The Wedding Night They Never Had

She was still very pale, which was odd. The plan had never been to stay married, and besides, he knew that she didn’t like living in the city. That she didn’t like being Queen, full-stop. So surely she should be pleased at this news?

‘You can keep the Queen’s Estate, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ He glanced around the room, noting that, while it had certainly been dusted well, there was still a lot of cheerful clutter everywhere.

The Queen’s Estate was a pretty place, but it reminded him too much of his mother, so if Inara wanted it she could have it.

‘Or you could take your pick of any royal property, if you prefer,’ he went on when she didn’t say anything. ‘You’ll also be given a monthly stipend that should keep you quite comfortable.’

Still she said nothing, continuing to look at him as if he’d hurt her.

‘Your life won’t change,’ he said gently, because her colour hadn’t returned and it concerned him. ‘You can stay here and continue with your research. You don’t have to move if you don’t want to. And you won’t have to come into Katara any longer.’ He paused. ‘You’ll be free, little one. The way you always wanted to be.’

Yet the shocked expression on her face lingered, and after a moment she looked away, clenching and unclenching her hands.

She definitely was not pleased by the news, and he still couldn’t understand it. When he’d offered her the protection of his name that night in the limo five years earlier, she’d been wary, and rightly so. She’d wanted to escape a marriage, not jump head-first into another one.

His parents had been horrified, as had the majority of the country after news of the marriage had come out. They hadn’t seen him as the saviour he’d hoped they would, and it didn’t matter that he’d done it to protect someone else. It had been a scandal attached to the family name and how could he be so selfish? What was one girl compared to the dignity of the crown?

They were right, of course; he hadn’t married Inara to save her. He’d married Inara to save himself in his family’s eyes. Still, what was done was done, and he’d stubbornly stuck to the story he’d told himself: he’d saved an innocent teenage girl from the clutches of a monster.

However, the necessity of the marriage hadn’t existed for three years. He should have started divorce proceedings earlier, but assuming the duties of a position he’d never wanted, and had never envisaged taking on, had consumed most of his time.

‘If you’re worried about what will happen to you,’ he said into the growing silence, ‘Then you needn’t—’

‘I’m not worried about what will happen to me.’

Cassius stared at her.

She kept her attention out of the window, her hands still clenched, her knuckles white. She’d never interrupted him before.

He frowned. ‘What’s wrong, Inara?’

Agitation poured off her. She’d always been bright and sparky and interested, with a magpie mind that darted here and there. He found her intellectual, yet quirky and amusing, and he enjoyed his visits to check on her progress.

She hadn’t seemed to care that he was a prince or a king. She’d been interested in his opinions, not because he was a royal, but because she seemed genuinely interested in him. And she didn’t always agree with his views; she was quite happy to argue a point, which he found stimulating, as hardly anyone argued with him any more.

She looked at him all of a sudden, her pointed chin firming as if she’d reached a decision about something.

‘No,’ she said flatly.

Cassius wasn’t sure what she was talking about. ‘No? No what?’

Inara’s chin came up. ‘No, I’m not giving you a divorce.’