Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

L YON HAD NOT accounted for wanting his wife. It was a strange and disconcerting turn of events. He was a careful planner, and while all his life there'd been a certain level of flexibility required of him, he usually considered every angle before jumping into something.

It had become apparent, as Beau had walked down the aisle toward him, that he had not considered every angle. Because he'd been struck with the strangest feeling that his world had begun right in that moment.

Which he'd quickly flicked away, a pointless thought no doubt brought upon by the stress of the past few months. First, the knowledge Zia would not be marrying him, and then Beaugonia's alternative plan.

He had been relieved to have a plan, a way out of the folly he'd made for himself. It had never once over the months of dealing with Beaugonia occurred to him that Zia's hidden sister might be...interesting. Or beautiful.

He had always had to be careful when it came to women. He'd known, even before he'd been crowned prince, that being ruler was the end goal, and there could be no whispers about him that might hurt that eventuality.

He had watched the more wild and reckless members of his mother's family nearly destroy everything, all for a bit of fun here or there. He'd never understood them.

He had always found it easy to create short, respectable relationships with women, always knowing that he was looking for the perfect princess—above reproach. And when he had not found it, made sure he ended such situations with tact and kindness.

Any errant thoughts about needs, wants, or desires were to be ignored, cut off, shut away.

But now, he wasn't quite certain he understood himself. Or at least his reaction to Beaugonia. Prim and direct at turns. Shy, but not...hiding. The hazel of her eyes was a mysterious blend of colors that seemed to change in the light, with her feelings, or the color she was wearing.

Not that he couldn't handle this unexpected reaction, because of course he could. It was just new , and thus a little...concerning. He would need to reassess. Go about this entire thing a little differently perhaps.

Because they would need to broach the physical requirements of creating an heir, regardless of how he felt about her. He would need to make certain that he was in charge of this unexpected situation of being far more intrigued by her than he wanted to be.

Luckily, she also wasn't immune to him. He'd seen the way she'd watched him, particularly when she'd returned to the room when he'd been unbuttoning his stifling shirt and trying to breathe past all that...new uncertainty combined with the old anxieties of never quite living up to the expectation held for him.

It was a positive , he assured himself as he lay in bed next to her in the dark. Plenty of room between them in his very large bed. Her even breathing filling the room.

He hadn't been lying about his hope that the arrangement would be pleasing. If there was some chemistry, the necessities of their arrangement could be enjoyable.

As long as it wasn't complicated. As long as it wasn't...he shoved that thought away, but complicated lingered, keeping him up all night. He stared at the ceiling, hard and beyond irritated with himself for not being fully prepared for a beautiful, interesting person to now be his lawfully wedded bride.

He needed a new plan. They had hashed out a very clear agreement, but he needed to make certain the realities of their situation didn't undermine said agreement.

He didn't think ground rules were the way to go with her. There was a little spark of something in her—not rebellion, that wouldn't do. Just a very assured sense of self that exuded from her every action, every word.

The woman who had approached him via email a few months ago with news his engagement to Zia would not go through had a very clear determination of how her life would go. It was what had first intrigued him about her offer. The only reason he'd held out on agreeing for so long was because she had refused to meet prior to the wedding.

But she'd systematically and carefully outlined her plan, and he had no choice but to accept the fact that it matched up perfectly with his own. That she offered him more than Zia had, because neither of them would have to pretend.

Except, he had a terrible feeling he was going to have to pretend now, because she was not the icy hermit he'd been expecting.

But he was a married man now. His plan to ensure the crown stayed stable was moving as it should. His internal thoughts and unexpected feelings wouldn't change that.

He wouldn't allow it.

He would simply get to know his new bride. Engage in that which producing heirs required. And ensure whatever odd sensations plagued him, he was always in control of them rather than the other way around.

As the sun rose, glowing between the gap in the drapes, Lyon carefully slid out of bed and went to the bathroom to shower and try to clear his mind.

