Page 61 of Modern Romance June 2025 1-4

She should have kept it locked down and away, because arguing and making a scene drew attention to herself, and that had never ended well for her, but she hadn’t been able to control it. She’d expected him to retaliate in kind—because men like him always did. Except…

He hadn’t.

Instead, he’d apologised and taken her hand in his, asked her to tell him about her life.

She had no idea how to respond.

He’d let go of her now, and was standing back, putting distance between them, his back to the fireplace, silver eyes betraying nothing. But she could still feel the brush of his thumb scorching her skin. Why had he done that? Was it because he felt sorry for her?

She was tempted to ask him, but then decided she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want any sympathy—and definitely no pity. She’d ignore it, pretend it hadn’t happened. That seemed the safest route.

‘There isn’t much to tell,’ she said. ‘I was born here and grew up here. I was educated here too, along with my brothers. But… I wasn’t allowed to leave the palace. My father told me it was because he was concerned for my safety.’

Tiberius’s dark brows drew down. ‘Even when you were older?’

‘My brothers were allowed out, but not me. I was a…a girl. And I was to be protected.’

Except there had been no protection from the monsters within the palace walls. She’d had to protect herself, because there had been no one else. But she didn’t want to tell him that. He’d only pity her even more and she couldn’t bear it.

She didn’t know what he thought about her imprisonment. He gave no sign. His features were impassive.

‘And you truly didn’t know anything about what was happening in Kasimir while your father was in power?’

There was no accusation in his voice this time, only a note of puzzlement—as if he couldn’t quite conceive that she hadn’t known.

Well, he could believe what he liked. She knew the truth of her childhood.

‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘I didn’t. The only thing I was told was that Kasimir was returned to its former glory and that everyone loved the King. I wasn’t allowed electronic communications until I was eighteen, and even then my access to the web was tightly controlled.’

He was still frowning. ‘You must have heard rumours…’

Guinevere let out a breath, thinking about the whispers she’d overheard while hiding in the passageways. Whispers from the staff, from the guards, from guests. Whispers about the state of the economy and joblessness, about the statue that had gone up in one of the city’s central piazzas that had cost millions—money the country could ill afford to spend.

It had struck fear into her heart, listening to them, because it had sounded so awful. And because there had been nothing she could do to help. She was only one small mouse in the walls, whom everyone had forgotten.

‘I heard things,’ she admitted. ‘Once I tried to talk to my father about it, but he told me that it wasn’t my business and to stay out of it. So… There was nothing I could do.’ Tearing her gaze from the flat expression in Tiberius’s eyes, she glanced down at her hands yet again, acid collecting in her stomach. ‘So, I suppose you’re right, in a way. I was complicit in my father’s crimes.’

A silence fell over the room.

She could feel him looking at her—judging her, no doubt. And he had a right to. Her fatherhadalmost ruined Kasimir, while all she’d been worried about was her own safety. She wasn’t any better than he was. Because she too had fled and hid.

‘How did you know about the passageways?’ His tone was impossible to read. ‘My father used to tell me stories about them, but he said no one else knew about them.’

She didn’t want to tell him the truth—that she’d merely been a toy her brothers had used to hone their bullying skills on, and that instead of standing up to them she’d hidden in the walls. She could only imagine what he would think of that. He was tall and strong and powerful. He wouldn’t understand fear. He would think her a coward, just like her father, and he’d be right.

‘I discovered them when I was playing hide and seek with my brothers.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie…merely a variation of the truth. ‘The armoire in my mother’s rooms was locked, and I couldn’t get out, so I kicked open the back of it and found the opening behind.’

‘The lock is on the outside of the armoire doors,’ he said, his tone expressionless. ‘It would require someone to actually turn the key to lock you in.’

Guinevere swallowed and looked down at her hands, twisted in her lap. She didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want that icy silver gaze to judge her the way he judged her father.

‘I don’t know how that happened,’ she said carefully.

There was a silence.

‘I think you do.’ His voice was soft, but there was something hard and unyielding in his tone.

In spite of herself, Guinevere glanced up. The expression on his face now was frightening in its intensity, his silver eyes sharp as knives, and even though she knew that he likely wouldn’t hurt her, she couldn’t help her instinctive flinch.

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