Then she remembered him saying, “Do you think it was easy for me? Two years. Two years I fought against taking you, knowing I had no right. I was one day away from letting you leave Zakhar a virgin. But then you came to me and you gave me that right. You cannot take it back. Not now. Not ever.”
That made absolutely no sense. The way he talked now sounded like the Andre of old, the one from eleven years ago. The man she’d fallen in love with. The man she’d been so sure loved her. The man whose children she’d wanted to bear. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he loved her now. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d loved her then, too, had always loved her.
But she did know better. She knew he hadn’t loved her then. She knew because of the money he’d sent her as a parting gift. The money and the words of rejection. Not just a rejection of her, but of everything she’d ever wanted to give him. He could never have done that if he loved her. Never.
* * *
Andre looked around the conference table at the Privy Council. “We are agreed, then, gentlemen?” he asked politely. Not by a flicker of his eyelids did he betray they had spent far more time than he’d allotted for discussion of this issue, and that the conclusion the council had nearly reached after much dithering was the one he’d already reached the week before, despite Zax’s powerful arguments against it.
Bringing Zakhar into the twenty-first century had entailed far more than bringing in new industry and technology. Far more than instituting sweeping policy changes. Andre had long since determined Zakhar also needed to modify its political structure. Absolute monarchs were passé in this day and age, but the Zakharians had stubbornly clung to their traditional way of life, and that had included a fierce, unshakable devotion to the much-loved monarchy. Zakharians were proud that the House of Marianescu had reigned over Zakhar in an unbroken line for centuries, from father to son, and were resistant to change.
Zakhar had been extremely fortunate the House of Marianescu had been just as devoted to Zakhar as the Zakharians had been to it, and that the kings of Zakhar had—to a man—been worthy to rule. Some more than others, it was true, but Zakhar had never had a truly bad king. Andre’s own father had ruled with a fair and just hand, despite his own personal shortcomings as a father and a husband. It wasn’t common knowledge, but Andre’s father had been instrumental in his wife’s death by insisting on another son to ensure the Marianescu legacy, despite the queen’s doctor warning against a second pregnancy. But as a king Andre’s father had been above reproach.
The Privy Council advised, but the king had final authority. And the Privy Council had always been appointed by the king, so it was unlikely the council would provide any advice that ran contrary to the king’s wishes. That was the way it had been right up through his father’s day. But in the three years since Andre had ascended the throne he had slowly but surely started placing more power—and responsibility—in the hands of the now-elected Privy Council, another change he’d instituted over the objections of nearly everyone, including his cousin Zax. That meant having the patience of a saint at times, something Andre struggled to attain. But he knew it was the right thing to do...for the long term. In the short term, however, he often had to grit his teeth and smile.
He glanced in the direction of his cousin Niko lounging indolently on the other side of the large conference table. Niko had been a mistake, a big one. Andre hadn’t intervened when Niko had stood for election to the council. He’d figured the electors would see Niko’s obvious moral weaknesses and unsuitability for the job the same way he did, and would reject his candidacy without Andre expressing an opinion one way or the other, something he was loath to do in the new political process. I just didn’t count on the Zakharians’ devotion to the royal family, he acknowledged privately. He wouldn’t make that same mistake the second time around.
Niko had easily won his election despite the stellar qualifications of his opponent—a man Andre had really wanted on the council—and had been a royal pain ever since. Andre had hoped Niko’s new responsibilities on the council would steady his erratic younger cousin the way military discipline had shaped his cousin Zax, but that had been a fleeting hope at best. Niko still skated through life like the petulant boy he’d once been. And he delighted in obstructing change, even when it was change for the better.
Not that Niko would ever openly take a stand against Andre any more than his brother would...but for entirely different reasons. Nothing would have been more fatal to Niko’s nascent political career—in a showdown between the king and his younger cousin there was no contest in the eyes of the Zakharians. But Niko agitated the Privy Council in private, raising specious objections to Andre’s best ideas, and encouraging the council to drag its feet on one issue after the other, especially when it came to changes potentially limiting the monarch’s absolute authority.