It was good, really. To face a challenge that made him sharper and sounder of mind. If things got too easy, he might get complacent and that would never do. His entire rule would no doubt be an exercise in fighting to regain all the control his great-uncles, uncles and cousin had pissed away for the past decades.

Until all that was left was him. Until the entire future of Divio rested on his shoulders. He dressed, though he kept his tie loose for the moment. He told himself he was full of all that determination that had grown shaky after the ceremony.

Until he returned to the bedroom.

She was sitting up in the bed, her cheeks a little flushed from sleep and her dark hair tousled as if he'd had his hands in it last night, just as he'd desired.

She yawned and stretched, looking perfectly...

Well, it wouldn't do to look too hard.

"Good morning," he offered, moving stiffly toward the window. He pulled the curtains back to a bright, snowy day below. He tried to imagine all that cold encasing him. "Today I will give you a tour of the castle, answer any questions you have. The announcement and pictures from last night will go out soon, and we'll host a dinner this evening. Then afterward we will film a short video that will go out to news outlets."

"Sounds perfect. I'll just go get ready."

He did not dare look at her even as he heard the rustle of sheets and the soft landing of footfall. He kept his gaze on the window, on the mountains, on all that ice .

When she returned, he allowed himself to look at her. She wore slacks with enough swishy fabric not to give much away about the shape of her legs. The dark green sweater she wore was a little more formfitting, but only a little. She looked elegant but cozy. Perfect for the morning ahead.

Because she was perfect. "Let us take a little tour on our way down to breakfast," he said, and then began to lead her out of his suite.

It was better in the daylight, he decided. Other things to focus on. Movement . Certainly not darkness and listening to her breathe and shift in her sleep. Not hours stretching out in front of him where he couldn't help but think of the way she'd looked when she'd just woken up.

He told her what every door was as they passed. Some he let her peek her head into, some they merely walked by.

"You can of course request to make any changes to our rooms you'd like. It will have to go through Mr. Filini, the head castle master, and myself, but as long as it's reasonable, there should be no problems."

"I doubt very much I'll have any changes."

He didn't know why that settled in him as an annoyance. He shouldn't want a wife who wanted frivolous changes when his entire goal was to make certain everyone in Divio looked at him and thought stability . Strength. Certainty.

He came to the last door before the staircase and held it open, gesturing her inside.

Her eyes lit up. Admittedly, the reaction he'd been hoping for. She moved forward, reaching out to touch the spines of a row of books. For a moment, she looked around at the shelves and shelves of books—old ones, new ones. Some ancient and passed down from generation to generation, some his own additions.

"It's the most beautiful room I've ever seen," she finally said, breaking the silence. She beamed at him and a warmth of satisfaction settled in his chest.

Perhaps there were some complicated reactions he hadn't anticipated, but a woman who was bowled over by a library was certainly not a bad choice.

"You may of course make any additions you'd like. Your personal assistant will order any book for you."

"But you already have so many."

"No one can have too many books. And no collection should be so rigid so as not to allow entertainment that many users might enjoy."

"My father did not agree," she said, perusing the books. "The books I wanted to read, I often had to sneak read digitally through my phone. Which was fine enough, but I always wanted something..." She trailed off, then shrugged, gesturing at the room around them.

Lyon was no fan of King Rendall. The man was a supercilious braggart who used force more than intellect to impose his will on others. Lyon could admit to himself that part of Beau's proposition had been intriguing simply for getting around the king while still uniting Divio with Lille. And he felt that satisfaction again, because a man who imposed limits on reading was no leader.

"Did you always get around your father?"

"Not always," she said, a kind of carefulness about her. She did not meet his gaze. She focused on the books. "But when I could. When Zia and I could. But that makes it sound all bad, and it is not that. He simply cared more about his country than he ever did his children."

Lyon frowned. She did not say it in a censuring way, but he felt slightly...judged all the same. After all, he knew she did not hold her father in high regard, and neither did he.

But Lyon's priority was his kingdom, and he had made that clear. He had to offer his country stability for once, and with that priority came children who would fill their role as heirs. He had never really thought of them as more than that.

