I look up, meeting her eyes even though it’s painful.
Amalia presses her lips together, and moisture glistens near her eyelashes. She looks away, refusing to hold my gaze.
“At first, I justified it as doing a duty to my kingdom. And then—”
“And then what?” she interrupts, sharply looking back at me.
Slowly, I rise. Amalia eyes me warily as I close the space between us. I stop just before I’m near enough to reach for her.
“And then you were you.” I clutch my fist over my heart. “And everything became twisted. My noble purpose—this duty I accepted for the good of my kingdom—somehow turned me into a villain. And the more I got to know you…the more conflicted I became.”
“Conflicted?” She narrows her eyes. “Conflicted?”
“I love you,” I say without hesitation. “And though an apology means little now, I am truly sorry I didn’t confess to you sooner. I was never toying with you, Amalia.”
She stares at me, processing my apology.
Encouraged by her lack of response, I continue, “I tried to keep you out of Draegan—you know I did. And when I said I would marry you to keep you safe, it was because I couldn’t bear to lose you. Not then, not now. So please, yell at me. Take your anger out on me—we both know I deserve it. But I beg you…no more talk of marrying Edwin.”
Amalia stares at me, her face impassive. Her eyes, however, are at odds with that cool expression. A hundred emotions dance in their depths.
I grow cold as I wait for her to answer, and raw fear makes me tense.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she finally breathes. “Why?”
She draws in a shaking breath, looking like a woman about to crumple.
“Do you have any idea how betrayed I feel?” She angrily dabs at her eyes with the tips of her fingers. “I trusted you—completely, stupidly. Even when doubt tried to creep in, and believe me, it did.”
Unable to stay away any longer, I wrap my arms around Amalia and pull her against me.
She fists her hand and beats it against my chest several times before she stops fighting. Her shoulders shake, and I close my eyes, hating myself.
“I have no choice, Rhys.” Amalia clutches my doublet as if she’s trying to muster up the courage to push me away. “If I don’t marry Edwin, everything will die. I’ve had nothing but time these last few days to think about my selfish choices as I stare out the window at your destroyed kingdom.”
“Amalia—”
“No matter how I feel about you, or how you feel about me—whether you betrayed me or not—we can’t be together. And now…” She hits me again, but there’s no heat behind it. “And now you’ve made it so difficult. Why couldn’t you have stayed away?”
“Amalia,” I say again, clearing my throat. “There’s…more.”
Looking as if it’s the last thing she wants to hear, she reluctantly says, “What?”
“Do you remember when I said the fairy told me things you couldn’t yet know?”
Amalia narrows her eyes. “Yes…”
“Edwin is not my father’s son.”
She stares at me. “He’s…not?”
“No.”
“But that would make you…” She looks away, thinking too hard. Then with a gasp, she says, “That makes you…him.”
“I am the true heir to Draegan’s throne,” I confirm.
“You knew?” she hisses. “All this time, I’ve been in agony, believing we were going to destroy everything, and you’ve known?”
“I haven’t confirmed it,” I say uneasily. “But…it explains the forest. And the bay…”
“Don’t forget about the sea,” she deadpans.
I give her a helpless shrug.
“I fell in love with the vile prince of Draegan, and I didn’t even know it,” she mutters. “I really am a fool.”
I try to hide my smile, but it ghosts across my face without my permission.
She pins me with her eyes. “I haven’t forgiven you yet.”
I extend my hands in surrender, letting her go. “I know.”
“I’m not sure I’m going to,” she adds, but we both know it’s a bluff. Amalia then presses a hand over her mouth, looking as if my confession is overwhelming. “It’s you.”
“It’s me,” I whisper.
“Rhys.” She suddenly steps into me, wrapping her arms around my waist and burying her face against my shoulder.
She takes me so by surprise, I freeze. After a moment, I come to my senses and loop my arms around her back.
Her tears become ones of relief, and they almost do me in. I hold her fiercely, silently vowing I will never hurt her like this again. From this moment on, I will be the man she deserves.
With her voice muffled against the fabric of my doublet, Amalia tightens her hold on me. “Don’t misunderstand—I’m still angry.”
“I know,” I murmur against her hair, so grateful she’s in my arms.
“You should have told me.”
Solemnly, I nod. “I should have.”
Unfortunately, there’s one last secret to divulge. As I hold her, I argue with myself. Should I confess it now?
Amalia is already angry, but she’s almost forgiven me. Can this wait?
Yet withholding information is what got me into this dark pit.
“There’s one more thing,” I reluctantly admit.
“Is it something I must know?” Amalia asks with a groan. “I’m not sure I can take anything else.”
Steeling myself, I take a bolstering breath. “I’m afraid so.”
“Fine.” She steps back, crossing her arms once more as if to prepare herself. “What is it?”
I edge away—out of slapping distance—and attempt an apologetic smile. “My men and I…we were the ones who kidnapped Braeton.”
Amalia’s expression turns to stone.
“For that, I’m sorry as well.”
Amalia glances around the room as if she’s looking for a weapon—or at the very least, something heavy to throw at my head. “Get out.”
“Amalia…”
“Out!” she snarls.
I pause by the door. “That’s everything. No more secrets.”
“Rhys!”
Quickly, I step out the door, closing it just in time to hear something heavy thud against the other side.
Devin glances over, startled. “I see that went well.”
I can’t hide my smile. “To be honest, it went better than I expected.”
The guard looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I don’t care.
Amalia and I will be all right eventually.
4
“Hello, Cassia,” Rhys says, answering the door that leads into his quarters. “Are you here to mock me like Tryndon, or will you take my side?”
“I want to meet your wife,” I say as soon as I step into the room, avoiding the question. “Just because she’s angry with you doesn’t mean she must hate me.”
“If she’s angry with me, why would she want to meet you?” Rhys counters, and then his tone hardens. “And who told you she was my wife?”