CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A FTER A TIME , Cristhian helped Zia back upstairs to her room. He tucked her into bed, then began to give instructions to staff about how to proceed while she was on bed rest. Including moving some of his things into her suite.

He would be here through the night, and as long as he needed until he felt assured that all would be well. He trusted the doctor, but his brain had not yet taken the doctor’s assurances on board.

Perhaps his brain was no longer functioning, since he had told Zia that he was in love with her.

She had very purposely not said it back.

This was fine, perhaps even best. It allowed him to make the right choices. Love did not need to be reciprocal to put things in their place.

He would love her, and their children, and that would be the settled, controlled feeling he was searching for.

So he made sure an array of foods were brought up for her to eat, a drink within arm’s reach at all times, and he ignored her protests when he settled himself into a chair and insisted he would not leave until she fell asleep.

Once she finally did, he watched her for a time. The slow, steady rise and fall of her breathing. Everything was under control, because he had put everything in perfect place. The doctor on property, quick to drop in and make certain everything was okay.

Perhaps the wedding had not gone according to plan, perhaps nothing with Zia’s family had, but he had rolled with every punch.

Perhaps he had not fully thought through love declarations, but what did a few words matter?

His phone began to buzz for what felt like the hundredth time. He finally pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. He had quite a few messages, but he ignored all of them except the one from his grandparents. He moved out of Zia’s bedroom and into one of the exterior rooms where he could make a call to them without waking Zia. They had been expecting to video into his wedding, so no doubt they were concerned they’d missed something.

His grandmother’s kitchen table appeared on the screen, and Cristhian smiled in spite of himself. “Hello, Grandmother. Your camera is backward.”

She muttered something, then got it to turn around so that both his grandparents’ faces were on the screen.

“I apologize,” he said, surprised at how stiff he sounded. “The ceremony had to be postponed. Zia begun to have some contractions. She is to be on bed rest for the next few days, and then we will reevaluate.”

“How frightening for her,” Grandmother said, a worried frown crossing her features.

“Indeed.”

“And you.”

Indeed .

She had been looking pale, pained. So worried about Beaugonia when she should be worrying about herself.

“What can we do, Cristhian?” his grandfather asked gently.

What can we do?

They had always asked that. Even when there was an ocean of impossibility between them, they had always asked what they could do. Not what he could do. Not what he could offer.

“Nothing.” He smiled thinly. “But thank you. The doctor assures us all is well, and that is the most important thing now. The wedding will commence once she’s better, and I’ll make certain you’re able to watch.”

“Yes, of course. We’ll watch whenever it is. But, dear, are you sure you’re all right?”

“It has been...a stressful day.”

“Tell us,” Grandfather urged gently.

For much of his early adulthood, he had sat down and done just that. Dumped everything on his grandparents, and then listened to their advice. Sometimes he’d taken it. Sometimes he hadn’t. But either way, he’d never been worried about their censure, and they’d always been there, ready to listen to his next conundrum, no matter the outcome of the last.

For the past few years, he had not leaned on them as much. He was an adult. In charge of his life. He worried about their health, the effect stress or worry would have on them.

But tonight, when they encouraged him to tell, he sat down and did just that. King Rendall. Beaugonia’s panic attack and the clarity it gave him. Down to telling Zia he loved her. And her saying nothing back.

“Well, that is certainly a stressful day,” Grandfather said after a bit.

“It is under control, though,” Cristhian said. “Zia has agreed to marry me. Her father has agreed to let her go. All will be well.”

His grandparents shared one of their looks.

“You do understand you can’t control life , Cristhian.”

Cristhian didn’t have a quick return for that. It wasn’t that he thought he was controlling life , just that if he organized things a certain way, all would be well. If he got everyone to agree to his way of things, then things would turn out the way they should.

That wasn’t control . It was just...being in charge, being successful, not letting life knock you out. Because you were protected.

“Once we are married, everything will fall into place. Zia does care for me,” Cristhian said, sure he was comforting them...and not himself. Because there was something between Zia and him, or they wouldn’t be in this predicament.

