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The Queen told me that information in a moment of weakness. She didn’t even tell me, really. She let slip that there was a mining executive trying to come to Nord. Is it wrong for me to investigate further? Is it wrong for me to use that information for my benefit?
I want to say no. We don’t owe each other anything, and it’s not like she cares what mergers I complete. All we did was fuck at a wedding when we both felt a bit too lonely and a bit too horny.
…So why does this taste in my mouth remind me of regret?
7
Penelope
Usually, when I get back to Nord after a trip abroad, I feel the relief of being home. I taste the crisp, cool air and let it fill my lungs, confident in the fact that this is where I belong. Stirling, the capital city, is the jewel of Nord. Rich with life and culture, it’s the place where I feel most at home.
But when I step off the private jet and feel the soft, summer breeze ruffle the hem of my dress, it sends a chill walking down my spine.
This homecoming isn’t so sweet. It feels…lonely.
Summer in Nord is incredible. Green and lush, it bursts into life without warning after a long, dark winter. It’s not muggy like Farcliff. Summer here is the perfect temperature, with just the right amount of breeze. The sun will be out until late tonight, past ten o’clock. People in Nord will celebrate in the streets, and the whole kingdom will be alive and outdoors until the cold weather sets in again come autumn.
Usually I love it, but right now it reminds me a bit too much of what happened in Farcliff. I’d prefer the cold.
Silas follows me off the plane. Sunglasses firmly in place all morning, my brother hasn’t said a word to me. Hungover. We’ve been traveling through Farcliff for two weeks now, and my brother has spent most of his time drinking and getting—ahem—acquainted with the local female population.
My brother’s antics never bothered me before. Sure, the Crown has had to put out a fire or two whenever a woman feels like she has the right to cause a controversy—but Silas is Silas. My little brother, the boy who was always able to make me smile. He’s been a hurricane since he was in school, so much so that he had to be homeschooled just to get him through. His antics turned to partying when he got older, and now he’s mostly mellowed out in comparison to how he was in his teens and early twenties.
Sure, he often has a few too many drinks and a different woman every night—but sometimes I think he’s just trying to fill some kind of void. I filled mine with ice, but maybe alcohol and sex would have been more effective.
My two other brothers, Wolfe and Jonah, are decidedly more serious. Wolfe has lightened up a bit since he got married last year, taking on the role of husband and father like he was born to do it. He’s moved to the Summer Palace full-time, which used to be our summer home as a family. It rests on the Arctic Circle and is an unforgiving place in winter. He and his wife seem to love it, though. The isolation suits them both.
And Jonah? Well, Jonah is level-headed. He has a good mind for politics, and I’ve relied on him heavily for years. He’s been in charge while I’ve been away with Silas.
Things would have been easier if Jonah had been born first. Or Wolfe. Maybe even Silas, if he decided to grow up sometime this century.
But the crown came to me. Little old Penelope, who just wanted to run off and catch rainbows. That little girl feels like a different person now. Like I’m staring at some distorted mirror, seeing my past through the eyes of a stranger.
I try not to let bitterness overwhelm me, especially when I think of Wolfe. We used to understand each other—he lost his fiancée, too. Neither of us thought we’d move on, but he has, and I’ve seen him become happier and healthier over the past year. I’ve always known my brothers would find wives and marry. Their happiness is important to me, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve lost something I’ll never get back.
Two weeks ago, I slept with a man for the first time in seven years. I let him run his calloused palms up my thighs, feeling lava pour into my veins. I tasted his kiss and drank in his scent. I was a woman, not the Queen, and it was glorious.
But it’s over.
I have responsibilities, and I can’t afford to cause any controversies like the ones Silas seems to attract. Plus, it’s never been something I’ve sought out. Never been something I needed. There hasn’t been a man who’s made me feel any bit of arousal.
Well, not until Asher.
As I’m led to the waiting royal car, I try to let the cool breeze blow my thoughts across the land. I try to push the memory of Asher aside, but I can still feel the roughness of his stubble against my cheek. The feel of his hard length pressed up against my stomach, and the absolute hunger in his kiss.
Our time together was…it was incredible. It felt like nothing I’ve ever had before. Explosive.
I’ve been drifting through a gray life since my husband died, and that hour with Asher was in full color. Bright, vibrant, and oh-so-wrong. I’d die happy if I got to do it again…
…but I can’t. All I can do is take that memory and lock it somewhere safe. Somewhere no one can find it but me.
When we get to the castle, it feels like I’m sliding on a familiar coat of armor. This is my home. My workplace. My kingdom. This is where I rule, and where all my responsibilities are fulfilled.
Leaving Silas to go nurse his hangover, I head for the office. No doubt there will be a huge stack of paperwork waiting for my signature. Jonah could hold down the fort while I was gone, but his signature doesn’t belong next to the royal seal. I walk through the empty hallways, listening to the echo of my shoes on the stone floors and ignoring the haughty gazes from the oil paintings of ancestors long gone.
Who will be my successor? Who will take the crown after I’m gone? Wolfe is the next oldest, and he already has a child. The newspapers are calling him and his son the heirs—as if I’m already dead. The Queen who failed to produce an heir. The end of her royal line. Up until Gabriel’s wedding, I would have agreed with them, but now…
…I feel the furthest thing from death. Asher made me feel so deliciously alive—but it doesn’t change the fact that I’ll never have an heir of my own. That particular scar is mine to bear, and mine to bear alone.
