Page 78 of Modern Romance June 2025 1-4

Tiberius stood in frontof the fireplace, his arms folded across his chest, staring at his wife, who was staring back as she stood in a patch of late-afternoon sunlight looking as if she glowed from within.

She’d been remarkable today. Yes, she’d been nervous, but when she’d stepped out of the limo and had joined him on a walkabout with the crowd she’d been…amazing. Warm and open and approachable, radiating her beautiful smile.

He’d seen the signs of a few dissenters within the crowd, had heard them booing her. As he’d told her, they were only a small percentage, and even though he’d burned to do something incredibly inappropriate, such as punching them in the face, he’d controlled himself and ignored them instead.

He’d appreciated her sharing her worries with him, about how her presence might undermine what he was trying to do, but she needn’t be concerned.

While she might be an Accorsi, she was one who wasn’t known to the world’s press, and thus there was no gossip about her. No rumours. No hidden videos or toxicity that might rear its ugly head online at the worst possible time.

There was only her, beautiful in her yellow dress, her smile like the promise of summer on a cold winter day. She was honest and open, not a shred of darkness in her.

As his queen, she was perfect.

Really, he shouldn’t begrudge her this time she wanted for a discussion, since if she wanted to take an active part in ruling they would need to talk about it. But this mention of holidays…

What on earth was she talking about? Who could think of breaks or holidays when they had a country to run? A country where people had suffered and were suffering still?

A holiday implied personal whim, and Giancarlo had been very clear that kings did not indulge in personal whims. There was no rest for a king. Responsibility was a heavy weight that had to be endured.

‘I have been working for Kasimir since the day I was born,’ he said severely. ‘My mother died in the coup—you know this, yes?’

She nodded slowly. ‘I do know. I’m sorry that—’

‘It’s not your fault. She died before you were born. Renzo’s guards shot her as she was escaping with my father, and to save me he had to leave her behind.’

Her eyes darkened. ‘That’s awful.’

‘Your father didn’t offer her any medical help so she bled to death.’ He hadn’t meant for the words to sound so stark, especially when an expression that looked like pain crossed her features. But he didn’t take them back. That was what had happened—no more and certainly no less.

‘That must have been dreadful,’ she said softly.

He shrugged, ignoring the pain that sat inside him. ‘I don’t remember her, but certainly doing the best for Kasimir that I can is how I will make her and my father’s sacrifice worth it.’

She nodded slowly. ‘And then you went into exile with your father?’

‘Yes, we escaped into Italy. But I did not have a normal childhood. My responsibilities were made clear to me before I’d even started school.’

Her brow creased. ‘Did no one help you? Did no one…?’

‘What? Interfere politically with a tiny European nation? No, no one helped. And, no, my father didn’t take me on holiday anywhere. He was of the opinion that a king has no personal life. He is a servant of his people and they come before him every time.’

Her gaze flickered briefly at that, but all she said was, ‘So…what? You’ve been training to be a king all this time?’

‘Of course. Did you think I just strolled into the palace the day we met? No, my father and I had to find supporters, work to raise funds, and then get sympathisers from within Kasimir itself, because we didn’t want a civil war.’

‘So…you never had a chance just to be a boy?’

There was something soft in her eyes that felt dangerous, though he wasn’t sure why.

‘No. People were dying here. People were suffering. There was no time “just to be a boy”.’

She took a small step towards him. ‘When will it end, Tiberius? This concern? This frantic need to fix everything?’

What strange questions she was asking him. Questions she should know the answers to if she thought long enough about them.

‘It won’t ever end,’ he said. ‘People will always suffer and something will always be broken. The responsibility of a king is a burden without end.’

That soft expression on her face deepened, and it looked like concern. ‘But,’ she murmured, ‘is there any time in all of that for yourself? For joy? For happiness?’

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