Page 130 of Scarred Crown

He releases a deep sigh, his hands thrust into the pockets of his suit pants. “I can’t stop you. But I hope you’ll come to understand how this looks and feels from my perspective. I don’t want to die, Nicholas. I’d love to see my children settled and happy. I’d love to have grandchildren bouncing on my knee. Would love to see Bellerive flourish on an international scale. Perhaps some of that I will get to see. But when the time comes, and I am no longer myself, I want the option to bow out gracefully.”

I huff out a breath of frustration.

“We put animals out of their misery when their suffering becomes too great. Why are we, as humans, above the same kindness? The same empathy?” My father’s voice is commanding and persuasive, a tone that always made me proud to call him my father when he stood at a podium.

Not today. I refuse to let any of his words be absorbed. There’s too much anger in me at him, at Jules, at everyone else who knew and didn’t tell me. He’s known for almost a year this was possible. Jules has known for months. Months.

My phone beeps with the alert to head to the shelter. Brice hoists himself out of his chair, but his movements are sluggish.

Before we leave the office, I stare at my father. “You need to tell the people before the referendum. They need to understand they’re voting to kill you.” My voice grows rough at the end, but it’s not sadness, it’s rage. With that parting shot, I draw the door to his office closed.

“Nick,” Brice says once we’re out of earshot.

“No.” I give a sharp shake of my head. “We’re not talking about this right now. I can’t. We throw on our royal faces at the shelter, and then I need to speak to my wife.”

“Don’t be mad at Jules. Dad should have been the one to tell us. Or Mom. Telling you wasn’t Julia’s job.”

“She’s my fucking wife. My wife. If they couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me, she should have.” I slice a hand through the air as we get to the main entrance where the car is waiting. “I don’t want to talk. We do our duty, and we get the fuck out of there.”

“She’s been your wife for five minutes,” Brice mutters. “Give her a fucking break.”

I can’t cut her any slack because my mind has zeroed in on something else. Yesterday’s tableau in Julia’s office is playing on repeat with a new meaning behind it. Alex, squeezing her tight, Julia in tears. This must have been what they were talking about. That more than anything is a knife to the gut.

Just like last time, Alex and Jules conspired to keep the truth from me.

Julia

The news of the referendum breaks in the SUV on my way to the hotel with Bahati, Kafil, and Elena. The three of them are filled with joyful exclamations on the beauty of the Bellerive coastline, the size of the island from the plane, the lush greenery they’ve never seen before. Meanwhile, my stomach is rioting, convinced that I’ll return home to a shit storm.

Did Alex leak the referendum? Could have been anyone if Merida knew yesterday, but someone at the palace would have confirmed it. Does Nick know yet that his father is sick?

God, it’s all such a mess. I’ve texted Nick, but I haven’t received a response. There’s no delivery notification, either, so his phone must be off. Maybe he doesn’t know about the referendum. Seems like it broke around the time he would have needed to get to the shelter. Maybe I’ll get home, and he won’t know yet.

That’s magical thinking, and I know it.

“Are you okay?” Kafil asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“Yes,” I say. “Something came up that Nick won’t be happy about, and I can’t reach him.”

“We can get ourselves settled at the hotel if you need to get home. We can see you at the hospital tomorrow.” Kafil rapid-fire translates for Bahati, and she nods in agreement.

“Are you sure?” I feel terrible dropping them off at the hotel and abandoning them. “I’ve asked for a stroller to be in your room, so you can walk around Tucker’s Town if you like. Nick also arranged credit at a bunch of restaurants in the area. The front desk will provide you with a list of options when you check in.”

“Thank you.” Bahati squeezes my hand and gives me a kind smile.

“Oh, we’re happy to do it. In fact, Nick and I—” But the rest of the words die in my throat. I’m not sure what Nick and I will be doing if he finds out I knew about the king’s illness and the referendum. “That’s not important right now.” I give a tight smile. “We’re happy to help.”

Kafil gives me a questioning look, but he doesn’t pry. We’ve been in constant contact over the phone, and we’ve become quite friendly. I even told him the other day I was going to wrangle him an invite to our royal wedding.

“Tomorrow,” Kafil says.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital before the surgery, and then I’ll be there after, too, just in case anything comes up.” I give a nod of reassurance as our driver pulls into the front entrance of the hotel. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go in?”

“We’ll be fine.” Kafil smiles. “We’re grateful for what you have done already.”

The driver gets the suitcases out of the back and piles them onto a trolley for Kafil to maneuver into the hotel. Bahati carries Elena on her hip, and I’m glad my mother suggested the stroller for their room.

On the way back to the palace, I come up with a thousand different outcomes to my impending conversation with Nick. In at least fifty percent of them he’s so angry he suggests we annul our marriage.