Page 33 of Breathtaking

I’ve curtseyed.

I’ve learned languages and customs.

Observed traditions.

Been told what to wear, what to eat, and how to style my hair.

I’ve been contracted to marry a man I loathe.

And I’ve followed every order down to each minute detail.

I know my place.

I’m the granddaughter of the king.

I was the daughter of the future queen before she died and have been the sister of the future king since the loss of my mother four years ago. There’s a weight far heavier than any tiara that comes with those titles. One it takes a lifetime to learn to balance. One I’m fairly certain is crushing me as I stare at my phone while we navigate the busy streets of Philadelphia.

Rhys

Where are you and why do you only have Maria with you?

Lennon...

My brother isn’t used to being ignored.

The entire world has kissed his royal ass since the day he was born.

The heir to the throne of Mornea and currently fifth in line to the throne of Elwyn.

His life was set for him the minute his heart beat in utero.

He’d never even taken his first breath, and his choices were nonexistent.

I rest my hand over my still-flat stomach and wonder if I can do that to my child.

God willing, Rhys will marry and have plenty of heirs himself. My child won’t ever be put in that position. And even if for some reason, he doesn’t, Atticus is still before me. But still. Every breath we’ve taken has been watched... curated for the benefit of the crown. It may be hard to believe, but I never thought about bringing a child into this life before now. Especially once I was informed I’d be marrying Monty.

My mother once told me having children would bring me joy, even if marrying Monty didn’t. She thought I’d find new meaning in life with my children. And I can clearly remember thinking I’d never have children with a man I didn’t love.

But as my driver pulls up in front of a gloriously old building—not old by Mornea standards but old by American standards—I realize I’ve refused to have children with one man who doesn’t love me, only to turn around and do so with another.

I’d love to know what I must have done in a previous life for this kind of sick karma.

“We’re here, ma’am.”

I meet the driver’s eyes through the rearview and nod. “Thank you. I just need a minute.”

I don’t tell him or Maria that the next few minutes could determine the rest of my life.

I’m sure Maria knows. But we haven’t discussed it. Not yet.

Some days, I’m positive she doesn’t even like me.

Today, I’m certain she’s disappointed at the very least.

But that’s okay because so am I.

We’re all fed a fairytale growing up, royal or not.

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