Page 46 of Royal Love
“What do you mean?” I ask, curious despite my fatigue.
“I may have added one more thing while you were busy with your mother before the shower.”
When we reach the nursery, he guides me inside and flips a switch I hadn’t noticed before. The ceiling transforms into a night sky, stars twinkling softly overhead.
“Oh, Tristan,” I breathe, tilting my head back to take in the constellations. “It’s beautiful.”
“I thought we could teach our little one about the stars,” he says, watching my face anxiously. “Do you like it?”
In answer, I pull him down for a kiss, pouring all my love and gratitude into it. When we part, both a little breathless, I whisper, “It’s perfect. Everything is perfect.”
And in this moment, despite the aches and uncertainties, despite the pressures of royal life and the challenges of impending parenthood, I mean it. Everything is perfect.
CHAPTER 26
TRISTAN
“Are you sure about this?” I ask Amelia for the third time as Parker pulls the car to a stop in front of an unremarkable community center. “We could have arranged for private lessons.”
Lia rolls her eyes at me, a gesture I’ve come to both love and dread. “We’ve been over this. I want our baby to have as normal a life as possible. That starts with us taking a regular Lamaze class like regular parents.”
“We’re not regular parents,” I point out, though I know it’s a losing battle. “I’m the King of Haldonia, and you’re?—”
“Currently very pregnant and not interested in arguing,” she cuts me off with a sweet smile that doesn’t fool me for a second. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”
Parker catches my eye in the rearview mirror, his expression carefully neutral but with a hint of amusement he can’t quite hide. “I’ve checked the building, sir. The instructor has been vetted, and there are two agents already inside posing as another expectant couple.”
“See?” Amelia says triumphantly. “Parker has it all under control. Now help me out of this car before I have to roll myself out.”
I exit and circle around to her side, offering my hand as she leverages her eight-month pregnant body from the vehicle. Even with her belly leading the way and her ankles slightly swollen, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. My queen in every sense of the word.
“You know the security protocol,” Parker reminds us as we head toward the entrance. “If I say the word ‘fireplace,’ we leave immediately. No questions, no goodbyes.”
“Yes, Parker,” we say in unison, the routine familiar after years of his protection.
The community center smells like floor cleaner and coffee. A hand-lettered sign directs us to “Lamaze with Linda—Room 3,” and we follow the arrow down a hallway lined with community announcements and children’s artwork.
“This is nice,” Amelia says, her hand firmly in mine. “Reminds me of where I used to volunteer before we met.”
I make a noncommittal sound, taking everything in with the heightened awareness I’ve developed since becoming king. Old habits from my military days resurface whenever I’m in an unfamiliar environment. Exits, potential threats, line of sight to Parker who trails a few steps behind us—I catalog it all automatically.
Room 3 is a large, airy space with yoga mats and pillows arranged in a circle. Five other couples are already there, chatting among themselves. When we enter, the conversation stops abruptly, followed by the widened eyes and sharp intakes of breath I’ve come to expect.
“Your Majesties.” A woman in her fifties with gray-streaked hair pulled into a bun approaches us, her composure admirable.“I’m Linda. Welcome to my class. I’m honored to have you join us.”
“Thank you for having us,” Amelia says warmly. “Please, I’m just Amelia here, and this is Tristan. We’re here to learn, just like everyone else.”
Linda’s smile grows more genuine. “Of course. Why don’t you find a spot and get comfortable? We’ll be starting in a few minutes once everyone arrives.”
We settle onto a mat near the edge of the circle, giving Parker a clear view of the door. I help Amelia arrange pillows behind her back, acutely aware of the stares and whispers from the other couples.
“They’ll get over it,” she murmurs to me, reading my discomfort as easily as she always does.
“It’s not too late to leave,” I offer half-heartedly.
She pats my knee. “Nice try. Now smile and look approachable.”
I make an effort to relax my face, which Amelia tells me can look intimidating when I’m thinking too hard. The couple nearest to us—a young man with a sleeve of tattoos and a woman with vibrant blue hair—exchange glances before the woman takes a deep breath and turns toward us.
