The solution had dawned on him early this morning—after another long, sleepless, heart-searching night.
Now, as she slowly made her approach towards him in front of millions again, he realised she’d retreated further behind her walls than ever before.
Her ball gown was of epic proportions—it was the colour of the ocean surrounding the islands while the scarlet regal sash crossed her breast. This time her hair was swept up high. Long silk gloves hid, not just her fingers, but her wrists, right to her elbows. It was impenetrable armour.
But while her face was beautifully made up, he saw through to the emotion-ravaged pallor beneath. He saw the tearful torment in her eyes for that snippet of a second before she looked to the floor again. She was so formal. So correct. So dutiful. And he hated it.
He’d hurt her too badly and the knowledge gutted him. He curled his hands into fists, barely containing the self-directed anger building within him. Barely restraining his urge to run to her and haul her into his arms and beg her forgiveness.
He had to do this properly.
He didn’t want her to kneel in front of him. He wanted her to stand beside him. He needed her beside him. She strengthened him and he hoped he could strengthen her.
For so long she’d been able to hide behind those walls. Self-contained and in control, masking her emotions, trying to bury everything so deeply so nothing and no one could hurt her. But he knew her walls were built with the thinnest of glass now and with one false move of his, they’d shatter. He didn’t want to do that to her. Not here, not now. He’d hurt her too much already. He’d never seen anyone as brittle and as fragile. Or as determined.
So while he was filled with pain for hurting her, he was also consumed with pride and awe. Because she walked towards him smoothly, hidden courage lifting every step. She was loyal and considerate and frankly loving, even when he didn’t deserve it.
He was determined to deserve it. And he was determined to show her how much she mattered.
* * *
Hester couldn’t hold Alek’s gaze. He looked so stern it scalded her heart. The last thing she wanted was to walk towards him in front of the world. This packed room was enough, but this was being broadcast again to millions over the Internet. But she had to lead the way for the rest of the citizens in his kingdom. Tradition dictated she display deference before him. Before all of them.
Her blood burned as she kept her eyes on the floor. Slowly she walked to the edge of the dais on which he stood in his cloak and crown. She couldn’t look at him even then. The media would probably interpret her body language as submission and that was fine by her. Because she didn’t want anyone to guess that it was pure pain and hopeless love.
Slowly she knelt before him. There was a moment of complete silence, then she heard movement as all those people behind her lowered to their knees as well.
She couldn’t bear to look at him. It was all just a pretence anyway—just the part she’d promised to play. She’d grit her teeth through the final act and in a year’s time she’d leave and, fingers crossed, never see him again.
‘Hester.’
His soft call was a command she had to obey. Looking up, she saw he’d moved closer, right to the edge of the dais. But his solemn stare still left welts on her heart.
‘I will not let you kneel before me.’ His harsh whisper rasped against her flayed skin, stinging like salt rubbed across raw cuts.
She stared at him blankly.
He bent and took her hand and tugged, but she frowned and didn’t move. With an impatient grunt he put his hands on her waist and physically lifted her to her feet, pressing her against him for the merest moment.
‘What—?’
‘Not long and we’ll be alone, Hester. Trust me until then, okay?’
It was the quickest whisper in her ear so that no camera could capture the movement of his lips and no distant microphone could amplify the secret speech.
Why was he insisting she stand? Why he was going so far off-script of this massive pantomime they’d been preparing for?
Murmurs rippled across the crowd behind her. The courtiers and guests had remained kneeling, but they were looking up. Alek had stepped to the side briefly but now turned. She saw he held a crown in his hands—a smaller one than his but no less ornate.
He met her gaze for only a moment before looking beyond her to his wide-eyed citizens.
‘Allow me a moment to explain,’ Alek said. ‘I am proud of Triscari’s traditions and I will honour them but I also look forward to building new ones.’ His face was ashen and his smile so faint. ‘I do not wish for my most important partner to bow before me.’
Another murmur rippled across the crowd, but Alek kept talking and they silenced.
‘It is a bittersweet time, this coronation, because it only happens because we have lost my father and he was a great king. He was devoted to our country and you, his people. But he was also a lonely man after my mother died. As my sister is, my mother was intelligent, progressive and loving. Losing her was very difficult for us as a family. We do not speak of her enough. I will confess, I thought the requirement for the monarch to be married was archaic—that it was a constraint and a form
