Page 94 of Fit for a King

Nicholas’s jaw twitched and his hands curled around the arms of the throne. “You’re needed where I tell you you’re needed, Noah.”

My head jerked back at the sound of my name on his tongue.

“My name is Mr. Bennett, Your Majesty. And you have made it very clear you no longer need me anywhere. So please…” I paused, trying to find the strength to say the next words. “Please don’t make this any harder than it already is. Let me go.”

Nicholas’s nostrils flared as he ran his eyes down over my worn brown suit, and that cold indifference in his gaze disappeared, in its place all of the hurt and pain I was feeling.

“What if I can’t?”

I blinked back the tears blurring his image and gritted my teeth. I would not cry. Not again. Not in front of him.

“Don’t make me stay,” I whispered, not sure how I would survive if he did.

Nicholas looked out the window he’d been standing in front of when I first entered, then nodded.

“Very well,” he said, his voice cool, fully in control once again. “You are dismissed.”

The words were exactly what I’d wanted to hear. But as they hung in the air between us, the finality of them felt worse than anything I could’ve imagined. So much so that for a second I just stood there, and Nicholas—no, the king—turned back to look at me.

“Was there something else you needed, Mr. Bennett?”

I stumbled back a step, suddenly reminded of exactly who he was.

“No, sir,” I said, and bowed slowly.

“Then you may go.”

I held my breath as I turned and forced my feet to walk to the door, and it wasn’t until I pulled it open, and all but ran to the car, that I finally let it out. My heart broke in two as the car started up and pulled away from Montclair Palace.

Tears threatened as I turned around in my seat, and when I saw Nicholas standing in the window, watching me go, there was no holding them back. They streamed down my cheeks as Montclair Palace, and the love I held for its king, faded into nothing.

30

NICHOLAS

THE CORONATION COAT was too damn heavy—that was my first thought as the tailor placed it on my shoulders—but considering the current state of my life, it barely registered on the list of things to care about.

It was magnificent, though: midnight-blue velvet with silver embroidery that climbed up the lapels and cuffs in intricate vines and laurel leaves, and at the collar, polished sapphires. Beneath it, an ivory brocade waistcoat, woven with an understated damask pattern and buttoned over a crisp white shirt. The ceremonial mantle fell from my shoulders, cascading nearly to the ground in rich folds of blue velvet.

Centuries of Valemont kings had worn a similar version of this, and every stitch held meaning. Every detail had been approved by the coronation committee and was now being adjusted by the tailors who circled me with pins and measuring tape while I stood silent and still.

This was what I knew, though. It was familiar, letting people dress me, measure me, prepare me for the role I’d been born for.

King.

The word felt heavier than the coat.

“Raise your arm, please, Your Majesty,” the head tailor said, and I obeyed as my mind wandered, even as Gilbert and other staff stood off to the side watching and conversing about God knows what. Probably which angle would suit me best as I took the oath.

I stifled a sigh and stared straight ahead at the mirror, where a king looked back. Not Nicholas. Not the man Noah had loved. Just a hollow shell of a human who looked perfectly composed on the outside but was self-destructing on the inside.

If Noah were here, he would’ve noticed straight away. He would’ve also noticed my uneaten breakfast trays the last couple of weeks, the shadows under my eyes that he’d always softly caressed if I’d had a particularly stressful day.

But Noah was not here. He’d left me, left the palace, and I had no doubt that after the way I’d behaved, I’d never see him again.

Part of me wondered if I’d made a mistake in not ordering him to stay. He would’ve hated me for it, but at least he would’ve been here. Instead, I’d let him go, watched him leave from the throne room window, and my heart had been wrenched in two—not that anyone else knew or cared. Only minutes after he’d left, I was forced into a meeting, the duties of the crown not stopping for my grief.

“Your Majesty?”