Page 6 of Royal Love
The applause that follows is thunderous, an overwhelming response that swells my heart with pride and gratitude. I step back from the microphone, letting their energy wash over me, a reminder of why I lead, why I speak.
One voice, a young woman, calls out from the crowd, “We believe in you, Amelia!”
Others echo her sentiment, a chant of support rising up like a clarion call.
As I step down from the stage, Shannon is there, offering a supportive smile. “You did great,” she says, her voice laced with genuine warmth.
I nod, the weight of the moment still settling on my shoulders. “Thank you,” I whisper, knowing that today was just one of many battles for the soul of our nation.
The protesters still linger at the edges, holding their signs, their expressions less confrontational now. I walk toward them, feeling an impulse to reach out, to extend that olive branch.
“Thank you for being here,” I say, meeting their eyes, allowing myself to be vulnerable, open. “Your voices are important—let’s use them to build something beautiful.”
A few of them nod, and I see a flicker of understanding pass between us. It’s a start.
I turn back to the crowd, seeing faces alight with newfound hope. For a moment, I close my eyes, capturing this feeling of unity, of purpose.
This is not just a speech, it’s a promise. A promise I intend to keep, with every beat of my heart and every breath in my body. Together, we will shape the future. Together, we are unstoppable.
CHAPTER 7
TRISTAN
I am so fucking proud of my wife. Watching the live stream is a test of patience. There’s nothing I want more than to go to her as I see the protesters have shown up, but this is her time to shine. Just like it was she who brought everyone together during the war.
“She and Shannon look like they have this,” Parker notes as he sits next to me.
“They’re composed. Much more than I have been lately.”
Parker chuckles. “The thing most people don’t talk about is coming back from war. They always say how happy they are to be home, how nice it is to not be out on the battlefield anymore, but they don’t talk about the hard shit.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You know I come from a military background. I’ve been in situations like what we were in previously. Coming home was always a bit of a mindfuck. On one hand, you’re so excited not to be on the edge anymore. You’re grateful to be eating great food, sleeping in a real bed, and not having to watch your back. At the same time, you’re trying to come to grips with what you did out there. Is that where you are?”
Licking my lips, I nod. “Yeah. I’m having nightmares about some of the shit we saw, but I’m also feeling fucking guilty. Why should we have survived and others not? What was the difference between us and them? Why am I considered better? There were men and women standing with us who had kids and families at home, and they’re never going to see those loved ones again. How do I deal with that?”
“The best way you can. There’s no guidebook, Tristan. You’re the face and heart of this country. People will be looking to you to see how they handle life as it begins again. If you aren’t sure you can handle it, you might want to admit that to yourself and be honest with the people.” He runs a hand across his jaw, sighing heavily. “If you don’t feel it, they’re going to see it, and they may be worried that we’re in a similar situation again. Believe it or not, I think you’ll do more being honest than you will putting on a brave face.”
I think about what Parker has said. “You’re right about that, but you’re wrong about something else.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“I might be the face of this country, but Lia’s the fucking heart of it. They’ll go to battle for her in ways they never even thought of for me.”
A lesser man might think worse of their wife for having such a strong hold on his country, but I know how lucky I am. My mother was loved by the people, and all I’ve ever wanted is for those same people to love my wife just as much.
The livestream ends, and the room feels quieter, somehow smaller without her presence streaming in on the screen. I sink back into the couch, Parker’s words lingering like remnants of the war we fucking fought.
Amelia has a way of making everyone around her feel seen—like each person she interacts with somehow becomes the most important person in the room. Watching her calm the protesterswith grace and power only reaffirms what I constantly tell myself. I am the luckiest man alive. We were blessed to have the arranged marriage we do.
An hour later, the door creaks open, and I turn instinctively. Amelia steps inside, still wearing the fitted navy dress she chose for today’s event. It’s tighter around her breasts than it was the last time she wore it, reminding me that she carries our child. Her hair is pulled back, with just a few tendrils framing her face. She pauses, takes a deep breath, and lets the door close softly behind her.
I stand, the urge to hold her overwhelming. There were so many times I wanted my arms around her when it wasn’t physically capable of happening. I promised myself back then I would do it any time I wanted to moving forward. Crossing the room, I pull her into my embrace, breathing in her familiar scent. “You were brilliant,” I whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.
Amelia leans into me for just a moment, allowing her body to relax, before pulling back and meeting my gaze. “It was intense, but we managed.” Her eyes are filled with a mix of relief and determination.
“I’m so proud of you,” I tell her, brushing my thumb across her cheek, before dropping a kiss there. It’s slightly awkward, as we haven’t found our groove yet, from being apart. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
She arches a brow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Oh? And here I thought I was just the queen.”
“You’re more than just the queen.” I bend down so that our foreheads meet. “The way you handled today, Amelia…it wassexy as hell.” I can’t help but grin, the playful admiration in my words genuine. One of the first times I’ve felt like smiling since all of this started.
