Page 26 of Pregnant at the Palace Altar

She had shown him empathy, and he had forgotten his imperative control. He would not again.

“It does not matter what you believe, Katerina,” he returned coldly. “It matters only what I say is fact—this will always be so. You may be the future queen, but my will supersedes yours.”

Her mouth firmed, anger flashing in her eyes, but when she spoke, it was with her usual calm assistant’s demeanor.

But she is your assistant no more.

“Even you cannot make your feelings facts, Diamandis. King, queen or commoner.”

“You are both soon-to-be queen and commoner, and what you feel does not signify.”

She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. All the warmth had drained out of her.

Because you wanted it to.

“Yes, you have made it quite clear that my feelings—that no one’s feelings—matter. Here, there or anywhere. What we need to clarify, however, is that while you might see the role of queen as simply to push out the children you don’t want, with no emotional connection whatsoever,Isee it as a responsibility. And that requiressomeunderstanding of what happened during the most fraught time in our kingdom’s history.”

“How easily it has becomeour,” he said, the seething anger he had to control forming something like a red haze in his vision. “You woulddarespeak tomeof responsibility?”

“Yes. I would,” she returned, as though his anger did not affect her in the least. “I know you fancy yourself the most responsible and important person in all the land, and better than everyone, but the fact of the matter is that the backbone of all that responsibility is your staff—of which I was once part. Of which I was once in charge.”

Even in his anger he could not argue with her. She had been that, and more. So he chose his best weapon and defense: detached disapproval.

“We do not have time for you to pick a fight, Katerina. We have meetings and things to accomplish so that tomorrow goes off without a hitch. If you’d like to throw a childish tantrum, perhaps you can wait until our honeymoon.”

“Oh, is there to be a honeymoon?” she returned acidly. “Even though I refuse to share your bed?”

“But of course. We must give the people the fairy tale they desire.” He smiled at her, and knew the small, petty feeling of having won was not conducive to achieving his goals; knew that his temper was causing him to be...antagonistic.

But she had poked at old wounds, and he only knew how to strike—hard and fast—to keep them from swallowing him whole.

Katerina blamed herself for the fact that this had devolved into an argument when she’d only been trying to reach him beneath his armor. She knew how to handle him better than this, and she shouldn’t have let Zandra’s words fool her into thinking otherwise. She had known he would use his cool demeanor as defense against the question. She had known this would not be an easy topic to broach.

She hadknown.

And still she’d dived in headfirst as though this were the first time she had been faced with the challenge of Diamandis and his trauma. Hands off. No entry. The end.

They could give the kingdom a fairy tale, but it would never be true.

Because although Katerina might create her own little fairy tales in her imagination, Zandra was wrong. Diamandis did not care for her feelings or for her at all. She was a vessel and no more. Perhaps because he’d once respected and appreciated her work, she could be some kind of pseudo assistant, too, but that was all. Trying for more was as futile as trying to escape him had been.

“We should not be late for our meeting.”

“No,” he agreed, but he did not move to open the door. Instead, he moved toward her again. She tried very hard to remain still. Tried to harden her heart against him. Because his temper might poke at her own, but she was always weak enough in the aftermath to feel sorry for him and how little he seemed capable of dealing with his many issues.

“I wished to speak to you alone so I could give you your engagement band. It is an oversight that Marias has insisted I rectify before the public questions it.” He pulled out a small box from his pocket, flipped open the lid and held it out to her.

She stared at the sparkling band. There were many encrusted jewels, but no large centerpiece as she might have expected a royal engagement ring to have. It also didn’t look like any of the royal jewelry she was familiar with. “This isn’t a piece I recognize.”

“No. This was my mother’s personal engagement band.”

Katerina sucked in a sharp breath. This was...unexpected. It was the antithesis to the fight they’d just had. But he took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. “It is what the people would expect,” he said flatly.

He did not look at her, and Katerina knew him well enough to know that though he might sound flat, stiff or detached, he was working hard to perfect his mask of emotionless indifference.

What the people would expect.

Katerina wasn’t sure she agreed with that. Thepeoplewould expect fancy royal jewels—and this ring was of course beautiful and elegant and royal, but it wasn’t one of the well-known pieces that centuries of royals had worn.

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