‘The gardens were a wedding gift for my mother. She liked the sound, too. She told me that it was the one place in the madness of the Palace and her life that she could be sure of finding peace.’
‘I can understand that. It’s very soothing.’
‘Do you need soothing? Are you stressed?’ He sat down next to her and she realised how tired he looked. Since they’d arrived back in Zubran he’d been in endless meetings, his presence required almost continuously either by the Council or by his father.
‘I should be stressed. Marriage and me. Can’t believe I’m saying those two words in the same sentence and not freaking out and running through the Palace screaming.’ Laughing at herself, Avery twisted the ring on her finger, realising that it no longer felt heavy. It felt good.
He breathed deeply and took her hand in his. ‘You have no idea how relieved I am that you’re not freaking out.’
‘I trust you. And I love you.’ She curled her fingers around his and smiled. ‘Did you hear that? I said, “I love you.” And now I just said it again. That’s twice in as many minutes. I’m getting good at it.’
‘It’s practice.’
‘Not practice. Trust.’ She watched as a butterfly settled on the border of flowers next to her and opened its wings to the sun, trusting that no harm would come to it while it stole the moment for itself. ‘Trust is like a door. I always assumed that keeping that door closed kept you safe, but now I see that opening it can let in good things. Things I’ve never felt before.’
‘Avery—’ He seemed unusually tense and she kissed him.
‘Although we were together for that year, I didn’t really understand the level of responsibility you face. I didn?
??t understand the pressure. Everyone wants a piece of you and you have to juggle so many things. I think my job is busy, but yours is stupid. And everyone comes to you expecting a decision. I see now why you behaved the way you did when horrid Richard tried to goad you. As far as you were concerned, you’d already made that decision and moved on to the next. You were decisive because you loved me.’
He cupped her face in his hands. ‘I do love you. Don’t ever forget that.’ He kissed her and then stood up. ‘These party organising skills of yours—do they extend to children’s parties?’
‘You want to hold a children’s party?’
‘My mother was patron of a charity devoted to equal educational opportunities for all. Once a year we hold a giant children’s party.’ He gave a helpless lift of his shoulders. ‘I confess that running it doesn’t play to my skills.’
Pleased to finally have something positive to do, Avery smiled. ‘Just as long as you don’t expect me to do a balloon release or hire fifty swans. What’s my budget?’
‘Change the day.’ Mal faced the Council, staring at faces aged with worry and experience, faces that had been part of his life for as long as he could remember. ‘Even if you shift it by a week, that would work.’
‘Your Highness, we cannot do that. You know that circumstances do not allow us any flexibility.’
He did know. He’d been living with those ‘circumstances’ for a decade. He also knew how Avery would react if she found out what that date signified.
And then the door to the Council chamber opened and she stood there, fire in her eyes, and he knew that, somehow, from someone, she had found out.
Across the room, their eyes met and he stood, forcing himself to absorb the silent accusation that flowed across the room like a lethal mist.
So that was it, then. Regret stabbed him along with disappointment and frustration at the timing. Maybe if they’d had a little longer in this phase of their relationship. Maybe if those fragile strands of trust had been given time to strengthen …
He addressed the Council. ‘Leave us.’
Something in his tone clearly communicated itself to them because they rose instantly, those men for whom duty exceeded all other priorities, exchanging worried glances as they shuffled from the room. He knew there would be mutterings, but he didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was the woman holding his gaze.
She stalked into the room, her heels tapping on the marble floor of the Palace that had housed his ancestors for centuries. She’d come to reject him, as a small part of him had known she would—reject her role as his lover, his wife, his princess.
The irony was she looked regal; this woman who had turned his life upside down from the moment he’d met her walked with the confidence of a Queen.
The moment the door closed behind the last Council member, she pounced. ‘In the middle of planning this party, I had a very illuminating conversation with one of the Palace staff. Were you going to tell me?’
He didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about. ‘I was afraid you would misinterpret the facts.’
‘That is not an answer. Were you going to tell me?’
‘I hoped I wouldn’t need to.’
‘So if I hadn’t found out, that would have been all right?’