United By Their Royal Baby

Granted, Helene had married into the royal family of Aidara, and hadn’t been Aidaraen herself. When Leyna was feeling sympathetic towards her mother, she thought it must have been hard for Helene to stay in the place where her heart had been broken.

But those times were rare, and quickly followed by the reminder that Helene had left her daughter to fend for herself in the hardest job in the world. Without any support.

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means exactly what I said. Marriages don’t last for ever. You know that better than anyone.’

‘Leave Erika out of this,’ Xavier nearly growled, and Leyna’s bitterness meshed with jealousy.

‘You’re the one bringing her into this,’ she said lightly. Carefully. ‘I wasn’t talking about your marriage—I meant the institution, not your spouse.’

She gave him time to process—though, if she were honest with herself, it was more for her to find her own control again.

‘What are you suggesting, Leyna?’

‘Only that marriage is not enough to secure an alliance. Especially a precarious one.’

‘So what do you want then? A child?’ he asked sarcastically.

She’d had a nippy reply on the tip of her tongue that disappeared the moment her mind processed his words. There was something in that, she thought. But, for the life of her, she couldn’t wade through the flood of emotions his suggestion had released to identify what that something was.

But, because she had to, she struggled through it. Through the hope that came from a dream she’d given up on a long time ago. Of being a family with Xavier. Of having children with him.

Through the sadness that had come with the realisation that that would never happen. Through the resentment that she would still have to carry a child—with some man who would be her husband though she would never love him—for the sake of the crown.

And again, through the resentment that she’d given up her dreams for the crown.

And then again, through the hope that maybe duty would make that dream come true after all.

‘It’s not a real option,’ Xavier interrupted her thoughts. Her gaze moved to his and held, sparks she would never admit aloud still flying between them.

‘Unless it is.’

‘How would that possibly improve the situation with Zacchaeus?’

‘For the reasons you outlined. Except now we don’t only have the marriage backing our alliance, but a child as well. Which would mean that even if something happens to one of us, Aidara and Mattan would still be protected by the other.’

‘Mattan would take care of Aidara if anything happened to you,’ Xavier answered stiffly.

‘Even if that’s true, whoever I marry would need to give me a child. An heir to the Aidaraen throne. You know that,’ she told him, and saw the confirmation of it in his eyes. ‘The same goes for you. There’ll need to be a child for the Mattanian throne, too. And you can’t deny the political power in having one child as an heir to both kingdoms’ thrones.’

Xavier ran a hand through his dark hair, giving her a glimpse of the lighter streaks that she knew showed when it wasn’t styled so precisely. It made the colour of his skin, which spoke of the mixed African and European heritage they both had, look like a tan. As though he had lazily picked one up on holiday instead of from the work he did amongst his citizens.

But anyone who knew Xavier couldn’t deny he was a king. Leyna had always thought he looked exactly as a king should—authoritative, uncompromising, powerful. Only she had been privy to the other side of him when they’d been growing up. The easy, laidback man who’d relaxed on the beach with her and would casually hold her hand as they walked through the gardens.

It felt like a punishment that she no longer saw that Xavier. No, now she, too, experienced only that authoritative, uncompromising and powerful side of King Xavier.

Just as everyone else did.

But could she blame him?

‘Let me see if I understand this,’ Xavier said. ‘You think that if we marry it won’t be enough to strengthen the alliance between Aidara and Mattan on the off-chance something might happen to one of us. So you want to have a child to make sure that if something happens, our kingdoms will still be protected because there is a single heir to both our thrones?’

‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘And don’t be so dismissive of the possibility of something happening to one of us. We’ve both seen people we love die younger than they should have. It is a possibility.’ She gave him a chance to process before continuing. ‘A child gives us assurances in both cases. If something happens and if it doesn’t, because there’s no way Kirtida can misinterpret marriage and an heir. There’s also no better way to strengthen the alliance.’

‘That might be true, except for one little thing.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t give you a child.’

Chapter Two

XAVIER WATCHED THE shock in her eyes disappear behind the curtain that hid all her emotions. The emotions he’d once been able to read as easily as he did his favourite books.

