Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
TRISTAN
The words loop through my skull, foreign and impossible, like code that shouldn’t compile but somehow runs, nonetheless.
I love you too.
Lily said them to me so easily with a bright smile. She looks at me like I am someone worth loving, embracing who I am. The crazy obsession and all.
I can’t recall anyone ever saying those words to me. My mother might have when I was little. It’s not the same as Lily saying it. She said it with intention, not because it was expected.
My parents showed me brief expressions of warmth, mainly my mother, followed by long absences. That was chalked up as okay, because I had nannies to help handle the rest.
I know that Victor respected me and mentored me, but love was never part of our vocabulary. Before Lily, there had been no one else. No one caught my attention at school, work, or projects.
I never gave it much thought. Until her.
She has a way of making me need things I didn’t know I did. Like the sound of her laughter that comes easily. The way her energy can take over a space and she never lets anything keep her down for long. The impossible softness of how she says my name, like it means something to her, something good.
Now this love-demanding space in my chest where I kept nothing before is full. Parts I hadn’t known were hollow until she was there, filling them. Her mere existence is the gravity that keeps my whole world from spinning into utter darkness.
I make myself focus back on the encryption protocols, triple-checking every layer. It’s not about the tracking. They know where we are. It’s about no one getting their hands on the communications.
The secure line to Julian routes through seven jurisdictions, each one burning its trace after thirty seconds. No one will know we spoke until I want them to.
The screen lights blue, ready for me to initiate the call.
“It’s time,” I tell Lily, who is lying on a chaise with a book in her hand. She sits up, putting it down, and nods, remaining off-screen as she requested.
If he wants to speak, it makes me believe more that he doesn’t condone what his mother is up to. I know better than anyone; your parents are going to be who they want to be. That doesn’t mean that you have to be that way.
The video resolves, and Prince Julian of Grandeurs—late twenties, dark hair, and the same distinct cheekbones I studied in his father’s photographs—appears on my screen. He wears a button-up, rolled to his elbows, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days, but that wrinkled shirt has.
“Tristan,” he says. No title, no formality. I’m sure he’s done his digging on me as well.
“Julian.” I don’t relax my posture. “You’ve been looking for your sister.”
“I have. For years.” He leans forward, elbows on his desk. “I thought she’d be here.”
“Next time, perhaps.” Lily is here, and it takes everything in me not to glance toward her. She’s out of view, not sure if she wanted to meet him quite yet. I don’t blame her; everyone in that country has failed her.
He gives a nod of understanding. “I first learned of her existence one night when my mother was in a drunken rant after my father’s death; she’d accidentally brought Lily up.
I’d never heard a word about her before then.
She told me she died in infancy. A fire was the only real record I could find, but no burial site.
But my father kept a locked drawer I found after his death.
Letters to a woman named Elena, who I was able to find out was a maid at the palace long ago.
There were references to a child.” His jaw tightens.
“My father was a coward, and I’ve spent the years after his death cleaning up and fixing his mistakes.
I will not allow him or my mother to taint the name of Grandeurs.
This is not the Grandeurs way of things.
” He drops his head, taking a breath. “I want to make this right, not only for my country but also for Lily. My sister.” He says her name carefully.
“She’s alive. You’ve had her all this time.
” I can see the relief in his eyes. His concern seems genuine.
“I have her.” The words come out possessively and as a warning. “She’s safe. She’s mine.”
Julian’s eyes narrow. Then, unexpectedly, he laughs. “Christ. You’re in love with her.”
I don’t deny it, but I won’t go into that with him either. He might want to be an ally, but I don’t know him. Maybe one day if that’s what Lily wants.
Instead, I cut to the chase, wanting some kind of information. “Your mother?”
His laughter dies. “She’s been hunting Lily again. I’m not sure how she found out she was actually alive.” I watch his expression change, and I can see the anger and grief all jammed together. “I believe she might have killed my father too.”
“Your father was murdered?” That thought had crossed my mind.
In my research and what I could find on Queen Amelia, she appears to be slowly getting crazier and crazier.
You can see that by looking up the news in their country.
They don’t outwardly say it, but you can see the progression as you lay it all out.
“Officially, they said it was heart failure.” The go-to story, it seems. Julian’s voice goes flat.
“Unofficially, I found the toxicology reports she had hidden. My mother has been cleaning house for years, and now she’s gone quiet.
I sent her to stay in the family estate down south, but she disappeared three days ago.
No explanation.” He meets my eyes through the screen.
“I believe she sensed a shift in me towards her, and now she’s running out of time. ”
Protectiveness surges, animalistic and immediate. If the queen’s in the wind, she’s desperate. Desperate people make mistakes, but they also make corpses.
