Second in line not just for the crown—the chance to rule his father’s smal Iberian kingdom—but also for his father’s attentions, only to learn that the girl whom he loves, my spoiled cousin Esme, is destined for his brother—the one who, in Rhys’s opinion was born into everything, yet deserves nothing.
And while I’ve tried to gaze upon Rhys with compassion, if for no other reason than the fact that we share something in common—
we’re both being kept from a chance at true happiness—being kept from the one we love due to politics, finance, and traditions we just barely understand—my sympathies were soon thwarted by his undeniable mean streak, and his abject cruelty toward me.
As though it’s my doing. As though it’s my fault that Alrik is betrothed to the one Rhys loves.
As though I wouldn’t change that if I could.
As though I wouldn’t reverse it, switch up the birth order so that I could live happily with Alrik, and he could live happily with Esme, and we could al live happily ever after—preferably far apart from each other.
But alas, that is not to be.
For one thing, Esme has no interest in Rhys. She loves Alrik. She can’t wait to be married.
For another, sometimes, when I’m trying very hard to be logical and reasonable, I remind myself that while I’ve no doubt Alrik loves me, loves me in the way that I love him, I’m not sure I ful y believe him when he claims he has no interest in the crown.
It’s his birthright. As the firstborn son, as his father’s heir, it’s what he’s been destined for ever since he came into the world. To turn his back on al that, wel , it seems like a sacrilege.
“Adelina, please don’t look so sad.” Alrik’s lips sweep my face, desperate to brighten my darkening mood. “Not when I happen to have the most wonderful surprise for you.”
I lower my gaze, assuring myself I can do this. That I’m real y, truly ready to go through with it, then I meet his eyes and say, “And I have one for you.”
I take a deep breath and gather my strength. Virtue isn’t something one gives away easily, not without marriage, or at least the promise thereof. And if word got out, wel , there’s no doubt it would ruin me. And yet, I don’t care. I don’t care about rules and conventions that have everything to do with the head while steadfastly ignoring the heart.
I can’t care about a future I can’t even see, much less imagine.
Al I know for sure is that Alrik wil marry Esme, and, eventual y, someone wil marry me. There’ve been offers. Serious offers. But for now anyway, I refuse to entertain them, no matter how much my parents may beg and plead. Even though I ful y expect to one day lie with my husband in our marriage bed, even though I expect he wil be a good and kind man with much to recommend, I know in my he
art that I wil never love him in the way I love Alrik.
The kind of love we share only comes once in a lifetime—and for some, not even then.
And it’s for this reason alone that I’m prepared to risk it al .
If I do nothing else with this life I find myself in, I want to experience love in its absolute, deepest, truest form. Otherwise, I just can’t see the point in going on.
“You first,” he says, eyes glinting with anticipation, as he grasps my hands in his.
I lift my chin, lift my arms to circle around him, my hands clasped at his neck, looking straight into his dark eyes when I say, “I’ve decided that I am ready and quite wil ing … to make myself yours.”
His brows merge, at first not quite understanding the meaning behind my words. But he soon catches on, reacting in a way I didn’t expect. As many times as I rehearsed this scenario in my head, not once did I imagine he’d reply in a burst of uncontrol ed laughter.
Deep and hearty laughter. So deep and hearty I’m afraid someone wil overhear, find us sequestered in here.
Then, just as quickly, he pul s me back to him, covers my face with his kiss once again, lips pressing softly against my flesh as he says, “My dearest Adelina, there is no need for you to sacrifice your virtue when you are soon to be mine.”
I pul away, stare into his eyes—my gaze incredulous—his resolute.
“I—I don’t understand,” I stammer.
“We are to be married.” He smiles. “You and I. Just like we’ve dreamed. It’s al been arranged. Just you and me and a member of the clergy. I’m sorry it won’t be grand, the kind of wedding befitting my future queen, and I’m sorry your family can’t be there to witness our union, though I’m sure you understand the need for great secrecy. But soon, very soon, once word is out and my father has no choice but to accept what I’ve done and al ow both his sons to forge a future with the ones they love, wel , then we’l have the grandest party you’ve ever seen. Adelina, I promise you that.”
My eyes search his face, wishing I could match his level of elation, but I’m left with far too many questions to even attempt that. “But how wil we do this? Where wil we do this? And, more importantly, Alrik, your father wil kill you!”
But Alrik just laughs, erasing the notion with an impatient wave of his hand. “Kil his firstborn son? Never! My father wil adapt. And when he meets you, gets to know you as wel as I do, wel , he won’t be able to resist loving you too—you’l see!”
But even though I’d love to believe that, I can’t. I’m less idealistic than Alrik. Having made do with far less fortune and privilege, I’ve experienced firsthand some of the more searing disappointments life brings.