‘What does that mean?’ Leyna asked softly. He wanted to tell her—would have, had it been ten years before—but he couldn’t bring himself to say that he was infertile. The fact that he’d alluded to it at all told him how much she shook him.

And how much he wanted to shake her.

How much he wanted to crack that perfectly logical, reasonable veneer she wore like a shield.

‘It means there are cracks in that perfect plan of yours. And it’s all a little...desperate.’

‘You were the one who brought it up,’ she shot back, reminding him of yet another of his slips. ‘And yes, a child is desperate, but aren’t we in a desperate situation?’

‘So, you’re saying desperate times call for desperate measures?’

‘If you’d like to use that cliché to help you understand it, then yes.’

‘And how would we conceive this child?’ He knew he wasn’t asking it because of his fertility problems but, again, because he found himself wanting to pierce through that cold facade. ‘Should I stay after the banquet for us to get...reacquainted?’

He hated how bitter he sounded—worse still, how the bitterness had made him more vulgar than he’d intended. He watched her honey-coloured skin go pale, and felt the satisfaction of it just as acutely as he felt the shame.

Her lack of colour made the golden-brown of her hair—the green of her eyes—all the more striking. And if he added the gold dress she wore, which clung to her curves in a way that made him forget she was a queen...

She wasn’t the delicate Princess from their youth any more, he thought. Though her face still had its slight angles and there were still freckles lightly spread over her nose, the woman who had laughed with him in the waters that separated their islands—the woman who’d once agreed to marry him—was gone.

The woman who stood in front of him now had a realism in her eyes that sent an ache through his body. The light that had always been there had been dimmed by whatever she’d gone through in the ten years since they’d been close. There was power, more authority, too. She’d changed, he knew.

But then, so had he.

‘It won’t work,’ she told him, colour flooding her skin again. ‘I know you’re trying to shake me, but it won’t work.’

‘Won’t it?’ he asked, taking a step towards her. Her eyes widened, and awareness sizzled through his body. He’d loved those eyes once. They’d told him everything he needed to know. And though there were many less disturbing memories to choose from, his mind offered him the day Leyna had agreed to marry him.

Her eyes had shone with a love he hadn’t thought capable of hurting him the way it—the way she—had. And then there had been the desire in her eyes a few moments later. When he’d had her against a tree. She’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her, but there had been fear, uncertainty, too.

He saw those emotions in her eyes again now. And it made him wonder whether they were caused by the same reason. That she’d never been with a man before. The thought stirred a mess of emotions in his chest that he didn’t want to think about. Though there was one thing he couldn’t ignore, and that was the fact that he still wanted her, regardless of what the answer to that question was.

It shocked him into stepping back.

‘No, it won’t,’ she said, and he heard the breathiness she tried to mask. ‘Because we both have kingdoms to think about. Unless you’ve forgotten that’s the real reason for all of this?’

She was right, he thought. He needed to think about his kingdom. And that meant he couldn’t deny her suggestion had merit. If he pushed all his feelings about it aside, he could recognise the strength and subsequent protection a marriage and child would offer Mattan.

He was also sure his family would approve. Sure, they’d treated his relationship with Leyna as an indulgence in the past. Mostly because they couldn’t deny how beneficial a union between him and Leyna—between Mattan and Aidara—would have been. But the moment they’d realised that wouldn’t be happening, they’d told him to snap out of it. To think of his kingdom.

Since that was what drove him now, too, he knew they would approve. And since the man he and Leyna had grown up with no longer seemed to exist in Zacchaeus, Xavier was forced to face that this might be their only option.

Which meant he needed to tell her the truth of his fertility problems.

The thought had him heading straight to the alcohol decanter next to her desk. He flipped over two glasses, and poured a splash of the brown liquid into each. He offered her one and, when she took it, downed his own. He would have liked another, but that wouldn’t have been wise considering what he was in Aidara to do. Or what he was about to say.

‘I can’t have children.’

He set the glass back in its tray. It gave him a reason to avoid the emotion on her face.

‘You...’ Her voice faded. ‘I’m so sorry, Xavier.’

