CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Maximus
It was the beginning of the most important week of Maximus’s life.
At least, that’s what his father told him.
To Maximus, he could hardly imagine the annual festival in the village being so impactful.
The celebration was nothing new; he attended it every year.
He’d met Lilibet at this very festival. It was standard for the royals to make the pilgrimage to the village to interact with their subjects.
For Maximus, it had simply been another errand.
Little did he know that day last year would change the trajectory of his entire life.
He’d made his way to the village in a carriage, determined to get through the visit as quickly as possible.
He’d performed all the usual duties, talked to everyone he needed to talk to.
It wasn’t until he was about to leave that he saw her.
He hadn’t been able to look away, even when the footman was gesturing for him to return to the carriage.
He’d turned toward her, walking slowly, stopping only once he’d reached her.
She’d placed a flower in his lapel. “Meet me behind the church. Tonight.”
Maximus had never snuck out of the castle before. He did so for her.
Behind the church was a graveyard. They’d met there every night, talking at first, and then kissing, and then making love in the dew-soaked grass.
Maximus didn’t care that it was wildly against his father’s wishes.
He didn’t care that they were teenagers and reckless and had no idea what the future would bring.
All he knew was that he was madly in love with her, and she felt the same.
When they weren’t together, they wrote each other letters.
They left them on a particularly old grave, its wording worn off, its edges crumbling.
Sometimes they were love letters. Sometimes they were naughty.
Maximus couldn’t get enough of Lilibet. Her honeyed laugh, her gorgeous smile, the way she ran her fingers through his slicked-back hair, displacing it.
It was all intoxicating, and it was all his—until it wasn’t.
He thought back to that day—how Lilibet had been in labor for hours.
No part of the birth had been easy. Maximus could tell by the looks on the nurses’ faces that things were going badly and might end worse.
He’d been alternating between pacing the hallway and kneeling by Lilibet’s bedside, holding her hand and dabbing her face with a washcloth as she labored.
Most people in the village were no stranger to births, but for Maximus, this was the first one he had seen.
The fact that it was his own daughter only made it more of an anomaly for him.
And then things had taken a horrible turn.
Maximus knew something was wrong once the midwives started whispering. They cast glances in his direction, talking behind their hands.
“What is it?” he’d snapped. “Tell me.”
“She’s losing too much blood, Your Highness.”
“So fix it.”
“We’re trying.”
“Try harder.”
“You may have to choose.”
“Choose what?”
“Her or the baby.”
Such a choice was impossible to make. Maximus could not live without Lilibet. And he could not live without the baby.
But Lilibet’s choice had been clear. “You have to choose the baby, Maximus.”
“I can’t make that choice,” he whispered. “You have to live.”
“I will never forgive you if I live and our daughter dies.”
“You ask too much of me. You can’t expect me to—”
“Do as I say, Maximus,” Lilibet had cried.
Ice-cold fear pierced his chest. “Do not tell me what to do. I make my own decisions.”
“This is not your decision to make. Do not tell me what to do with my life.”
“It’s not just your life!” he’d cried. “It’s my life too. It’s our life. We’re supposed to do this together, Lilibet. Why can’t you fucking understand that? This isn’t about you.”
“Of course it’s about me. I’m the one having this baby. It’s my choice.”
Maximus had only shaken his head. It was inconceivable; he could not entertain it. She was not going to make him choose. It was an impossibility—a cruel test of strength that he already knew would break him. Maximus was not supposed to have to do this alone. He was supposed to do it with her.
“Save her,” Lilibet gasped. “Maximus. Please.”
Maximus had gritted his teeth and stared into her wild eyes, her pupils blown wide with adrenaline.
This was not how this was meant to go. None of this was happening the way it was supposed to.
They were supposed to be married first, then have children.
They were supposed to live long, happy lives together and make his father angry for many years to come.
But it was not to be. Lilibet continued to bleed. The midwives continued to whisper. And by the time Maximus was holding his daughter in his arms, there was no choice to make. Her mother was already dead.