But they would be people. Like him. Like Beau.

He didn't like how...complicated that made the future feel. Because the future was simple. They would be the crown prince and princess of Divio and raise children to take their place, and bring Lille into the fold on the death of the current king.

But thought of heirs brought him back to the one clear answer he had not gotten from her. The one that left his mother still having trepidation about their arrangement.

Whatever the reason she had not been the heir did not matter. The deal was done. They were married. He would not let it matter.

But it was best if he knew before he introduced her to the kingdom of Divio as their princess.

"You're the older twin. You should have been the heir. Is that not correct?"

She shook her head, as though not at all surprised by the change in topic. "That is not how Lille has worked for some time. It was always going to be my father's decision which of his children he wanted as heir. Zia was...better suited. From a young age."

"Why?" He had not asked her this outright, though they had both danced around the subject in their correspondence as they'd worked out the details of their agreement. In the end, Lyon had accepted what she offered was more important than whatever she might be hiding.

He could only hope his instincts had not led him astray.

"When I was very little, before I even fully remember, I found crowds very...scary. I would do all right if I could hide behind Zia, or if I was simply speaking with someone one-on-one, but crowds terrified me. Understandable, I think, but not the best reaction for a princess. Zia, on the other hand, always knew what to say, how to smile and act, even as a toddler. I struggled with this until I was much older. But by that time, I was already defined by my behavior as a child." She didn't look at him as she delivered any of this information. She focused on the books. Then she pulled one off the shelf.

"May I take this one to our room?" she asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.

He shouldn't let her change the topic, as it felt like there were details she was leaving out, but it was still her first day as his wife. He could be kind and patient. "They are your books as much as mine, Beau. You may do what you like."

Her smile was pretty, a little shy. But it dimmed a little when he reached for the book she held. With clear reluctance, she relinquished it to him.

He studied the cover, then flipped it over to the back. "A romance?"

"My favorite. Don't worry. It's not an indictment on my hopes for the future or a romantic nature of myself."

He found himself puzzled, both that she felt the need to preface her statement with don't worry and... "Why do you enjoy them then if there's no romantic nature involved?"

She looked at the book in her hand. "As much as I enjoy a good love story, the thing that has always struck me about these types of books is that the main character always finds people who understand them and make them feel...seen. Not just a romantic partner. But friends or family. It's...nice. I like to read about things that make me feel good."

Seen . An interesting way of looking at it, he supposed. He, on the other hand, did not wish to be seen at all. But if she did... Well, he would make a point of it.

"Why don't you pick out a book for me to read. Something that would allow us to have a conversation. A book that would help me get to know you."

She looked at him for a moment as if he'd suggested she take off all her clothes and run through the castle naked. Then she looked around. "I think it will take me a while to decide what book that should be and determine if you have it."

Lyon nodded. "Well, if we do not, we'll have it ordered." He glanced at his watch. "We should make our way to breakfast." He moved to lead her out of the library, but she put her hand on his arm to stop him.

"But wait. What book would I read to understand you?"

He liked it better that she said understand , rather than seen . Understand he could do. He took a turn about the library. The options were endless. He'd always been a reader, and so many different books had helped shape him into who he was. But he supposed at the center of even his interest in reading was the man he wanted to be. He slid an old tome off a shelf and handed it to her.

She took it, studied the cover, then wrinkled her nose. "A family biography."

"Perhaps a bit dry, I grant you, but that is who I am. Who I hope to be. An extension of the legacy built in these pages. A legacy you are now a part of."

She took a long, careful inhale. "I suppose I hadn't thought of it that way."

"You will be the mother of the future crown prince or princess."

She didn't look up from the book, so he couldn't quite read her expression, but when she finally met his gaze, she smiled. "I think I shall quite like to belong to something."

And he wasn't quite sure why his chest felt...oddly constricted. But he smiled back, and led her to breakfast, ignoring the unknown feeling lurking there.