‘I’ve accepted it.’

‘How...how do you know?’

‘I was married, Leyna,’ he reminded her, and saw hurt pass over her face so quickly he didn’t know what to think about it. So he continued. ‘Erika and I tried to have children before she died. We could never conceive.’

‘That must have been terrible for you...and Erika. I’m sorry.’

Emotion churned inside him. Erika had been devastated by their battle to have children. And when they’d found out that there was no medical reason why they couldn’t, she’d turned angry.

By then, she’d learnt that the allure of marrying a king had only been in her imagination. That the reality of it was far more demanding—and sometimes more demeaning—than she’d wanted.

Would she still have felt the same if she’d become a mother?

He never gave himself the permission to consider it. All he knew was that the only thing that had kept Erika committed to being Queen had been the prospect of a child. And when that hadn’t happened she had become more and more withdrawn. And he’d felt more and more guilty. Because though there’d been no proof that it was him, it had to be.

‘Why not? Why can’t you have children?’ Leyna’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

‘We tried and we didn’t conceive.’

‘Yes, you said that.’ She frowned. ‘That doesn’t mean you were the reason you couldn’t conceive.’

‘It wasn’t Erika’s fault,’ he said sharply.

‘I wasn’t saying that it was. But there is such a thing as unexplained infertility.’

It was what the doctor had told them, too. But, as someone who’d needed answers, Xavier hadn’t been happy with that. Neither had Erika. So he’d accepted the blame for it.

‘So there’s no medical reason that you can’t conceive?’

He clenched his jaw. ‘No.’

‘Then we still have a chance.’

‘I must have missed this unfeeling side of you when we were friends.’

He saw her flinch, but her voice was steady. ‘The reality of our lives—of our duty—doesn’t always allow us to feel, Xavier.’

‘Is that how we’ll conceive this child then? Without feeling?’

‘Why not?’

‘You have to have some kind of feeling to conceive a child, Leyna.’

‘Perhaps, if you want to do it naturally.’ She raised an eyebrow—taunting him, he knew, with the insinuation. ‘But, since this is going to be a contract, I think we should consider other options. To keep things...official.’

Relief and disappointment mingled in his chest. ‘You mean artificial insemination?’

‘Or IVF.’

‘It would take time we might not have.’

‘Which is why we should do it as soon as possible.’

With each word, his heart grew heavier. It weighed down his response so that, although he knew she was right, he couldn’t bring himself to agree. Agreeing would mean that the distance he’d sought from her for ten years would be destroyed. It would bring back all the feelings he’d avoided thinking about since Erika had died. Feelings of failure, of heartbreak.

And if he agreed to marry Leyna he knew he would feel as though he was being disloyal to Erika. Worse still, if it worked and Leyna fell pregnant, he would feel as though he’d betrayed Erika. He’d be living the life she’d once accused him of always wanting.

He wasn’t sure he could live with that guilt.

‘Do you agree, Xavier?’

‘Does it matter? You seem to have everything neatly planned anyway.’

‘Neatly?’ she repeated, disbelief in her voice. ‘This is probably the least neat thing I’ve ever planned, Xavier. Do you think I want to be married to you, to carry your child?’

‘Well, if it’s such a burden then—’

‘Stop it,’ she snapped, anger turning her cheeks red. ‘Our lives are filled with burdens. They’re called responsibilities. They’re a part of our duty.’ He saw her chest heave, revealing the passion with which she spoke her words. ‘Duty comes first, Xavier. It always has and it always will. This plan I’ve so neatly outlined is going to require sacrifices from the both of us, and it won’t be pleasant. In fact, I’m pretty sure it might destroy me.’

Her eyes widened and she turned away from him. It had been her first real show of emotion—proper, spontaneous emotion that told him the veneer of aloofness had been cracked. It had surprised her and, though he’d wanted to crack that shield, it had surprised him, too.

He didn’t know what to make of her words. What would destroy her? Working with him? Being married to him? Carrying his child? Was she just as affected as he was by the prospect that this decision would make them share their lives in the way they’d always imagined? Or was it because the circumstances of this life together were nothing like they’d imagined, ensuring that this decision would make their lives infinitely more complicated?

