Royal Order (Royals of Danovar 3)

She sat on a couch and motioned at him, still grinning. She had a sort of glow to her this morning. It was wonderful to see her so happy, but in this attitude she had to be so unprepared for what he was about to tell her. How could he break it to her gently?

While he was searching for words, she leaned forward and spoke first. “I actually wanted to speak to you too.”

He exhaled. Maybe whatever she had to say would give him enough time or an opening to let her down gently. “Okay, you first.”

She looked down and twisted her ring, but only once before she met him eye-to-eye again, her smile widening. “Simon, I’m pregnant.”

The words hit him and bounced off. He blinked at her while he called them back, tried to comprehend them. She couldn’t be pregnant. A week ago it would’ve been amazing news, but now it was impossible. So he said the first thing he could think of, the only thing that had been on his mind for the last hour. “Nathaniel’s been found. The heir is legitimate.”

Her smile dissipated. At first he thought it was because she realized the weight of his words and why her news had hit him so hard, but then he recognized the spark of fire in her expression. She was furious.

She leaned away. “I tell you I’m pregnant, and that’s your first response?”

He spread his hands, helpless. “Penelope…” Couldn’t she see how mixed-up everything was? If he was going to be a father, the child would be homeless, title-less. How would he provide for it? Where would they go? What kind of unfulfilling, purposeless life would he be stuck leading because of all of today’s developments?

He wanted to hit himself the second he thought it. His child was not a development, and regardless of what kind of life he’d be living now, he wanted nothing more than to live it with his and Pen’s baby in his arms. He was just so shell-shocked—everything was happening so quickly, and his brain was reacting by analyzing and predicting and trying to reason out the problem to a logical conclusion, which was the most unhelpful thing possible at the moment.

Pen saw his thoughts play out across his face and stood up with a sharp movement. “Heir apparent or not, our baby is legitimate right

now too,” she said. The hurt in her voice mingled with fury. “Is the Crown all you wanted me for?”

Simon stood up too. “What? No, of course not, it’s just that—”

She whirled around, retreating into a sitting room. “Go spend the night in your damn treehouse,” she growled, and slammed the door.

17

Penelope sat on the couch as far from possible from her husband while the lawyer explained what would happen now that she was no longer about to be Queen.

“You’re lucky,” said the droll little man, and Pen restrained her urge to slap him. Lucky? Nothing about this was lucky. She was losing everything she’d never realized she’d always wanted. “You won’t have to abdicate,” the lawyer went on, “since the coronation never had the chance to happen. You’ll still be in line for the throne, though your baby won’t be.”

She put a hand on her stomach. It was still flat, for now. But soon it would round out with new life, and her baby—her and Simon’s baby—would be common knowledge. Just in time for the divorce.

She refused to look at Simon and she could feel him doing the same from the opposite end of the couch. He’d been polite throughout the last few days as the shitstorm swirled around them, and she hated him for that. How could he stay so distant? Was it so easy for him to part ways with her, as if they’d never been lovers? She’d been angry when she’d hurled that accusation about him only wanting her for her crown the other day, but he hadn’t defended himself, and he’d barely talked to her since then. She couldn’t help but start to believe that maybe she’d hit on something. Maybe that really was what he’d wanted. He was a good guy, sure, always doing the right thing—but at his core, he needed to feel important. And since Penelope was no longer important to Escona, she was no longer important to him. Or at least, that was all she could assume, judging by his willingness to go along with the divorce without so much as a single complaint.

Her heart ached. She shored herself up against it, tried to hold herself together. He’d made his choice. All she could do now was face her future with dignity.

“You and Simon are free to work for the Castle in an alternate capacity,” the lawyer went on, “though you would of course still need to find alternate housing.”

“No,” she said before Simon could respond. “I’m leaving.”

Simon turned at that, finally looking at her. “What?”

The lawyer cleared his throat. “I’ll, ah, leave you to discuss.” He half-bowed before remembering they were no longer royalty and scurrying out of the room, embarrassed.

Penelope’s fingers were still splayed across her stomach. She dropped her hand and pulled herself up, examining the suitcase on the bed. She’d been in the middle of packing when the lawyer had come for their briefing. She resumed the job now, sweeping open her underwear drawer and dumping it into the bag. She paused—the corset she’d worn on her wedding night lay on top of the pile. She was tempted to pull it out and toss it in the trash, remembering how he’d kissed his way up her calves that evening, how he’d looked at her like she was priceless and beautiful. In the end she just dumped some more pajamas on top of the garment, unable to bear throwing it away but also unable to look at it any longer.

Simon stood up behind her. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“I want to get away from this place,” she replied, not looking at him. “I’m going back to my toy store, my old life. Or maybe I’ll leave Escona entirely. Travel the world.” She laughed, a bitter sound. “It’ll get me away from my mother, anyway, now that I won’t be able to send her to America.”

Simon took off his reading glasses—he’d been looking over the paperwork involved in this whole mess all day—and rubbed his temples. “Must be nice to have a safety net,” he said in a low, vicious tone. “What am I supposed to do, while you frolic off across the world? I gave up everything for you. For Escona. I let myself be used by you and now I have nothing to show for it. It’s easy for you to just run away, to give up. Some of us don’t have that luxury.”

Oh hell no, he was not going to go there. She whirled on him. “I might have kept some connections to my old life, I might have not been completely ready to be Queen, but I was always more ready for romance than you!” she declared, stabbing a finger at him. “I didn’t use you for anything, and I’m done letting you use me for things now.” She yanked open her last drawer, scooped up an armful of jeans, and dropped them into the suitcase. With a savage motion, she slid the zipper shut.

“So that’s it? We’re doing this? Divorcing, moving out?”

“I’m moving out. I don’t care what you do.” She didn’t look at him when she said it. She didn’t want him to know how untrue it was, didn’t want him to see her so vulnerable. She hated what was happening, what it had done to them, but it was over. She wanted this whole chapter of her life behind her. Someday, she would heal. The faster she got away from this man and this castle the faster that would happen. “We’ll do the divorce quietly, before the baby is born. You can go back to Danovar if that’s what you want.”