She’s too young for me and too low in rank, but all she needs to do is say yes, and I’ll figure the rest out.
I’ll show her I can fix anything when I put my mind to it.
I turn back toward my car, walking quickly. When I get home, I head upstairs, taking them two steps at a time. Aubrey’s bedroom door is half ajar, and I push it open. She looks up at me in surprise.
“Oh, hello. Where have you been?”
Instead of answering, I go and sit at the edge of her bed.
“Daddy?”
My hands clamp to the mattress on either side of my body. I take a deep breath, every instinct telling me to get up and walk out, rather than relive even one second of the past.
“I met your mother when I was twenty-six,” I say, staring at the carpet. “We’d known of each other most of our lives, but we’d never talked.”
Aubrey sits up slowly. “She said you didn’t like to dance. In fact, you were terrible, and she had to teach you.”
My mouth quirks. I’d forgotten about that. “She was a good teacher. We barely knew each other when we were engaged, and we were married six months later. It was how things were done, then. In our circle, at least. The First Families. I didn’t have time to fall in love with her, but I thought we would. She was someone I could have grown to love.”
Aubrey seems to sense that this is difficult for me and doesn’t ask questions.
“I think she felt the same way about me. I hope she did, anyway.” I smile ruefully at my daughter. “I wish I’d known her better. During those first few years in prison, her visits kept me sane.”
My daughter smiles tentatively at me. She doesn’t need to know the next part of the story. Not now, and maybe not ever.
Moira bribed the guards so she could visit me. We’d been stripped of all our assets, and under the People’s Republic she lived in a dirty little apartment, but she’d managed to smuggle her jewelry out of Levanter House and hidden it. She broke it up and brought it, piece by piece, to the prison. A ruby bought us fifteen minutes alone together. A diamond, half an hour. Mostly, she would hold me and swore to find a way to get me released. The guards were rough with her, and I told her not to come, fearing they would really hurt her one day, but she wouldn’t listen.
When she became pregnant with Aubrey, I made her promise to leave. Made her. Shouted at her. Seized her arms. Told her she was selfish. Swore I wouldn’t speak to her if she came to the prison again. She couldn’t stay in Paravel where my child might end up behind bars, too. Moira left the prison, sobbing like her heart was broken, and I never saw her again.
I stroke Aubrey’s dark hair back from her face. “Moira got you both to safety, even though the borders were closed. She truly was one of the bravest people I know.”
Aubrey’s gazing at me with tears in her eyes. Moira can’t have told our daughter how I treated her. I hope that means she forgave me, before she died. “I wish it were a happier story.”
Aubrey touches the back of my hand. “I don’t need a fairy tale. I just need you.”
I pull my daughter against my chest and hold her tightly. “I’m sorry,” I whisper fiercely. “I’m sorry you’ve been so alone.”
She burrows into my chest and holds me back. “Daddy, I want us to be friends, okay? I want you to be happy. I feel like all you do is work.”
I tuck her under my chin and gaze at the far wall. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Aubrey is silent for a moment. “Why don’t we host a party? Something more casual than Court.”
“A party?” Wraye comes to my mind, the breeze ruffling her hair, her skin luminous in the sunshine. “We can do that. How about a garden party?”
“That would be lovely. The garden is looking beautiful again. If you’re sure you want to?”
“We used to have wonderful garden parties here when I was a boy.” I stand up and plant a kiss on top of her head, and then go downstairs.
I head out onto the terrace, gazing around at the garden and picturing it filled with guests. Seeing one guest, in particular, standing on the lawn in a delicate dress, smiling back at me.Chapter TwelveWraye“Daddy’s like a different person lately.”
I glance up at Aubrey from the daisy chain I’m making. My stomach swoops like it does every time I hear his name or read it in the papers. Or when Aubrey calls him Daddy.
Yes, Daddy.
I shift a little on the grass. Aubrey and I are sitting cross-legged in Royal Park, beneath the spreading branches of a horse chestnut tree. Tiny white-and-yellow daisies have turned their sunny faces up to the sky. The Archduke’s marriage proposal has been playing on a loop in my mind. The kiss that demanded I accept him. What the hell has gotten into him?