Page 53 of Royal Games (The Royals of Monterra)

“You sound really happy,” I said. I was so glad. If anyone deserved it, it was my aunt.

“I feel really happy.”

There was a knock at the front door, and I half expected and wanted it to be Rafe. But it was Marco. They were going to do a sweep of the farm. Either Marco or Gianni always checked in with us first to let us know what they were doing so we wouldn’t get scared. Or accidentally shoot one of them with Aunt Sylvia’s shotgun. Rafe had hired extra men since the postcard had arrived, and I didn’t know their names. I didn’t even know if they were Monterran or not. Aunt Sylvia offered them hot chocolate, but they told us that they’d brought their own beverages with them. He smiled and wished us a merry Christmas.

After I closed the door, Aunt Sylvia handed me a bulb that had my mother’s name on it and the year 1988. “This was her last ornament before she left home,” she said, just as she had every other year. I put it up at the very top. I would strangle that dog if he broke this one. Well, not really. But I would possibly imagine doing it.

I plugged in the Christmas lights and turned off the living room ones. Aunt Sylvia left on a single table lamp so that we could see while we strung the popcorn she had made. This was one of my favorite traditions, because it always was so beautiful and made me feel so calm and centered.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

“Anything, sweetheart.”

We’d never really talked about the cult or what had happened there, at my request. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk about my mom. I loved hearing stories about her when she was younger. Aunt Sylvia didn’t have many, as she was almost fifteen years older and had been off at college by the time my mom was three years old. My mother had been a surprise baby for my grandparents.

“Why didn’t she come with us?”

I didn’t have to clarify who or what I was talking about.

Aunt Sylvia put her popcorn chain down.

“Did she ... did she not want to stay with me?” It was a question I’d always been afraid to ask. It was easier to pretend or make up my own answer than face the truth. My voice cracked, my throat hot and thick with emotion and tears.

But I had come to a point in my life where the truth had become necessary. Good or bad, I needed to know. Not just about my mom, but about Rafe, too.

“Of course she did. But she knew that if she came with you, John-Paul would never give up. It was one thing to let you go. It was another for you both to leave. She stayed behind so that you could get away. She made me promise to always keep you safe. And I’ve done the best that I could.”

Relief, sharp and powerful, cut through me. My mother had loved me. She had made the ultimate sacrifice to keep me safe. I hugged my aunt, holding her close. “You’ve been the best mother I could have asked for.”

“And you have been the best daughter. You have made my life complete,” she said.

Now we were both crying, which ended up making both of us laugh. “Look at us,” Aunt Sylvia said. “I’m glad we’re the only ones here.”

“Me too,” I said, wiping tears from my cheeks.

She grabbed a box of tissues from the end table and offered me one. “Speaking of being alone, why don’t you go ask Rafe if he’d like to string popcorn with us.”

I groaned, laying my head against the back of the couch. “Why do you keep pushing this?”

“As long as we’re being honest, and despite what you might think, I’m not going to live forever.” She put the box back down.

“Yes, you are,” I interrupted as panic bloomed inside me. “I won’t let you die.”

She patted my hand. “I love you, too, but I want to know that you’re happy. I want you to have real love and a family, all the things I never got to have.”

“You can have real love. Maybe with Max. It’s never too late. And I’m your family.”

“You are. But I want more for you.” She pushed the needle through another piece of popcorn. Even when her hands were bothering her, she was somehow always able to do this at Christmas. “And I suppose I push Rafe because I’ve seen how happy he makes you.”

I crossed my arms, irritated at the implication. “I can be happy on my own. I don’t need a man.”

“Some people are very happy on their own. But speaking as the woman who raised you, I don’t think you will be. I know you. I got to see your relationship with Rafe in a way that you never will. You watch the show and all you see are the lies and the hurt. I watch it and I see the love. I see the romance. How his face lights up, even now, every time you walk in a room. I see how important you are to him. He is giving up everything just to be near you. He is disappointing his family, his nation, his staff, the charities he supports. Everything has been put aside for a chance with you. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach at her words. Because she didn’t lie to me. She never would. She didn’t have it in her.

Rafe had never said he loved me, but Aunt Sylvia was telling me she had witnessed it. And maybe I was so consumed by my perceived hurts and betrayals that I couldn’t see it. Or wouldn’t.

Maybe I’d never given him the chance to say it to me. I’d certainly never said it to him. My head started to throb, and I leaned my forehead against my hands.

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