Page 62 of Modern Romance June 2025 1-4

‘What did they do to you?’ he asked, in the same unyielding tone. ‘And they definitely did something. I can see it in your eyes.’

There was no judgment in his face, but there was certainly anger, and she wondered why. What did he care what had happened to her? No one else had.

You should tell him the truth.

She didn’t want to, but it was clear he suspected what the truth was, and she had a feeling he wasn’t going to let her leave until he had it. And, really, what did his judgement matter anyway? Yes, he was her husband, but it wasn’t as if they loved each other—not when they’d only just met.

‘My father didn’t touch me,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. ‘But my brothers liked to…tease me.’

The hard glitter in Tiberius’s gaze didn’t falter, but a muscle leapt in the side of his strong jaw. ‘How? By locking you in the armoire?’

‘Yes,’ she admitted.

‘Were there other things they did?’

Her mouth was dry, but she forced herself to speak. ‘They liked to…chase me through the palace. And pull my hair. Sometimes, when I was much younger, they’d break my toys.’ The look on his face had changed, and now it frightened her. ‘It wasn’t anything too bad,’ she added quickly.

‘Did they hurt you?’

‘Please…’ she said without thinking. ‘Please, don’t be angry.’

His eyes widened for a moment, as if what she’d said had surprised him, before narrowing into glittering silver slits as he studied her. ‘I’m not angry with you, Guinevere,’ he said quietly. ‘I am angry with those who hurt you.’

Something inside her eased at that, and she realised she’d been sitting there tensely, as if waiting for him to explode in a furious rage, preparing to run from the room in fright.

He’s not going to do that, and you know it.

Perhaps she did know it. He seemed to be in a constant state of annoyance, and yet he did not throw anything or scream obscenities the way her father did, or say cruel things and laugh the way her brothers did.

He was contained, she thought. Self-possessed and impervious. And for some reason that made her feel safe.

‘They…did hurt me,’ she said in a rush—because he’d asked for the truth and she wanted to give it to him, especially since he’d already guessed. ‘That’s why I hid in the passageways. So they wouldn’t find me.’

Tiberius’s expression remained hard as stone. ‘They will pay for it,’ he said, pronouncing the words like a vow. ‘They will pay for what they did to this country and for what they did to you.’

Surprise rippled through her. ‘Why should you care about what they did to me?’

‘You are my queen, and as King it is my duty to protect you as I do all my subjects.’

She heard it then. The steel beneath his tone. He stood before the empty fireplace, muscular arms folded, a severe expression on his face and his light grey eyes glittering with intention. A strange kind of thrill went through her. She’d never had anyone state that they would protect her—not one single person. But, looking at his fierce expression, she believed him.

He absolutelywouldprotect her.

That made her feel warm, and immensely reassured, and for the first time in what felt like years her muscles relaxed. She let out a breath. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and she meant it, though she didn’t know what else to say—she didn’t want to keep talking about her brothers. ‘But you didn’t ask me here to talk to me about my life. You wanted to discuss our marriage.’

At that moment there was a knock on the door. Tiberius gave her one long, sharp glance, then turned to answer it.

A minute later the room was full of serving staff who unloaded food onto the huge wooden desk that was the only available flat surface in the room. They arranged it along with a bottle of wine from the palace cellars, and then left as discreetly as they’d come.

‘I’ve had dinner brought to us,’ Tiberius said. ‘The main dining room has yet to be cleaned and, given your feelings about the royal apartments, I thought you would prefer to eat here.’

Another little shock went through her. She hadn’t expected him to think about that. She hadn’t expected him to think about her feelings at all.

‘Thank you,’ she repeated, which appeared to be her standard response.

‘Eat.’ He gestured at the food. ‘You must be hungry.’

It was true—she was. She hadn’t bothered with lunch. She’d stayed in the safety of the little library, too out of sorts and uncomfortable with Tiberius’s intense electric presence to leave it.

---