Chapter 45
Chapter
Forty-Five
ARA
The king is dead. While Tate had still been gone, the news had made the rounds, and I dread what that means for me, for us.
Frederick can’t just change the promise , I remind myself, but still, there is a tension in the air, a foreboding I can’t quite ignore. Frederick is king now, or will be after the ceremony tomorrow. I suppress a shudder when I think back to his words at the ball.
You don’t tell a king no.
Jared and I took the time to answer all the questions raised by the messenger's appearance. At least Joel and the girls had already known, but the rest of Tate’s flight had been stunned by the news. Understandably so.
Tate comes back late at night, but I’m waiting in his room for him. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. He looks tense, troubled, and defeated when he steps through the door. But the tired smile he sends me makes me breathe easier, and I’m by his side in an instant.
“Are you alright?” I whisper, helping him out of a formal coat I never saw on him. I’m even more relieved when he lets me help him. The memory of how he had pushed me away the last time he had been hurting had had my stomach in cramps for the past hours.
“I guess I am… Yeah…” He swallows, then shakes his head.
“No, I’m not,” he corrects himself. “I should be.
My father's and my relationship was … strained is not even close. No matter what I did, it was never good enough. I always disappointed him.” He lets out a long breath, then chuckles humourlessly.
“Damn, the bastard is dead, and I should rejoice, but…” He shrugs.
“When I talked to Fred weeks ago, he said Father made him feel inferior by comparing him to me.” He pauses.
“Why couldn't he have said any of that to me?
Anything. Literally. Any halfhearted, ‘you didn't do too bad, son’ would have been great.” He shakes his head.
“He will never know the reason for my decisions. Fuck.” He grips his hair. “I was his biggest disappointment. The last time I saw him, we barely spoke ten words. I’ll never be able to explain.” He laughs again, mockingly.
“Not that it would have made a difference. But… Maybe I should go and shout at his sarcophagus.” He shakes his head and exhales through his nose.
“So in short, I'm a fucking mess at a time when I should be concentrating. There are people after me. After you. The trials. My brother plans only the gods know what. And here I am, falling apart because my father didn't … pat my back?” He shakes his head. “Fuck, that’s pathetic.”
I step up to him, grabbing his face with both hands.
“Now, you listen to me.” I look into his eyes.
“You’re an amazing man. You’re perfect the way you are.
And if your father couldn't see that, that’s on him.
He’s the one who missed out.” I place a soft kiss on his lips.
“If he is the reason you are always so hard on yourself, then rotting in a crypt somewhere is too good for him.
I'm sorry you're hurting, and I wish you’d had the chance to make things right with him.” I search his eyes to make sure he understands me.
“Not for him. I don't give a rat's ass about him.
But for you. And it's alright to still mourn his death.
He was your father. And I guess on some level, you can't help but love him, even if he was an asshole.”
That makes him release a breath that almost sounds like a laugh.
“Just because he was a cold-hearted bastard doesn't mean you have to be cold too. I see you. And I wouldn't change a thing. Not even your annoying habit of showing up when I'm in trouble and saving my ass whether or not I want you to.”
His lips quirk.
“Now let me spoil, pamper, and distract you. And tomorrow, we will tackle all the other problems. Okay?”
“Pamper?” He arches an eyebrow at me.
“Yeah.” I grin at him. “Something tells me that for a pampered prince, you got little of that.”
He chuckles, and my world lights up again.
“And what would you know about being pampered, my warrior princess?” he teases.
“A lot.” I grin at him. “Because even if I fought it sometimes, I grew up pretty pampered. You might have noticed I have a way to wrap everyone around my finger and get exactly what I want.”
“Do tell.” He chuckles again and wraps his arms around me.
I grin up at him, and he places a kiss on my brow.
“You are pretty amazing, and I'm a lucky guy.”
“Yes, you are.”
“And so very humble,” he deadpans, then grins.
“Who wants to be perfect?” I ask. “That would be incredibly boring. Don't you think?”
I'm content to see the light back in his eyes.
“You know you’re going to be stuck with me, right?” he asks me softly. I turn to him, rising to meet his lips, while something in my chest twists.
“And there's no place I'd rather be,” I tell him between kisses, giving him the only truth I can, while I try to convince myself that I can enjoy the stolen moments as long as they last and that they are better than nothing.