“Cristhian, you can’t make anyone love you. You can’t perfect all the conditions so they decide to. You can only honor your own feelings and your own needs. While respecting theirs.”

Cristhian tried to reject those words, but he’d never been any good at ignoring his grandparents’ wisdom. They’d been there, every step they could be. The only solid points in his life along with his parents’ memory.

And even that had been rocked by his realizations this morning about panic attacks. About how deep everything with his mother had gone. And now, in this moment, that someday he would not have his grandparents’ wisdom to rely on.

Life and time would march on. Both too short, and infinite, all at the same time. Everything he’d been trying to control, since that moment he’d lost his parents, was an exercise in futility.

“You know,” Grandmother said after the silence had stretched on too long. “I said I love you to your grandfather first and he didn’t say anything back.”

“That is not true!”

“It is absolutely true,” Grandmother shot back. “You were so busy playing with that damn dog of yours—”

“Which means I didn’t hear you, not that I didn’t say it back .”

“I think you heard me.”

They bickered like that for a few minutes, shoulder to shoulder, smiling even as they disagreed. About events long gone. And through that time and this time, they had loved each other. Weathered storms and tragedies and challenges, alongside joys.

Cristhian had spent his life with these examples of love. So much so he’d been sure love was the answer.

And he supposed it was. But not just the words. Something bigger. Something deeper. Not love as an agent of control , but something far more terrifying.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Grandfather asked, confusion drawing his bushy white brows together.

“For being yourselves. It has been an invaluable part of my life.” One that Zia did not have. So, no, he could not control things to ensure her feelings. But what he could do, but what he would do, was give her something she’d never had.

And spread that love and support to their children, no matter where life took them.

They said their I-love-yous and their goodbyes. For a moment Cristhian sat in the darkened room and just listened to his own breathing.

You can’t make anyone love you .

Had he thought he could? No, it was more complicated than that. Perhaps he’d rested too much on the idea that love would be the answer. That if she loved him, he would get what he wanted.

Also simplistic, when his feelings were anything but.

He returned to her bedroom. She was still asleep.

He had received confirmation that the royal family had returned to their castle in Lille. He still did not know what had happened, but he had decided to trust that Beaugonia had it all under control, as she’d claimed.

And for the first time in his life since he’d lost his parents, he had to trust that control was not the answer.

Letting go was.

Zia woke up. Her room was dim, the curtains drawn, but she noted there was sunlight creeping around the edges. She glanced at the clock. It was well into the morning. She’d slept a ridiculous amount.

She stretched in the bed, took stock of her body. She did feel better than she had at any point yesterday. More herself, or at least her healthy pregnant self. She yawned and pushed herself into a tentative sitting position, ready for any little twinge that she thought meant she should lie back down.

But none came. She let out a long breath of relief, then studied the dim room around her. She startled a bit when she realized there was a body on the little lounge in the corner. Cristhian. Fast asleep.

So handsome it nearly took her breath away. Had he really said he loved her, or was that some dream she’d had? Or maybe another machination. Could she put that past him?

She watched him sleep, her heart twisting in a million little knots. He had said he loved her, and she did not know how to take it for a lie. But why ? She had finally agreed to marry him; he didn’t need to make up stories now.

So why had he said it?

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and this seemed to wake him. He didn’t notice her sitting and looking at him as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He frowned at the screen, poked at it a few times, then shook his head.

When he looked up, he didn’t register any surprise that she was sitting there watching him, but something did cross his expression. A kind of resignation. He got to his feet, walked over to the bed.

“Good morning. Did you sleep?”

She nodded.

“Zia...” He sighed, like he was about to deliver bad news. “I want to make something clear before I tell you what’s happened.”

“What’s happened?”

But he ignored her. “We do not need to marry, if you’d rather not. We can live here, or at one of my other estates, and raise the children together. As...friends, I suppose you’d call it. We can find a way. It was wrong of me to think only marriage could accomplish this.”

