Page 4 of Royal Love
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his deep voice reverberating off the sides of the hallway.
At one point right after we’d first gotten married, these hallways were full of people, voices, and laughter. That changed the moment the building was rocked by enemy fire. If I close my eyes, I can still remember what it felt like that day. The fear, the uncertainty, the way I’d reached for Tristan’s hand, and he’d been right there. Although I had been scared, I hadn’t been worried. Somehow, I’d known that Tristan would protect me, even when he should’ve protected himself first.
“I’m good,” I answer. “So far not a whole lot of nausea and no getting sick.” I give him a small smile.
He answers with one of his own. It’s been so long since I’ve seen one spread across his face and overtake his eyes, that I reach out and grasp it with my fingers, holding it close to my heart.
“Would you tell me if you have been feeling sick? I haven’t been a supportive partner lately, and I’m sorry.”
Rolling my lips together, I end by pulling the bottom one in between my teeth. The nerves in my stomach dance as I contemplate what I want to say. There’s a lot of pressure. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I say the right thing? There’s no guarantee Tristan will take either of the things I’m trying to sayas good or bad. Since he came back from the battlefield, he takes things differently than he used to. I don’t know this man nearly as well as I knew the man before he left. “You haven’t beennotsupportive. It’s hard for both of us.”
A frustrated sigh escapes his chest. “I’m trying to figure out why it’s been so hard. We won, our country is recovering, and we’re continuing the line of succession. Everything here should be good. We should be happy.”
Grabbing his hand, I pull him to the left, through a hallway, into a room. It’s the room where we first met each other on my first night at the castle. When we step in and close the door, it’s as if we’ve been transported right back there. I’m taken back to the same unsure woman I was, but I don’t let the uncertainty overtake me. Instead, I go to the couch and motion for him to sit down. When he does, I stand in front of him and tilt my head to the side. “You know what you need? A drink. One like you poured us the first night we were here.”
He nods, agreeing.
It’s been a while since I’ve been able to take care of him. Walking over to the bar on unsteady heels, I take a moment to center myself. It’s surreal to be back here, with my husband, carrying our child, after everything we’ve been through. Taking a deep breath through my nose and then out my mouth, I prepare his drink before turning and walking back over to him.
“Here ya go.”
“Thank you.”
Immediately, he takes a drink, and I have a seat across from him. Licking my lips, I start. “You said something back there. We should be happy. I am, are you?”
“It’s not that I’m not happy,” he starts. “It’s that I can’t get over what I did out there on the battlefield in the name of my country.” His voice is so low, I almost can’t hear him.
“Why don’t you tell me about some of it? Let me help you with what you are dealing with.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m just not sure I can.”
CHAPTER 5
TRISTAN
I squeeze her hand, feeling the warmth seep into my skin. It’s cold with the realization of everything I’ve done. “Lia, it’s not you. It’s me.” The words sound cliché, even to my own ears, but they’re true. How do I make her understand the weight I carry? The guilt I’m assaulted with every time I allow myself to think about what I’ve done?
Her eyes soften, and she shifts closer, her presence a balm to my racing heart. “Tristan, you don’t have to ask for forgiveness.”
I flinch, her words slicing through my defenses. Voice hoarse, I continue. “But I do, Lia. For so much.”
She shakes her head, firm yet gentle. Those eyes of hers are soft and hard at the same time. “No, you don’t. What you did was about survival. It wasn’t about right or wrong in the way we normally think of it. You did the most important thing of all—you survived.”
The breath catches in my throat, and suddenly the air feels heavier than it has before. “Survived,” I spit the word out, hating the taste of it.
“Yes,” she insists. “And surviving sometimes means making impossible choices. Choices that none of us can fully understand unless we’ve been there.”
“But I took lives, Lia,” I confess, the admission a stone dropping into a still pond. Those ripples are sure to bother others, and I’m scared to death about when I’m called to answer for my transgressions.
Her grip on my hand tightens. “And it wasn’t without a cost to you. I see that. But you need to understand something, Tristan. Sometimes, the act of surviving is the bravest thing of all.”
I blink, trying to absorb her words. Could surviving really be an act of bravery, rather than a stain on my soul? It’s not like my soul has been pristine. I’ve done shit that others shouldn’t forgive. I’ve been so focused on my own failures that I haven’t considered the possibility.
Amelia lifts my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze with her soft fingers. “I carried my own burdens, Tristan. Public appearances, speeches, playing the part. None of it came naturally to me, but I learned. It was necessary. You’re going to have to learn.”
I nod slowly, the pieces beginning to fit together in my mind. Her battles were fought in the public eye, mine in the shadows. Different situations, same war.
“It still feels like I failed,” I whisper, the truth clawing its way out of my hoarse throat.
