Page 39 of Crowned for His Son

And when the oldest man in the room looked at her again, a layer of that formidable willpower had been replaced by something approaching approval.

He watched them, his eyes still pinned on Eden as Azar waited until she sat down, then sat himself, leaving one hand propped against Max’s back, where he was perched on the bed next to his grandfather.

‘You’re not afraid to express yourself. An admirable quality that will prove useful in the position you find yourself in, I think.’

The warmth around that loosened knot inside her expanded, pushing hard at her need to remain fortified against any misleading inclinations. The scars from her father’s rejection remained a real, horrifying reminder.

Hell, she was in this room only because she’d had Azar’s child. She didn’t doubt that Azar Domene might have sought her out as he’d promised the night of his party, to seek whatever passed as payback for her slights against him three years ago. But beyond that? To go as far as to put a ring on her finger? That was all for Max’s sake. And while that was a good thing for her baby, she needed to leave her emotions out of it.

‘…abdication and your coronation…must bring it forward even earlier.’

Shock reefed through her and her head jerked up. ‘I’m sorry…what? Even earlier?’ she blurted. She was cringingly aware she was breaking several protocols by not using the right form of address, but she couldn’t bring herself to backtrack.

King Alfonso’s gaze returned to her, then narrowed at his son. ‘Your intended doesn’t know?’

Again, Azar shrugged. ‘It’s only been two days, Papá, but yes, she knows. I didn’t think it prudent to bombard her with too much though.’

Her hands clenched in her lap. ‘Stop talking about me like I’m not here. You said the coronation was a matter of months away, and now it’s earlier? Explain what’s going on.’

Azar waited a beat. Then exhaled. ‘My father has decided to abdicate earlier than planned. I’m to take the throne in two months instead of three. One month after our wedding. And you, by ordination, will become my queen.’

* * *

And that was just the first of many left-field episodes that peppered the most dizzying weeks of her life.

Contrary to her expectations, she didn’t meet her future mother-in-law for another whole week. Azar’s mother cited one excuse after another until two Sundays after they’d arrived. And when the moment eventually arrived it was a frosty reception that couldn’t have made it more patently obvious that Queen Fabiana Domene believed her son was marrying far below his class.

To her credit, her dismissiveness didn’t stray into cruelty when it came to her grandson, which meant Eden didn’t need to unleash her mama bear claws. And Max was oblivious to the disparaging remarks during the Queen’s icy quizzing of just how Eden had happened to cross paths with her son, and the vapours of disdain that positively oozed from her pursed lips.

It was for the sake of her son that Eden withstood that seemingly interminable meeting. The moment it was over—the second she returned to her suite and saw Azar standing at the window in her living room, the epitome of regal composure, power and unruffled magnificence—everything she’d been holding inside for the last two hours frothed over like boiling milk.

‘How did the meeting with my mother—?’

‘Badly,’ she interrupted. ‘She doesn’t like me, and thinks you’re marrying far beneath you, but I don’t give a damn about that. She’s entitled to her opinion.’

His eyes narrowed, a film of tension weaving over him. ‘And yet something is bothering you?’

‘Yes! This is all going too fast.’ She dragged her fingers through hair that had been painstakingly styled and layered for her audience with the Queen, relieved that it was the only appointment on her schedule today. ‘We need to postpone. Everything.’

Azar’s eyes narrowed, then his tension thickened. ‘No. Absolutely not.’

‘Absolutely, yes. I’m—I’m not ready.’

He’d gone so still she wondered if he’d stopped breathing. And when he shoved his hands forcefully into his pockets she was almost certain she saw them trembling.

‘Look, the announcements haven’t gone out yet. And I’ve seen how the palace machinery works. It can come up with a good enough reason for moving the wedding.’

‘And my father? You want him to put off his abdication for your convenience?’ he bit out.

A twinge across her temple jostled her breathing, and the sensation that she’d felt this tic before sparked the usual frustration over her lost memories.

‘No, of course not. But maybe we can switch things around. Coronation first, then wedding…later.’

‘It’s the first time I’ve seen you in any way fazed,’ he rasped, and there was a faint, peculiar note in his voice. It sounded almostalarmed.

‘Trust me—it’s not the first time I’ve wanted to throw up. I’ve only held it together because it wouldn’t be a pretty sight.’

‘The thought of marrying me makes you feel ill?’ he growled, molten eyes lasering into her.

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