Her mouth dropped open, like all her facial muscles had deserted her in shock. He was admitting he was wrong? Just as she’d finally agreed to marry him, he was saying they didn’t have to? After he’d said he loved her? “Why are you saying this?”

“To be clear, I think marrying would be best. I think you could learn to love me. I think we could build a family, putting our children first. Protecting them. But your sister said something to me that has stuck with me. She did not always appreciate your protection, and yet what she’s done was out of love and a gratefulness for that protection. So that you would take a turn at...living your own life, I suppose. So I want you to have a chance at that life that you choose. Because I, too, love you.”

There was that word again, and she just...didn’t know what to do with it. So she focused on her sister. “What has she done?”

He handed her his phone and Zia looked at the article on the screen. The headline was in big block letters: Princess Beaugonia Rendall, Newly Minted Heir of Lille, Weds Crown Prince Lyon Traverso of Divio in Private Ceremony!

Zia could only stare, reading the headline over and over again until she finally found her voice. “She can’t do that.”

“It seems she already has,” Cristhian said gently, taking the phone from her hand.

“But how? I don’t...” Zia shook her head.

“She set you free.”

So why did it feel like she was drowning? Facing down some unknown future instead of one that was clear. “I didn’t ask to be set free! I am not free !” Zia pushed out of bed, not sure where she thought she was going. “She is my sister. I love her, and I’m worried for her.”

Cristhian stood in her way, then gently nudged her back onto the bed. Because she was on bed rest .

“Sit. Rest.”

She did as she was told because those were the doctor’s orders and she would follow them. But...how could she just lie here while her sister... She shook her head. This couldn’t be true.

“Cristhian. This is why my father agreed to let me go. She took my place.” She looked up at him, on the verge of tears. And his expression was sympathetic. But he simply nodded.

“Yes, that is what it looks like.”

“What am I to do if...?”

At some point, you have to face yourself, Zia. Not me. Not your babies. You.

Beau had said that to her. And now she was forcing Zia to do it. Not just her, but Cristhian, too. It wasn’t fair. “Why are you doing this to me?”

He cocked his head, as if he didn’t understand the accusation. Maybe she didn’t understand it either, but it felt better to demand it of him than figure out what was going on inside her.

“I don’t think I am doing anything to you, Zia. I am giving you a choice.”

She stared at him, bowled over by such a sentence. By the realization that swelled through her. “I have never had a choice. Not about anything.” It was an exaggeration, she supposed. She had chosen to protect Beau. She had chosen to have her little week rebellion, then run away for good when she discovered the consequences.

But no one had ever looked at her and told her she did not have to think about consequences. She could just choose . And everything would be taken care of regardless of her choice.

“Not long ago, I would have scoffed at that, but I think you’re right in a way. I think everything you have done has been in reaction to something. To protect someone. So here we are. With no one left to protect. Because your sister has made her choice, and I have ensured our children’s protection. So it might be difficult and uncomfortable, but it is time, Zia. Make a choice for yourself.”

She stared at him, completely and utterly lost. Make a choice for her ? Without thought to anyone else? She didn’t... She couldn’t...

“You have time, Princesa . There is no rush. I thought I knew how it should all go to make it exactly right. I suppose, in a way, I’ve been searching for exactly right since I lost my parents. I have tried to control you, because I thought it was best. Right. But there is no exactly right. None to be had. So we will take whatever time we need to make every next step. Perhaps not all the right ones, but if we put our children first, they will be right enough.”

He took her hand, kept saying these words that seemed to tear down all the protections she’d so carefully hung up over the years. They’d started crumbling when Beau had told her to make choices for herself, and now there was nothing left.

He’d taken it all away.

“I have not been the same since you walked into my life, Zia. I thought I could put that into a neat little order, control it all, make it be what I wanted. That is how I am used to dealing with my life being upended.”

“ My life was upended.”

