Oh, he was well aware. Being King was his penance and one he undertook willingly.
Cassius ignored his irritation. ‘If you’re not comfortable with that tonight, you may sleep in the Queen’s rooms,’ he said levelly. ‘But I should warn you that this will not be a union of convenience only, not now.’
‘I see. Well, I understand. And no need for me to go to the Queen’s rooms tonight.’ Something hot gleamed in her eyes, a little spark.
So it seemed she was happy being in his bed after all.
Careful.
Yes, he needed the reminder, because already the smouldering embers of his desire were beginning to ignite in response to that spark. It wouldn’t take much for them to burst into flame...a kiss, a touch...
The thread of unease he’d felt when he’d walked in wound tighter.
His desire for her was more...consuming than he’d expected it to be and he didn’t like that one bit. This wasn’t the library at the Queen’s Estate. This was the palace, where he was king, and a king shouldn’t be so desperate to sleep with his wife that he literally couldn’t think of anything else.
That was the man talking and the man couldn’t be trusted. He knew that already.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have her in his bed tonight after all. Perhaps he should use tonight to remind the man of how a king should act so that, when she finally joined him, it would be the king who’d be in control.
Besides, she could probably use a night to adjust to her new position too, no matter that little spark in her eyes.
He strolled over to the windows, paused to glance out at the blue sea, then carried on over to the fireplace, Inara watching him all the while.
It made him uncomfortable. Made him feel oddly transparent, as if she could see the exact nature of his restlessness. As if she knew that the title of king was just a mask he wore, and a badly fitting mask at that. As if she could see beneath that mask to the same careless prince he’d once been. A man driven by his own selfish desires and desperately unsuited to be the ruler he now was. A man who hadn’t respected the throne or the role he’d been given to play.
A man whose own brother was dead because of him.
It was a good thing that man was now as dead as Caspian.
Cassius met her gaze, his mask firmly in place. ‘Good. I have drawn up a schedule for you this week, which will involve a stylist and wardrobe consultation, meetings with the palace PR people, media training plus protocol and etiquette instruction. That won’t be enough time to prepare you for a formal royal ball, but it should allow you to feel more comfortable at the small gathering I’ve organised to reintroduce you to my court.’
A flicker of unhappy surprise crossed her face. ‘A...small gathering? How small?’
‘It’s nothing,’ he said dismissively. ‘A couple of hundred people. Not many.’
‘A couple of hundred...’ She looked abruptly down at the floor. ‘No,’ she said as if to herself. ‘No, I can do that.’
Cassius, expecting an argument, was thrown off balance. ‘I know it’s not what you particularly enjoy but—’
‘It’s part of being a queen,’ she interrupted, brisker this time. ‘I understand.’ She lifted her gaze back to his, somehow standing even straighter. ‘I’ll do it. I can manage. And I... I’m sorry about my behaviour yesterday in the library. When you suggested I take on royal duties, I was...shocked. And a bit scared. I’ve been living at the Queen’s Estate for five years and...well...change is always difficult. But, as you said, neither of us has a choice about this, so I’m going to try.’ Her chin lifted. ‘I want to be a good queen for Aveiras and I’m going to work hard not to let you down.’
Surprise rippled through him. He’d expected her to give in at some point, because he wouldn’t be moved on this, but he’d thought he’d have to insist or perhaps argue with her.
He studied her, aware of something shifting inside him. A curiosity he hadn’t been conscious of before. She’d always been an open book to him, but this was...different. ‘What brought this on? You weren’t at all happy about it yesterday.’
‘I know.’ She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, her feet moving about as if she couldn’t figure out how to stand. His mother would have found that appalling. She had been a stickler for correct behaviour, and fidgeting was not correct behaviour, especially not for a queen.
‘I’ve had some time to think about it,’ Inara went on, oblivious to her bad posture. ‘And you were right about having to accept things. About putting my feelings before my country, too. Aveiras needs a queen, and I’m that queen whether I like it or not.’
Cassius knew he should have been happy that she’d made peace with his decision, that she was willing to try being the queen Aveiras needed. Yet her little speech irritated him. Had he been expecting something more, something he could fight her on? Did he want to fight her?
Ridiculous. He didn’t want a fight. The last few years his parents had been alive had been a constant battle against his father’s repeated calls for him to display some kind of restraint—especially after his ‘ill-conceived marriage’, as his father had termed it. He’d accused Cassius of disrespecting the crown, accused him of loving himself more than he loved his country.
His father hadn’t been wrong. Cassius had taken great pleasure in disobeying his father’s rules and strictures, even making a game out of it with mocking statements, snide observations, sarcastic sound bites and compromising press photos. And the worst part about it was that now he barely even remembered why he’d done all those things.
One thing he was sure of was that he didn’t do them any longer, and neither did he fight. He didn’t lose himself to anger—or indeed any emotion inappropriate to his position—so he shouldn’t be regretting his wife’s capitulation, not at all. He wanted this to go smoothly and easily, and the fewer challenges from her the better.
Yet, despite what he wanted, he still felt restless and irritable, moving from the fireplace and pacing over to one of the tables where he kept another bonsai, a cherry blossom. Reflexively, he looked the miniature tree over, taking note of the soil conditions and the tree itself. Tending plants was useful for all kinds of emotional disturbances. Sometimes he preferred more physical outlets, such as swimming endless laps of the palace pool, or running for miles on the treadmill in the gym, but when that was impossible he liked to come into this room and check over the pots. It focused his mind and helped him concentrate. Helped him stay in control.