections of your mama.”
Phaedra and Sabrina preen at that. Especially Phaedra, who loves it when I tell her she looks like Nora. Rowan appears at my side, taking the girls’ hands and spinning them around, showering them with endless compliments before he turns to Bellamy and gives me a wink that says I’m a lucky bastard.
I am a lucky bastard.
“Sir, if I may, now is the time for you to make your address to the room.”
“Perfect timing,” I tell the press secretary without taking my eyes off Bellamy.
“Rowan, would you be so kind as to keep watch of my children for a moment? It seems I have a speech to deliver.”
He chuckles under his breath, rolling his eyes indulgently. “Sure. How about we find some hors d’oeuvres to fill us up? I can only imagine all the grown-up food we’ll be forced to eat during dinner.”
Sabrina makes an ick face, and I set Zayer down.
Bellamy takes his hand. “I’ll help.”
I lean into her ear and whisper, “Don’t go too far.”
Nerves instantly strike her features, but she composes herself quickly and wanders toward the stations of food we have out during cocktail hour.
That’s when the murmurs grow, the sound carrying above the orchestra, following my every step as I pass tables and people anxious to greet me all the way to the front of the room, standing at the head of the dance floor and cutting off the music all in one fell swoop.
The press secretary hands me a microphone, and I peer out over the room, noting the press and all the celebrities and world leaders dressed in their black-tie best. “Good evening,” I start in French and repeat it in Italian and then English since the latter is the common language currency we all speak.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” I continue in English.
“I have no doubt this invitation came as a shock to many of you. I can assure you, the decision to open the palace up, to invite you all here for a Christmas ball that was at one time an annual occurrence, was not an easy one. For years, I’ve been held down by fear.
Fear of something perceived, not necessarily imagined.
“Many of you don’t know me personally, but you’ve certainly all heard the rumors.
It wasn’t until recently that I began to once again see dawn on my horizon.
That I allowed myself to entertain the idea of leaving the palace or allowing my children, the heirs of my country, to leave the palace.
You might be asking yourself about the reason for such a drastic change, and my answer is simple. Love.”
Audible gasps and the rumbling of voices take over before dying just as quickly. I search around the room and lock on Bellamy, who is staring at me, poised and beautiful, and I smile at her.