“I would like it if together we could take her down. If she has gone stateside, I worry this will turn into a conflict,” Julian says.
“Help me find her before she finds Lily. My sister deserves to live her life without this looming over her. She was an innocent child that my own father did not properly protect; instead, he protected my mother and his own selfishness. I will not be him, and I will not allow history to repeat itself. But more than that—my mother needs to answer for what she’s done. ”
I agree before I can second-guess it. “We’ll coordinate. But Lily stays protected. No meetings, no public exposure, not until the queen is contained.”
“Understood.” Julian’s shoulders drop, relief visible. “Thank you. For keeping her safe.”
I end the call before I have to respond to that. I don’t need to be thanked for protecting Lily. There is nothing in this world I want to do more.
The screen goes dark. I sit there for a moment, processing that Julian is an ally. The queen is missing, which means she’s desperate.
I turn to find Lily still on the chaise, hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes are wide, processing all that was said.
“He seems nice,” she says finally.
“Lily.” I cross to her and crouch in front of the chaise. “Talk to me.”
“All of it,” she laughs, but it sounds brittle. “I have a brother. He’s been looking for me. His mother killed my father. Or his father. Our father. Then my other father, likely.” She shakes her head. “This is insane.”
I take her hands. They’re cold. “We’ll handle it together. I won’t let anyone hurt you...”
She looks at me then, really looks, and something in her expression shifts. Softens. “You’d never let anyone take me from you. You’re my obsessed stalker who is in love with me.”
“Hopelessly,” I say without hesitation. I will not hide what she means to me. I did that for long enough. It’s the only regret I have when it comes to her. That I didn’t act sooner.
Lily leans forward and presses her forehead to mine. “Then show me.”
It’s not a question. It’s a request, simple and direct, and it undoes something in me. I kiss her slowly this time, deliberately, tasting the fear and relief and want all mixed together.
This is my Lily. As crazy as everything is, she’s not going to let it slow her down.
I pull back just enough to look at her, searching her face.
She just learned that her brother exists, that his mother killed her father, and that a queen wants her dead, and still Lily is reaching for me like I’m the only thing that matters.
Like the world can burn all around us as long as we’re touching.
She’s always been like this. Resilient. Passionate. Taking what she wants without apology. It hits me like a physical blow. I don’t deserve her, but I’m lucky as hell she chose me.
“You’re incredible, you know that?” I say, and it sounds inadequate.
She smiles, wicked and warm. “I know.”
I don’t make it to a bed. I can’t. My Lily is everywhere, her hands under my shirt and her mouth on my neck, and I lift her onto the chaise, shoving the book and blanket to the floor.
She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me between her thighs, and I feel her heat even through the layers still separating us.
“Need you,” I growl against her mouth. “Need you now.”
“Then take me.” She arches, offering her throat, and I bite down where her pulse flutters, marking her. It’s barbaric, but I need to see my mark on her perfect skin. It soothes something deep inside of me.
I strip her desperately. Her shirt is tangled around her arms, her bra shoved up, and her pants dragged down just enough.
I don’t have patience for slow, for careful, or for anything but the heat of her surrounding me, and Lily loves to be fucked.
She wants to feel it even when it’s over, and I’m more than happy to oblige my greedy girl.
How can I not when that greed is over me?
I push inside her, and we both groan. She’s tight and wet and perfect, and I have to stop, forehead pressed to hers, breathing hard against the urge to pound into her until neither of us remembers our names. I don’t want to come too soon. I want to savor this.
“Move,” she demands, nails digging into my back. “Tristan, move,” she orders.
So much for trying to hold back. I let go and give my girl what she asked for.
There’s no way I can or ever will deny her.
I set a brutal pace, the chaise creaking beneath us as she meets every thrust, wild and demanding, her heels against my thighs.
She comes apart fast, clenching around me, crying out my name like a prayer or a curse, likely both, and I follow her over the edge, burying my face in her neck, breathing her in, anchoring myself to her.
Thanking my lucky stars that this is my reality. That she is mine now and forever.
Afterward, when we’re tangled and breathing hard on the too-small chaise, she traces patterns on my chest. “I meant it,” she whispers. “What I said. I love you. I always have.”
I catch her hand and press a kiss to her palm. “I know. I love you too. I’ve never—” I stop, the words catching. “I’ve never had this. Never thought I could.”
“Now you do.” She curls closer, fitting herself against me despite the awkward angle. “We do.”
I hold her until she falls asleep, then longer, watching the shadows shift across the ceiling, planning my next move to keep her safe.
The queen is coming, and I’ll do a whole lot more than chop off her fucking head.