The Wedding Night They Never Had

He stared at her, a possessive, hungry anger boiling inside him, demanding to be let out. Demanding that he close the distance between them and take her in his arms, kiss that beautiful mouth, tell her that there would be no divorce—not now, not ever.

But he forced it aside. If he couldn’t be what she wanted him to be, then he could hardly demand the same of her. Insisting that there would be no divorce would be the height of hypocrisy and he couldn’t do that.

She’s yours...

No, she wasn’t. She’d proved herself a worthy queen, far more worthy than he deserved. It would be better to let her go.

Something in him felt as though it was being torn in two, but he ignored it, shoved the lid on his anger and his pain and let it boil dry until there was nothing left but the hard shell of a king.

He drew himself up. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I won’t insist. If a divorce is what you want, then that’s what you’ll have.’

Shock crossed her face, followed by a brief flare of agony that drew an echo of pain from him too.

‘Just like that, Cassius?’ Her voice was hoarse and it was clear she hadn’t expected him to agree. ‘You give in just like that?’

He ignored the part of him that wanted to take her in his arms, soothe her hurts and tell her that he wanted to keep her for ever. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear the weight. The expectations of a king were crushing him already; the expectations of a husband would kill him.

‘There’s no point fighting about it.’ He could hear his own voice, cool and calm, as if it were someone else’s. ‘I’ll admit it’s not what I want, but I won’t stand in your way if you want to leave.’

She blinked again furiously and he could see tears behind the lenses of her glasses. They felt like knives to his soul. Yet another sign that he was doing the right thing, of course.

‘What about us having no choice? If I’m pregnant then—’

‘If you’re pregnant then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ Something in him settled, hardened, became rigid. And he let it. ‘In the meantime, I’ll get the papers drawn up. If you require anything, anything at all, it’s yours.’

Her mouth was soft and vulnerable, and tears trailed down her cheeks. ‘Anything but your heart, right?’

‘You don’t want my heart, Inara,’ he said. ‘There’s not much of it left. You deserve more than what I have to give you.’

She looked unbearably regal standing there in her blue gown with her hair loose, the crown glittering on her head, her chin lifted. Vulnerable, yes, but there was also a strength to her.

His people had accepted her, but she’d never be his queen. He’d find someone else, someone who wouldn’t demand things from him. Expect things from him. Someone who’d accept what he had to give and never ask for more.

‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I do deserve more. I deserve to be loved, and by you.’

Something in his heart tore, but he ignored that along with everything else. ‘Find someone else, Inara. Someone better. Someone who doesn’t have a crown to bear as well. I can only carry one thing, and I’m sorry, but that’s my country. I can’t carry you as well.’

She took a heaving breath, opened her mouth to say something and then, clearly thinking better of it, pressed her lips together and looked away. She nodded, her pretty crown glittering in the light. ‘Very well,’ she said at last. ‘If that’s how it’s going to be, then I’ll require a flight to the Queen’s Estate, please. Tonight.’

She didn’t wait for him to respond. She simply walked to the door.

‘I thought you were better than that,’ he heard himself say, even though he hadn’t meant to...even though he thought he felt nothing. ‘I thought you at least would accept me for who I am.’

She paused, her hand on the door. ‘This is not who you are, Cassius.’

‘You’re wrong. This is who I am. And if you can’t accept that, then you’re better off leaving.’

A tear trickled down her cheek. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she said softly. ‘Perhaps I am.’

Then she quietly opened the door and went out.