Time #3
There. It was done. He had five months to assess the situation, deal with Raven Hara, and take steps to protect his child.
He’d have to bring Hara around somehow. Ardor folded his hands on the table, considering every angle and tool at his disposal until Leya returned, slightly out of breath, and quickly shut the door.
“Your Eminence,” she said. “Forgive me. I tried to explain the period of separation…”
Ardor’s heart simultaneously lifted and sank when a frantic knocking sounded on his door.
Of course, his consort wouldn’t be deterred by a mere letter.
The man had no decorum or self-control. Despite Ardor’s rightful annoyance, a small, selfish part of him was relieved.
If his consort had simply given up without a fight, it would have hurt his feelings.
It made no sense, but even a Pavarian couldn’t be ruled by logic all the time.
“Let him in,” Ardor said, rising.
The moment Leya cracked open the door, his consort pushed it open. “Ardor,” he said. His face was flushed, and he was panting. He’d actually run down the hall to Ardor’s apartment. It was yet another demonstration of why this man, this usurper, was wholly unfit for the office.
Despite this, Ardor’s heart stirred. This man ran as if his life depended on seeing Ardor again.
His besottment was unsettlingly strong. It would only make things difficult.
Why, then, did Ardor feel the queerest sense of pride?
He’d never, in his wildest dreams, expected to stir a consort’s passions like this.
This level of obsession was annoying at best, and dangerous at worst.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Ardor said, fighting to smother the strange, illogical feelings coalescing in his stomach.
“Please,” his consort said. “Don’t shut me out. After what we’ve shared—how could you do that? You tell me by letter? You know you can summon me anytime! Don’t I mean anything to you?”
Ardor swallowed. It was admittedly cold, but things had to be this way for both their sakes. “You are my consort. We are not a couple. Now that I’m pregnant, there is no reason for us to see each other.”
“You’re angry. Tell me what I’ve done wrong, and I’ll fix it.”
“You’ve put me in a difficult position, and you’re fully aware of that fact,” Ardor said evenly. “You need to leave.”
His consort frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. You know what I need to hear from you. Tell me the truth, so I can decide if I will ever be able to trust you.”
His consort swallowed and had the decency to look ashamed. They might be brothers, but he truly was nothing like Xandar. “Ardor, I’m doing my best. I would if I could.”
“Your best is not good enough, and I see I have my answer. Please leave. Now that I understand I have no guarantees, I need to plan for our child’s future.”
“Ardor, you’re safe with me. I swear to you. You and our children will always be—”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Ardor said sharply. “I told you I’m through with empty Kysanian words. You keep saying you’ll do anything I ask. How many times do I have to ask you to leave? Show me you can respect that much, at least.”
“Ardor, I…” Something passed over his consort’s face. A spark of recognition, as though he suddenly realized what he was doing. With obvious effort, he said, “I understand.” He drew a quick breath, evidently collecting himself, and left.
The moment Leya closed the door, the tension broke, and Ardor sank back into his chair. He despised confrontations, and the warmth swimming in his belly made this one even harder.
“Eminence,” Leya said, moving to his side. She was unsettled. Between their conversation in the library and the exchange she’d just witnessed, she understood what had happened. “For what it’s worth, I am loyal to you and your children above all else.”
He lifted his eyes. “Are you sure?”
She straightened up, squaring her shoulders. “I am. My path is unchanged. I am here to serve and protect you.”
He was torn between gratitude for her steadfast loyalty and a bittersweet longing. His whole life, his only confidences were guards and servants. He wanted more than that. But he was a Flower. Flowers didn’t have friends. Not really.
“Eminence,” she said, her brow lined with worry. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need a friend,” he said. He hadn’t meant to.
It wasn’t fair to put that burden on her.
But it was the truth. He was stressed out and worried and exhausted, and…
he needed a friend. But as he watched the battle play out across her face, he knew he was asking for too much.
Leya considered him divine, and the pedestal she’d placed him on was high. She did not consider herself worthy.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Conceiving was the hard part. Surely now, things will get easier.” His flower would stop producing pheromones if it hadn’t already. Soon, his consort’s intense interest would fade. He’d probably be embarrassed by it.
Surely, the strange tightness in his heart would pass, then.
Surely.