Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE
Q UEEN E MILIA OF L AS S OSEGADAS was perfect. Everyone agreed. And Caius surprised everyone—especially himself—by becoming an excellent King Consort.
If he said so himself.
But he was not required to say so himself, because everyone else said so, too.
Eventually.
There was an initial period of uncertainty, but he passed that test the way he had every other test in his life. And this time, he didn’t do it by assuming that same old character. He did it as himself.
He stepped away from his life in Hollywood, because he didn’t need it. Not when he had Mila. Besides, it turned out that he was far better at setting a scene and creating a publicity narrative than anyone on any of her crisis teams. He could do that job in his sleep. He did.
The best part was that all of the narratives they crafted were true.
In essence.
They divorced in secret so that they could remarry in style. It was the most lavish affair either one of them had ever taken part in, and they loved every moment of it. The bells rang for days. Holidays were called, viewing parties were gathered. There were celebrations in the streets, and his mother was not allowed in the country.
“I will accept nothing less,” Caius told her.
“I will see to it you don’t have to,” she replied.
And as the years passed, that was exactly what they did. He piously applied himself to their most important duty and made certain that there was not only an heir, but a great passel of them.
And better yet, he gave his children gifts that he had never had. A sense of place. A sense of purpose.
Because Mila had set him free. And he, in turn, understood that he was her true home.
Together, they made certain the children would grow up balanced between the two. Aware of the duties attendant upon them as members of their family, but still free to make their own choices.
In his spare time, Caius worked on his passion project—a charity that created free cinema opportunities for children all over the world, to help them imagine something better than what they had. To help them wonder. To allow them a little joy when that might have been in short supply.
It took him much longer to win over his mother-in-law, but Caius was a very patient man.
“I always knew that you would adore me, Queen Alondra,” he said as they danced at his eldest’s wedding. “I’ve been waiting.”
“You are a questionable man,” the Queen Mother said with a sniff. But then she smiled, because being a grandmother had mellowed her. Even she and Carliz had found a sweeter side to their relationship. “But you make a good king. Far more important, you’re an excellent husband to my daughter. She needs both.”
And much later that night, he crawled into bed with his queen, his wife, his love. He told her of his triumph, then pulled her close the way he did as often as possible, because there was nothing better than this.
The bright fire between them. The light that never went out.
The love that only grew with each passing day.
And at least once a season, they went to the September House, just the two of them, to make sure that they were still them . To get back to them if they’d drifted a little. To see the truth of who they were in each other’s eyes.
Some years, that took a minute. Some years, there were conversations to be had, misunderstandings to clear up.
But sooner or later, they ended up on that same rug before that same fire, watching the flames dance and flicker.
And they found their way back to the real beat of their hearts that felt like one heart shared, one kiss at a time.