Page 38 of Royal Love
I consider this, thinking about how to explain the shift I feel within myself. “I think I’ve realized something. These pictures…they’re part of our story. Part of our child’s history.”
My hand drifts to her stomach, and she places hers over mine.
“Someday, our son or daughter will look at these and see how much we loved each other. They’ll see that before they were born, we were just Tristan and Amelia, stealing moments together despite the crown.”
Lia’s eyes soften. “That’s a beautiful way to look at it.”
“I’m learning,” I say, surprised by the truth of it. “The man I was before would have seen only the invasion of privacy. But now…” I pause, looking again at the images of us together. “Now I see the preservation of memories I might otherwise forget in the daily chaos of ruling.”
She leans her head against my shoulder. “Your father would have a conniption if he heard you talking like this.”
I laugh, the mention of my father no longer stinging as it once did. “All the more reason to embrace it then.”
“Rebel,” she teases.
“Only for the right causes,” I reply, pressing a kiss to her temple.
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the palace waking up around us. Soon, we’ll be swept into the machinery of royal obligations—meetings, appearances, decisions that affect millions. But for now, in this quiet morning light, we’re just Tristan and Lia, expectant parents, marveling at how different life looks from the other side of love.
“We should frame one of these,” Lia suggests suddenly. “The one where we’re laughing. For the baby’s room.”
The thought of our child growing up with tangible evidence of our happiness before their arrival fills me with unexpected emotion.
“I’d like that,” I manage, my voice rougher than I intended.
She looks up at me, her eyes knowing. “You’re going to be an amazing father, Tristan.”
“God, I hope so,” I whisper, the weight of that responsibility settling on my shoulders alongside the crown. “I hope I can be everything this child needs.”
“You will be,” she says with such certainty that I almost believe her. “You’re already everything I need.”
I capture her lips with mine, pouring into the kiss all the words I can’t quite form—my gratitude, my fear, my overwhelming love for her and the life we’re building together.
When we part, she smiles that smile that still makes my heart stutter. “Now, Your Majesty, shall we face this day together?”
I stand, pulling her gently to her feet. “Together,” I agree, and for the first time in a long while, I’m not afraid of what tomorrow might bring.
Because whatever comes, we’ll face it side by side.
CHAPTER 23
AMELIA
The reflection staring back at me in the full-length mirror looks almost regal now. Six months into pregnancy, my body has transformed into something unfamiliar yet miraculous. My hands trace the pronounced curve of my belly, home to the future heir of Haldonia, while Shannon fusses with the hem of my emerald gown.
“You’re glowing, Your Majesty,” she says, standing to adjust the diamond pendant resting above my collarbone.
“It’s the hormones,” I reply with a smile. “Or the fact that I haven’t had a glass of wine in months.”
Shannon laughs, stepping back to assess her handiwork. The dress—custom-designed to accommodate my changing shape—cascades elegantly to the floor, the empire waistline accentuating rather than hiding my condition.
“The Children of Heroes gala is the most important event on your calendar this month,” she reminds me, handing me a small clutch. “The press will be particularly invested in your appearance tonight.”
“Because nothing says ‘support war orphans’ like obsessing over what a pregnant queen is wearing,” I quip, but withoutmalice. I’ve grown accustomed to the scrutiny, the constant evaluation of my appropriateness for the role that fate—and my heart—thrust upon me.
The door opens, and I don’t need to turn to know it’s Tristan. I feel his presence before I see him, that magnetic pull that’s been there since the beginning.
“My God,” he breathes, and our eyes meet in the mirror.