“Yes. We both have been forced to face the consequences of our actions. I’m not sure either of us handled it as well as perhaps we should have, but we have not done irreparable damage. We have done our best, and now we’ll do better.”

“By not marrying?”

“By choosing, Zia. On my end, I choose you. I have fallen in love with you. Your strength and protective spirit. Your beauty and your wit. But regardless of my feelings, I think we can raise these children mostly on the same page. And that is what I vow to do, regardless of what you choose for yourself.”

“Cristhian...”

“So you take your time. You think on what you vow to do. For yourself.”

At some point, you have to face yourself, Zia. Not me. Not your babies. You.

Cristhian watched over her for the next few days, barely leaving her side, but he did not push the matter. The doctor gave her the all clear to leave bed rest, but she was cautioned to listen to her body, to watch for signs she needed to rest.

He gave her space then. They ate dinner together, but unless she requested his presence, he stayed away.

And she found it didn’t take long at all to miss him. At first, she convinced herself it was just the company she missed. She was lonely.

But Beau called her every day. She wouldn’t give too much away about her new life as a married woman, but she didn’t seem upset or unhappy. She seemed very much herself.

And still, Zia longed for Cristhian. There was something comforting about his presence. In so many different ways.

“So,” Beau drew out, making Zia realize she’d zoned out of their conversation. “I take it you haven’t decided what to do about Cristhian.”

“I am still living here, aren’t I?”

“That’s not a decision, Zia. That’s staying still hoping someone swoops in and makes the decision for you.”

She wasn’t hoping for that. She didn’t think. “How am I supposed to just decide if I love him, or if I could? They are feelings. Not decisions. Not math facts.”

“I am learning all sorts of fascinating things about being married to a man I barely know. One of them is this. I do not question whether or not I love Lyon. I know I do not.”

“It isn’t that simple,” Zia insisted. How could it be? She had a relationship with Cristhian. It wasn’t just taking on an arranged marriage.

“Hmm,” Beau replied.

“It isn’t . I’m confused because... He says he loves me, Beau, but how could he? Why would he? We only barely know each other. I have nothing to offer him, really. I can’t do any protecting, play some role in his life. I am simply the mother of his children.”

“Nothing to offer... Zia, it’s not a transaction .”

“No, but...”

“Zia, you don’t have to be useful to him for him to love you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I don’t think...” But she supposed, in a way, she didn’t understand why he would claim love when there was nothing she was really giving him, beyond birthing their children.

“It doesn’t take Psychology 101 to determine that’s a warped thought no doubt brought on by how our parents treated you as heir. I love you regardless of what you’ve done for me.”

“You’re my sister.”

“Yes, and I happen to think you’re smart and funny and delightfully spiteful, when you want to be. I know you’ll be as wonderful a mother as you were a sister. So, again, why wouldn’t Cristhian love that? You’re beautiful, and clearly your chemistry is through the roof. I think these are the things normal people use to determine love.”

Zia didn’t have the words to answer that. Mostly because she didn’t think Beau was wrong , per se, just...how could that apply to her? She didn’t want to delve into that. “How is Lyon treating you?”

She could practically hear Beau roll her eyes at the topic change.

“Quite well, all in all. You know, I’m glad it’s me, Zia. I should like to think that you would be so kind as to use the freedom I helped you accomplish to be happy.”

That little remark landed a bit like a slap. “Beau.”

“I have to go. Dinner waits for no crown princess and future popper-outer of heirs. I love you, Zia. For who you are. Not what you can do.”

“Beau.”

But the line went dead, and Zia was forced to face too much of her sister’s very smart words. Forced to face too many things she’d been ignoring. Yes, hoping something would come along to force her into a decision.

How utterly ridiculous for a woman who’d once fancied herself strong enough to run away from a powerful monarchy, hide away on a polar island, plan to raise her babies alone. She, who had whined about having no agency, no choice, was now...cowering in a castle? Waiting .

Hiding away from a man who said he loved her? Who wanted to marry her and raise their children, putting the children first. Not letting monarchies have any say.