‘Perhaps there’s a simpler solution,’ he said suddenly, his thoughts turning him desperate.

‘There is no simple solution for us. For this,’ she said, turning back to him. Her eyes were bright, troubled, and he wanted to reach out and comfort her. But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t know her any more. Comforting her wasn’t his job.

‘Duty is never simple,’ he said mockingly. But she responded seriously.

‘No, it isn’t. It will never be simple for us, nor will it ever be simple between us.’

It was the first time she’d made any kind of mention of their past, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. So he didn’t respond, instead letting the silence stretch. He felt it build, felt the tension pulse from both of them.

It made him want to ask her why she’d done it. Why she’d broken his heart. Why she’d broken them. It made him want to tell her how long he’d been broken. How he’d still had to pick up the pieces in the first years of his marriage to Erika. How that had started the cracks that had eventually broken him and Erika, too.

‘We can try to set up a meeting with Zacchaeus one more time,’ she said, breaking the silence.

‘You know that won’t work.’

‘Then we move on to Plan B.’

‘Marriage and a child?’

‘Marriage and a child,’ she confirmed.

‘We don’t have the luxury of time here,’ Xavier said quietly. ‘If Zacchaeus decides to attack either of us, our kingdoms will be helpless to stop him.’

‘One more attempt at diplomacy, and then we move on to Plan B, Xavier,’ Leyna said again. ‘Now, we should get back before they realise we’re gone.’

She set the glass down, its contents untouched, and walked out of the room before he could reply.

Chapter Three

LEYNA HAD HAD to leave the room—to escape Xavier’s company before she said something she regretted.

She already regretted too much of that conversation. That burst of emotion had reminded her of the woman she’d once been. The woman who’d died long ago. She needed to remind herself that the Leyna who’d let emotion guide her was gone. She had to be led by logic and reason. By the needs of her kingdom.

Because she was terrified of what would happen to her—inside of her—if she didn’t.

Her steps faltered. Her heart stuttered. Hurt pushed at the wall she’d hidden it behind. She closed her eyes, gave herself a moment. And then she straightened her shoulders and pushed ahead, forcing it all out of her mind as she walked into the hall.

Her royal duties required her attention.

Each year one of the islands in the Alliance of the Three Isles hosted the State Banquet to affirm their ties with other countries. There were thirty dignitaries there that evening and, considering the Isles’ geographical location, many of them were from Africa. The others were European, who, in honour of the three British men who’d found the islands with their African wives at the end of the eighteenth century, kept their ties with the Isles.

Leyna mingled, moving from the King of Spain to the King of Swaziland, and then to the delegation from South Africa. Before she knew it, dinner had been announced. She walked to the head of the table, her stomach turning when she saw Xavier. It wasn’t a surprise—it was custom that the monarchs of the Isles sit there—so she forced her feelings at seeing his blank expression aside and thought again of her duty.

She touched Xavier’s arm before he could take his seat.

‘We can’t have an empty seat at the head of the table. It would make Zacchaeus’ absence more conspicuous, and I won’t be able to field questions as easily if it’s staring our guests in the face. Someone has to sit in Kirtida’s place.’

He frowned down at her, but nodded. ‘Aidaraen?’

She shook her head. ‘My grandmother is the only one from Aidara who would be appropriate, and she—’ She no longer seems to think she needs to support her kingdom when she doesn’t approve of its queen. ‘She isn’t here. Can you ask someone from your family?’

‘My grandmother,’ he said immediately, but she could sense his reluctance. So things hadn’t got better in the ten years they’d grown apart, she thought. ‘She’d be the best option, considering my mother couldn’t be here tonight.’ His mother was ill, Leyna remembered. ‘Please excuse me.’

Formality—distance—lined his words. But it was for the best, she told herself, and hated the ache in her chest that said otherwise.

A few minutes later, Xavier returned with a graceful older woman at his side. Envy slithered its way through her before she shook it off. It was natural to envy the grace and poise the former Queen Consort of Mattan carried effortlessly with her. But envy was not a trait Leyna wanted to have as a queen, nor as a woman.

