Sebastian, the lion. The man with the most brilliant blue eyes I’ve ever seen. A man who hates me.
And Landon plans to marry me off to him.
Landon Astor…my brother.
“Are you going to give me the silent treatment all day?” Faye’s voice dips, a moment away from cracking in distress.
Or growling in frustration.
I’m not sure which, and considering all she kept from me, what she’s still keeping from me—if I count the mystery of what happened to Elise—I can’t say I care about Faye’s state of mind.
Not when my own is spinning with the revelations Landon dropped on me no more than an hour ago.
“You’ll have to talk to me eventually,” she tries again.
Ignoring her, I keep my gaze trained on the endless expanse of ocean in the distance. The French doors stand open, allowing the crisp scent of spring to filter into my new quarters in the House of Gemini.
The set of rooms Landon gave me are the most luxurious and spacious I’ve encountered in this tower. The smell of fresh paint and new upholstery hint that he had the space renovated.
To ensure the rooms are fit for a queen? Or fit for family?
“I wanted to tell you, but my mother swore me to secrecy.” Faye fidgets in the bistro-style chair across from me, sandwiches and tea untouched on the table between us. “She thought you’d hear it best from Landon.”
Now I do look at her, my eyes narrowed in disbelief. “As opposed to hearing life-altering news from my lady and best friend—someone who’s like a sister to me?”
“Landon is a figure of power and authority. She thought you’d believe him over me.”
“That’s ridiculous and you know it.”
“You’re right,” she concedes, her voice soft with defeat. “She couldn’t risk you going public with the truth. That’s why she felt the news had to come from Landon.”
“So she wants me to be passed around like a whore?”
Faye flinches. “She wants what’s best for you.”
“I find that hard to believe. Regardless of her skewed reasoning, your loyalty should have been to me.”
“I’m sorry I betrayed your trust, but I couldn’t go against my mother.”
“You’ve never had a problem with rebellion before.”
She averts her gaze, guilt flushing her cheeks, and I realize she’s still holding something back.
“What’s the real reason you kept your mouth shut?”
Hesitation pulls at her ruby-painted lips. “My mother said I could return home if I promised to deliver the journal to Landon.”
Her confession is a punch to the gut, and I struggle to breathe, to find the right words to convey the level of devastation and betrayal rushing through me right now.
“Well you kept your promise, so you’re free to go.” I wave my hand toward the door of my private quarters. “I’m relieving you of your duties as my lady.”
Faye’s lashes flutter, eyes bright with unchecked emotion. “I don’t want to leave like this.”
“Just go,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Novalee,” she pleads.
“As your queen, I command you to leave.” The order ricochets off the walls before settling between us, as impenetrable as a steel barrier.
Faye bites her lip as she rises, and the tear that slides down her cheek almost breaks through my armor. I harden my heart against the forgiveness tugging at me. Forgiveness will take time; forgetting how she withheld such momentous information will take longer.
It doesn’t matter that deep down I know she did it for love—for the chance to return to the home she misses and the one man who has her heart. Right now, I’m incapable of offering understanding, let alone empathy.
In the absence of Faye’s guilt-ridden presence, my mother’s journal calls to me from the side table where Landon left it. Uncertainty constricts my throat as I pick up the leather-bound book. Before he left Faye and me alone to talk, he asked me to read my mother’s words.
Her confession from the grave.
A huge part of me is delaying, because as soon as I read the truth, written in my mother’s beautiful penmanship, I’ll have no choice but to accept that everything I know about my childhood is a lie. Curling up in the window seat by the fireplace, I open the cover. The first entry is dated almost a year before I was born.
March 8th
It’s been a month since I’ve written. Seems like forever, but at the same time, too little time has passed. I’m not ready for this.
I’ll never be ready.
Putting everything into words is a foolish thing to do, but my heart needs to spill this burden. Edwin and I have been trying to conceive for three years, to no avail. The pressure to produce an heir has been a strain on our marriage. Even worse, it’s a threat to our country’s security.
Rowan is watching our every move, salivating at the idea that we might not produce an heir within the allotted timeframe. The man is a power-hungry narcissist. His vision for the future of our nation doesn’t align with Edwin’s. He believes a dictatorship is the only way to ensure loyalty from the people, while Edwin rules with compassion and empathy.
Too much is at stake, and that’s how I justify what we’re about to do.
Because we only have two years left to conceive, and the doctor we saw at the beginning of the year said Edwin is infertile.
I guess I should back up a bit. Our desperate solution presented itself last month at the diplomacy summit. From the moment I laid eyes on Franklin Astor, I knew he was a powerful man. The way he watched me from across the room made me uncomfortable, but there was no denying the way he commanded the space around him.
I’m not sure Edwin noticed the other man’s scrutiny, but later that night when Mr. Astor cornered us in the hall, he had my husband’s full attention.
Because Franklin Astor, this mysterious and handsome man from a small island up north, couldn’t keep his hungry eyes off of me. Then he did the unthinkable.
He offered us a proposition we couldn’t ignore—an ungodly amount of money for one night with me.