Honestly, it was the most foolish thing, she could scarcely believe she’d fallen so far. Not quite sure what she was going to do about it, she marched out of her room and went in search of Cristhian.

She was shocked to find him not far away, in a room across the hall. Inside the room was...baby furniture. Two cribs. A bureau. She recognized all of it, because they were all she’d bookmarked on her phone.

He glanced up at her in the entry.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty. I thought it best we have the furniture at the very least. Beau assured me you would like these items.”

Leave it to Beau. “You’re quite right,” Zia managed though her throat had gone tight.

“I have some mock-ups of designs for decor. Apparently these things are meant to have themes. You can choose one or come up with your own.” He walked over to her, held out his phone.

On the screen was a picture of a beautifully done nursery. It was football themed. She swiped through the pictures from there. Every design offered things they had discussed before. Colors and subjects she knew she’d told him she liked.

Because he listened. Because, and maybe she did not fully understand why , he must love her. None of this was the act of a man who did not care.

She knew she had feelings for him, but she’d been trying to keep them...safe. Controllable. Because loving someone, trusting someone, had always been so...transactional with her parents. With friends. And she knew she had nothing special to offer Cristhian.

Beau was the only relationship she’d ever had that felt real, and she’d chalked that up to being twins. And maybe, if she was going to be really honest with herself, she’d even turned that into a transaction. Her protecting Beau in order to earn her love.

No, she supposed it didn’t take Psychology 101.

“I think I should like to get married,” she said.

He stood very still, his eyes even narrowing a bit as he studied her. “Why?”

She wanted to laugh. It was, somehow, the perfect response.

“Cristhian... My whole life I only wanted someone to care about me...as a person. The way you have shown that to our children has always impressed me, but it isn’t just that. You... You have taken my feelings into account. As though they matter.”

“Of course they do.”

“You say that as if you didn’t spend the first part of our time here demanding what I should do.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” He sighed, took the phone back and shoved it into his pocket before turning to face her. “And they do matter to me, Zia. They always will. I am not perfect. I suppose I have made and will make mistakes, but I will always fix them. Always.”

And she knew that he would. Or at least try to. She had compared him to her father when she’d been angry at him, but her father’s orders had never come from a place of care. They came from a place of wanting power.

That had never been Cristhian’s way. Even when he’d been controlling, it had been...to make things right. A world safe for their family. In a strange way, it was not all that different from the way she’d acted to protect Beau. Because at the end of the day, she and Cristhian wanted the same things.

The same things .

“How about today?”

“Get married? Today?”

She nodded. “I don’t want fanfare. I don’t want... anything but us. Promising each other. Because that will be all that matters. As we raise these children together, much will change. But we will believe in our promises, and I think that will make everything okay.”

He studied her for another moment. “Zia, I want to get married. I love you, but I want you to be certain. To be sure. I will marry you, if that’s what you want, but there should be love. I have always trusted my grandparents’ advice. And they have always said love is the foundation. We do not need to start with a ceremony. We can—”

“We started the second I laid eyes on you, and something inside me clicked...as if I knew. As if you were made exactly for me. And I have run from a lot in my life, but that certainty was the most confronting and frightening thing of all. Because I couldn’t protect myself on it, or martyr myself to it. And so I have spent all these months trying to convince myself I am not worthy of it.”

“Zia. You are beyond worthy.”

She didn’t know if she fully believed that just yet, but she had faith she would. Just as she had faith now that what she felt, what she had felt all along, was exactly this.

“I love you, Cristhian.” And more than the past few days of wondering, she felt so certain now. Because he’d cataloged what he loved about her, and she could so easily do the same. “Your...heart. The way you take care. Even when you are being overbearing and ridiculously heavy-handed, it is only because you are trying to do what is right, and I know too well how hard that can be. Now we can try to do right, together. Maybe leaning on each other will make it less hard.”

His mouth curved, and his smile was just like it had been at the bar that night. Charming, special, for her .

“I shall call the minister at once.”