‘Your Majesty,’ Leyna said and curtsied.

‘Let’s not waste time with the formalities, Leyna.’ Xavier’s grandmother brushed kisses on both Leyna’s cheeks, and Leyna found her lips curving.

‘It’s lovely to see you, ma’am.’

The older woman sighed. ‘I recall you using that term years ago. But perhaps now we’ve reached the point where we can both use each other’s first names. Paulina will do. And don’t you dare refuse.’

Paulina lifted a hand to wave off Leyna’s response, and Leyna nodded.

‘As you wish... Paulina.’

Though she got an approving smile from Paulina, the name felt wrong on Leyna’s lips. To deal with it, Leyna made a point of avoiding addressing Paulina by name. She received a few looks that told her Paulina knew what she was doing, but Leyna just smiled in return and moved onto the next topic. Conversations were easy for her. Except when they were with former best friends—fiancés—Leyna considered, her eyes flitting over Xavier.

‘I’d hoped to see the new King of Kirtida here with us tonight,’ Paulina said when things were loud enough at the table that no one would overhear.

Though she could hardly manage to forget it, Leyna winced at the reminder. ‘I had, too.’

‘We should have anticipated this mess,’ Paulina continued. ‘There was always something in that boy’s eyes.’

Leyna didn’t respond, and Paulina turned her attention to the conversation beside her. Leyna was grateful. Her thoughts had clamoured at Paulina’s words, and she told herself, very deliberately, that it didn’t make her any less of a queen that she hadn’t anticipated their current situation.

It didn’t mean she’d failed her people.

She lived with the constant fear that she wasn’t doing enough. It didn’t matter how hard she worked, that fear remained. And she’d worked hard. She’d had to rebuild the morale of a kingdom that had lost its King and Queen in a matter of weeks. She’d had to earn their trust and make them believe that, though she was only twenty-one, she could be their Queen.

It had required all her time and all her attention. It had reminded her of her grandmother’s warnings. Was it any wonder she hadn’t had time for Xavier any more? She’d broken things off the minute she’d realised—really realised—how much work she had ahead of her.

It had hurt her to do so—more still when the demands of his crown hadn’t kept him from having a life. From having a relationship.

With someone who wasn’t her.

She closed her eyes against the anger, the jealousy, the resentment and pain, and fought off the loneliness that threatened to creep in. As it did almost every day.

‘Stop frowning,’ Xavier said under his breath. ‘People will think there’s something wrong with the food.’

‘Not the food, just the alliance they’re all here to celebrate.’

‘Don’t,’ he warned. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’

‘Yes, sir.’

She looked over in surprise when she heard his fork scrape against the plate. He was holding his utensils so tightly that his knuckles were white. It had her heart racing, especially since she wasn’t sure what had upset him.

‘Relax,’ she said lightly. ‘We have to keep the illusion of peace between the two of us.’

‘Are we at war then?’

‘No,’ she answered truthfully. ‘But our lives might end up being the collateral to stave one off.’

He didn’t respond to that, and somehow they made it through the rest of the dinner without saying another word to each other. Leyna led her guests to the more casual State Hall where the speeches would take place and gifts would be exchanged. She stood at the front next to the royal family of Mattan—Paulina, Xavier, his sister, Alika, with her husband, and his other sister, Nalini—accepting gifts with a smile even though she knew she was being watched.

No, she thought when her spine went rigid. She wasn’t being watched so much as judged. She knew her guests were wondering where the other member of Aidara’s royal family was. They’d always wanted that show of unity, especially after her mother had left Aidara. It seemed to reassure her people and their allies that Aidara was still as strong as it had been when Leyna’s grandfather, her grandmother Kathleen’s husband, had ruled.

But the last time Leyna had refused a suitor Kathleen had brought before her, her grandmother had declared that Leyna was a lost cause and had left Aidara for a diplomatic trip to South Africa.

It spoke volumes to Leyna that that was the least of her problems now. Because she also knew her guests were speculating more about the absence of the royal family of Kirtida than they were about Kathleen.