Page 65 of Crowned for His Son

The Great Unnerving—as he’d taken to calling the sensation inside him which had only intensified since his father’s wholly unsolicited counselling—surged higher. At this rate he’d be completely engulfed, would drown without knowing what exactly was killing him.

Really? You don’t know?

‘I spoke with her last night. You know she’s never met Max. And now, thanks to you, she’s able to host us.’

There was no sarcasm or rancour in her voice—and, yes, he wished his magnanimity wasn’t returning to bite him in the behind in the form of facilitating this separation.

‘And how will your sudden absence be explained?’ he rallied.

She shrugged. ‘Get the palace to spin something. They’ve done an exemplary job for the past few months, haven’t they?’

‘They may well have done—you seem to have them in the palm of your hand, after all. But even if I agree to you going, I’m not sure I want to be parted from Max.’

It was a purely selfish, rash means of ensuring she returned. Because for a blind minute he couldn’t cast off the notion that if he let them go he would never see them again.

Nowshe met his gaze—with fire and brimstone.

‘You think I’m going to leave my son behind? I will fight you to the ends of the earth before that happens. I dare you to try it!’

For the second time in his life he knew the meaning of blazing jealousy. Of feeling control slipping through his fingers. The other time had been when he’d seen her with Nick. When he’d assumed—falsely, as he was now accepting—that her interest in him was anything but platonic.

The wife and Queen he’d lived with these last months, had watched interact with his people—several of whom were falling over themselves to gain her friendship—even deal with his mother, had too much integrity to be putting on an act. She wore her true emotions on her sleeve.

Now he was jealous of his own son.

He clenched his teeth as shame whistled through him. The whole situation was shaming him, emphasising just how dependent he’d become on seeing her—seeingthem—at his table every morning and night. On knowing she was within reach, even if she’d taken to avoiding him more effectively in the last few days.

Even while he despised that uncontrollable dependency, he knew he needed it. More than he’d needed anything for a very long time.

Sí, it vastly contributed to that Great Unnerving.

‘How long do you propose to be away?’

The subject of her leaving without his son was closed. He couldn’t separate them any more than he could stop breathing.

Relief flashed across her beautiful eyes—and, yes, he despised that too.

‘Then do something about it.’

He pushed his father’s voice out of his head in time to offer the most selfless boon he could. ‘Two weeks,’ he said.

She frowned. ‘What?’

‘You have two weeks. I’ll find an explanation for your absence.’

She shook her head. ‘One month.’

His lungs flattened, suffocating him. ‘Absolutely out of the question.’

She glared at him, rose from her chair and turned away, her arms wrapped around herself. ‘Three weeks. And I’ll throw in some diplomatic work. I seem to know my way around that well enough by now.’

Ice filled his veins. ‘You really want to get away that badly?’

Her eyes shadowed, then she shrugged and looked away again. ‘I’m not ready to write off any relationship with my mother. I’m going, Azar.’

And, as much as it ravaged him, he hung his hopes on that integrity and let her go.

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