“Do you have a name for her, Your Highness?”
Maximus said the only name on his tongue, the only name he ever wanted to say again. “Lilibet,” he whispered. “Lilly for short.”
From then on, time had ceased to function properly.
Maximus did not see Lilibet’s body moved from his bedroom.
He only saw her in a dingy room on the edge of the maze, where he was allowed a final moment with her before she was lowered in the ground in the family crypt.
Maximus had fought tooth and nail for her to be buried there.
His father had wanted her buried in the village, in the very graveyard where they’d used to meet.
That was unacceptable to Maximus. She belonged here, next to his own future grave.
Finally, his father had relented, perhaps because he knew Maximus would never forgive him if he didn’t.
There was no one he had loved more than Lilibet.
It had been an honor to be with her, to love her, to watch her belly grow with his child.
He still remembered the night he’d found out he was going to be a father—how his entire life had changed with just two breathless words: I’m late.
He’d been nothing but thrilled. They both were.
It didn’t matter that they were unmarried, that his father didn’t approve, that the competition for Maximus’s hand was supposed to occur when he turned twenty the very next year.
All that mattered was their future child.
The months had passed in a blur. Maximus had performed his duties.
He’d sat in on meetings, hosted parties, attended dinners.
None of it mattered to him; none of it was remotely of importance.
The whole world had gone dark. It felt as if the sun would never rise again.
Maximus spent his nights curled up in Lilly’s nursery, watching her like a hawk, sleeping on the floor next to her crib simply so he could hear her breathing.
Some part of him was paranoid that her mother would somehow drag his daughter away too.
Kora had taken Lilibet—why would she not take Lilly? Why not leave him with nothing?
It was difficult. But Lilly got him through it.
Every day he woke up to her beautiful shining face.
Every night he fell asleep to the same. Her mother lived on in her.
Maximus had expected it to be painful, to resent the child for taking her mother.
But somehow it felt like the opposite. Lilly felt like a gift from Lilibet, and Maximus treated her as such every day of her life.
He often wondered what Lilibet would have thought of her daughter.
They had the same curl to their hair, the same beautiful laugh.
She would have loved her just as much as Maximus did, of that he was sure.
Now, on the beginning of the supposed most important week of his life, Maximus could not help but think it would be no different than every other week of his life. This year’s festival could not possibly be more impactful than the one when he’d met Lilibet.
Then again, this year was different. This year he was on the cusp of becoming king, and the festival would culminate in the Passing of the Crown, where his father would symbolically pass the responsibility of ruling on to Maximus.
The actual exchange of power would occur when he was married—a fact Maximus had increasingly begun to worry about.
His arrangement with Daphne had been made with the understanding that she would save him from having to marry anyone. Now he was changing his mind.
It wasn’t that he was over Lilibet—he probably never would be—but he could not deny that he was developing feelings for Daphne.
It was a strange feeling to have another person in his heart, although not an entirely unpleasant one.
Thinking about Daphne felt like drinking champagne—light and sweet.
Full of possibility. In the beginning, he’d planned to use her as a shield against his father’s wishes.
Now he wanted something else. Why shouldn’t he choose her as his wife?
Why shouldn’t they get married? She’d told him herself that she was not already taken by someone else.
Even if she were, how could she resist the future king?
Most girls would kill to be the object of his affections. Surely Daphne felt the same.
Maximus spent the day in Lilly’s room, hiding from his father and playing with his daughter.
She was beginning to talk now, although not in words he understood.
Instead she cooed and giggled, making delighted noises whenever he picked her up or swung her around.
He spoke to her in return, assuming the words would permeate even if she couldn’t understand them.
He told her about Augustus, about the competition, about Daphne.
Lilly burbled through it all, oblivious to the problems of her father.
She would be a princess one day, and Maximus knew she would be a good one.
As the afternoon came to a close, a butler knocked on the door. “You are wanted in the foyer, Your Highness.”