Of course, we were shocked at first, so Mr. Astor gave us his number and told us to think about it. That’s all we did that night, unable to sleep as a disturbing idea took hold in the dead of night, because there was only one thing we needed and it wasn’t more money.
The next morning, we countered with our own offer and made a deal.
That day feels like it took place a lifetime ago, but now that we’ve flown to Zodiac Island in the wee hours of the morning out of a necessity for discretion, our decision is much too real. Dread and self-loathing fill my stomach as I write this, because we’re doing this.
And once we do, there’s no going back.
The date’s entry stops there, and I set aside the journal as I process what my mother wrote. A sense of relief storms through me, because at least she didn’t have a secret affair behind my father’s back. He was complicit in the affair, an accomplice to the illicitness of it.
They did it for our country.
They did it to produce an heir.
And I wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t.
With a deep breath, I pick up the journal and turn to the next page.
March 9th
I’ve done things in my life that have inspired a sense of shame, regardless of whether it was warranted. Nothing will ever compare to the cloak of shame that shrouds me now. I deserve it, and though part of me knows it isn’t fair, I deserve the disappointment in Edwin’s eyes too.
Because now there’s a secret between us, an “incident” we both agreed we wouldn’t discuss. Ever.
I’m not allowed to tell him the details of what happened in Franklin Astor’s private quarters. The memory of his hands on my breasts, his mouth between my thighs, the fullness of him inside me are secrets I’ll carry with me to my grave.
That was the pact Edwin and I made.
We’re on our way home now, and the silence between us is heartbreaking. I have faith we’ll find a way through this together, after some time has passed.
But what if I didn’t conceive?
What if we have to make the decision to go back next month and try again?
The next several entries are a chronicle of how my parents worked through their decision to bring a third person into their bedroom. Though to be accurate, the bedroom belonged to Franklin Astor. For the weeks following that night, resentment and disappointment festered because the gamble didn’t produce the results they prayed for. My mother didn’t get pregnant.
But I wouldn’t be here today if they hadn’t gone back and tried again.
Time runs away from me as I become immersed in the pages, shocked to my core as the truth unfolds. My mother spent two more nights with Franklin Astor before she conceived, and in exchange for his contractual agreement to relinquish all parental rights to my parents, my mother agreed to visit his bed once a year until he no longer wished for her to do so.
Reaching the end of the journal, I close it and set it back on the table. The call of seagulls drift into the room, but otherwise it’s utterly quiet. I sit, unmoving, fighting tears as I wrap my head around everything I learned today. I don’t want to believe it, but my mother’s words are indisputable evidence.
Edwin Van Buren was not my biological father.
A soft knock startles me from my stupor, and I lift my head as Liam steps into the sitting room. He closes the distance but stops before coming within touching distance, and I can’t ignore the awkwardness between us after the way we left things the last time I saw him, when he forbade me from touching myself.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine.” The lie rolls off my tongue without hesitation, and a small ping of regret arrows through my heart. Lying to Liam Castle isn’t something I want to do, but I don’t have a choice.
With a sigh, he takes a step closer. “You don’t seem fine. Faye didn’t, either. She just left the island.”
I knew she’d leave, but hearing confirmation hurts more than I thought it would. “She wasn’t happy here, so I relieved her of her duties.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I know how close the two of you are.”
“I appreciate your use of the present tense.” For the first time since discovering her betrayal, a niggle of forgiveness aches in my chest, and I blink, sending a bitter tear down my cheek. Before I know it, they’re escaping my eyes like a faucet with a constant drip. “I could use your arms right now. Is that against the rules?”
“Fuck the rules, Novalee.” He reaches for me, and I launch into his embrace, sucking in a deep, satisfying breath as his arms tighten around me.
“It’s been an emotional day.” I tilt my chin up, and he keeps me in check by cradling my cheeks.
“Novalee.” My name is a simple plea, because he knows what I want—the haze in his brown eyes deepen as they focus on my lips. “I’m dying to kiss you, trust me on this, but I’d better not push it.”
“Does Landon know you’re here?”
“Yes. He took Faye to the airstrip. He’s also picking up Elise.” He searches my face, his thumbs brushing the sensitive spots under my ears. “I wasn’t aware she left the island. He mentioned she had a family matter to tend to?”
He knows more about Elise’s absence than I do, but I nod anyway. “I don’t know all the details yet. I’m eager to see her. It’s been a month.”
“I know this past month hasn’t been easy on you.” The inches between us disappear, and our mouths linger, too close to touching. “But you made it through, my sweet girl. You’re stronger than I gave you credit for.”
“I’ve had to be strong.” Life started testing the strength of my character at age twelve.
His lips tempt me forward, and I slide my hands along his jaw, fingertips caressing the trimmed beard on his cheeks. Before I can taste him, he backs away, reluctance straining his features. “I’m going to go before I do something foolish, but I’ll talk to Landon about carving out some time with you this month.” A brief kiss on my cheek is the only goodbye I get.
As the chancellor leaves my quarters, a spark of hope ignites in my chest until I remember Landon’s intentions for my future. Because if he intends to marry me off to Sebastian, I can’t imagine he’ll give Liam permission to see me, let alone touch me.