She understood she was speaking to a future king now, not the charming prince who had lulled her with something that had resembled caring. Twice.
“Our marriage will be a private ceremony. Announced, but without fanfare. No formal photos. We’ll keep it brief.”
“The ceremony? Or the marriage?”
“Both.”
The tendons in her neck flexed as she fought a choke, doing her best to hide how deeply he was striking against her hard-won self-worth. “How brief?”
“We’ll divorce by the end of the year.”
Her teeth closed on the inside of her lip, biting down harder and harder until she had to consciously remind herself not to break the skin.
What had she expected after showing him her true colors? A declaration of love? A desire to live out his life with that? Well, she knew exactly how much duty he felt toward her, didn’t she? Not even four months’ worth.
“That’s quite the virgin birth you’re orchestrating.”
His eyes narrowed at her shaken tone. “Is this conversation going to bring on another attack?”
Oh, she hated above all things to be managed like she was too delicate for honesty.
“I do better when I know what’s coming.” Her voice only trembled a little, mostly from the effort to hide the burn of disgrace sizzling under her skin. “Is this room a time machine, by the way? I feel we’ve gone back to your 1700s and I’m something shameful you’re sweeping under the rug.”
“It isn’t about hiding you.” He showed the barest hint of discomfort by dropping his hands to the footboard and pushing to stand. “I’m acknowledging you and the heir you’re providing me, but it would be helpful if your role was downplayed, so as not to overshadow Patrizia’s.”
“You’re still engaged?”
“It’s been called off, since I’m marrying you, but—”
“She’s still willing to marry you?” The news pushed her into falling back a step. Maybe it was the realization that he still wanted that marriage himself. Why did that hurt? So much?
“Unless a better offer comes along, she is not averse to reviving our plan after you and I divorce.” He must have read the incredulity in her expression, because he said, “We’re friends. Both ruled by duty. The fact we don’t have strong feelings for each other and she’s not hurt by this—” again with the generic wave at her middle “—is the reason we’re a good fit.”
“But her child won’t be first in line! Or is she hoping mine’s a girl?”
“Gender isn’t an issue in Elazar. First born is first in line, but...” He seemed to debate whether she could handle his next words before he said, without emotion, “Until you deliver a healthy baby, many aspects of this situation remain fluid.”
Trella sucked in a gasp so sharp it went down the back of her throat like a spear, sticking in her heart and pinning her motionless. She tried telling herself the shivery clamp around her was anger, but it was anguish. Dark, blood-red betrayal.
“How dare you give someone hope that I’ll lose our baby.”
“It’s not hope.” He strode away from the foot of the bed in a sudden rush, making her jerk back another step and keep him in her line of sight. “It’s caution. You said this will be your only pregnancy. There is a reason for an heir and a spare. If my uncle had lived, this conversation wouldn’t even be happening. If my mother had done her duty, I would have other choices. I don’t. I will accept what comes of this pregnancy, but I have to ensure there are alternatives.”
She was so appalled that she wasn’t even sure what the cold feeling against her lips was. Her fingers? All of her felt cold and empty and deeply furious.
She barely tracked that his hand flicked the air. Through her own haze of emotion, she had a brief impression of bitterness before he turned his back on her.
Anything close to suffering on his part was imagined, though. Had to be. Everything she had shared with this man was imagination and faulty memory. A wish. Girlish daydreaming. A rescue fantasy.
He was a spoiled prince who had sullied a maiden and was tidying up that mess the most pragmatic way possible.
“This really is medieval times, isn’t it? Women have come all this way, yet I’m still just a vessel. A faulty one.” She knew she was broken. It shouldn’t surprise her that she was being rejected. She had thought she had prepared herself, but she hadn’t. She was gutted and had to fight with everything in her not to reveal how devastated she was.
So many times, she’d wished she could go back to that moment as an impetuous girl, when Gili’s math tutor had called out to her. She had run to tell him he had the wrong twin, that’s all. It had been one second of impulse and she was still being punished for it.