CHAPTER NINE
INARASATINone of the formal sitting rooms in the palace, her head aching. One of the palace historians had been giving her a lecture on the history of the de Leon royal family for the past couple of hours but she had a horrible feeling that, no matter how hard she tried, she was going to remember precisely none of it.
Not that she hadn’t tried. She really had because, after Cassius had told her about his family and the legacy he was trying to carry on, she’d decided she had to make this work. Because, like it or not, she was part of that legacy. And she couldn’t let her part be a chaotic queen smashing glasses, forgetting names and dashing out of the palace when things went wrong.
That morning, when she’d found him in his study, she’d automatically treated him the way she had when he’d used to visit her, putting a casual hand on his back and wanting to know what he was doing. But he’d stiffened and then gone distant, shrugging her hand away. Becoming the King.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have got angry, but the way he’d shrugged off her touch, after being so hungry for it the night before, had hurt. He was a different man when he was the King, and she didn’t like it. And, what was more, she was tired of it.
She shouldn’t have called him a martyr, though; that had been far too blunt. Especially given what he’d told her about his brother, about his parents. About how he was to blame for it. She’d wanted to know more, to talk to him about it, but he’d turned and walked out before she could.
She’d thought he might say more that night, when she’d been summoned to his rooms, but conversation clearly had not been on his mind. She’d stepped into his bedroom to find him pacing before the fire and she’d barely greeted him before he’d crossed the room, taken her in his arms and then taken her to bed.
And he’d kept her there all night.
That had set the pattern for the past week. Her days were full of ‘queen training’, as she liked to think of it, while her nights were full of him and ‘wife training’. The wife training she liked. She took to those lessons enthusiastically, and she never forgot them either, because learning how to please him pleased her too.
But he didn’t talk more about his family or about himself and, even though he’d check in with her during whatever lesson she was having at the time, the only conversation they had was about how she was getting on and whether she was finding it difficult. He was always pleasant and calm and, though he was less condescending, he was no less distant.
That part she didn’t like. That part she wanted to change. It wasn’t the King she wanted, it was the man he was when he was with her in the depths of the night, warm and vital and hungry. Except she didn’t know how to reach that man.
Inara bent over her notepad, hoping the historian wouldn’t see as she closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples, trying to get rid of the headache.
‘The Queen is tired,’ a deep voice said. ‘I think that’s enough for one day.’
Inara looked up sharply.
Cassius stood in the doorway, dressed in an immaculate dark suit, white shirt and a tie the same smoky gold as his eyes. He glanced briefly at her, his expression impenetrable, then strode over to the historian and had a brief murmured conversation before the man nodded and went out, leaving Inara and Cassius alone.
‘I’m all right,’ Inara said, annoyed by her headache and the peremptory way Cassius had dismissed the man. ‘I was just tired.’
Cassius came over to the uncomfortable couch she was sitting on, giving her a critical once-over. ‘You’re not all right. You’re wearing those contacts again and I can see the circles under your eyes.’
‘And who’s fault is that?’ she said crossly. ‘And as for the contacts—’
‘They’re not needed,’ he finished for her, still infuriatingly calm. ‘I told you that you could wear your glasses. Why aren’t you?’
‘I was trying to get used to the contacts.’ She rubbed at her eyes. ‘Give me a few days and it’ll get better.’
‘Inara.’
‘What?’ She glared at him.
He stared back, his gaze very direct. ‘I’ve been talking with people and they all say the same thing. That you have difficulty concentrating, that you don’t retain the information you’re given and that you’re finding it difficult.’
Anger wound through her, along with a certain defensiveness. She’d hoped to have improved since last week, especially as she was now trying even harder, and him finding out that she hadn’t was galling.
‘I’m trying,’ she said flatly. ‘But all this protocol and etiquette and other royal stuff...’ She stared down at the notepad on which she’d written no notes whatsoever, flashing back to the endless social etiquette drills her mother had put her through. ‘Or maybe it’s just me.’
There was a moment’s silence and then, unexpectedly, Cassius said, ‘It’s not just you.’
She glanced up at him, surprised. ‘Oh?’
‘It was...difficult for me too.’
His expression gave nothing away, and yet she heard something almost reluctant in his voice, as if he hadn’t meant to say it.
Interesting. That was not what she’d thought he’d say. A memory came back to her, of him in his study and how he’d mentioned that he’d hated all the rules and restrictions placed on him. Was that part of it?