Page 47 of Forbidden Royal Vows

“That’s what happens when you fall in love,” Carliz said in the same soft tone. “All of the noise, all of the trouble, it all disappears. And all that matters is the bright light that shines between you two.”

“I did more than find it,” Mila told her then, though her throat constricted as she spoke, so used was she to keeping this secret. “I married it.”

And it took some while after that to settle back down. Because first there was the squealing. And enough shrieking that she had to assure the guards that all was well.

But Mila couldn’t really blame her sister for this reaction.

It was actually...comforting. Validating, somehow. Because it meant that it was the big deal—the huge deal—that she had always thought it was.

She couldn’t beat herself up for hiding this if her sister, who was usually impossible to rile up like this, was having this kind of reaction. Imagine what her mother would have done five years ago?

“I’m sorry.” Carliz wiped at her eyes, still shaking her head. “You were far more composed when I told you my tiny little secret. But I can’t believe you managed to hide something like this not just from me, but from the whole world. For years.”

“I kept thinking it would come out. I kept thinking that I would wake up one day to find that he’d told the entire planet.” She blew out a breath. “But he never did.”

They both sat with that for a while.

“What are you going to do?” Carliz asked. “I know you were leaning in the direction of being the apparently not at all virgin queen for the rest of your life, but sooner or later...?”

She didn’t have to finish that thought. They both knew what family they were in, and what each of their responsibilities were.

“There is no question about what I will have to do.” Mila couldn’t look at her sister anymore. She stared at the wineglass instead. Ferociously. “I must do my best to provide the kingdom with an heir. And, really, I was always meant to find the perfect king while I was at it. They have a list of the attributes this paragon should possess. He should be quiet and self-effacing. He should be weighted down by his own pedigree, someone who fades into the shadows while standing in plain sight, so as never to detract from my sovereign magnificence, blah blah blah.”

Carliz reached over and hooked her hand over Mila’s wrist. She squeezed until Mila found her gaze. It was too bright. Searing. “What’s the point of being the Queen if it means a life of lonely misery? Isn’t that just a nun? That’s not your job description, Mila.”

“Maybe,” Mila agreed, astounded both that her voice was noticeably rough and that she did not feel compelled to hide it. “But what can I do?”

Carliz laughed at that. “Have you confused yourself for someone else?” When Mila only looked at her without comprehension, she sighed. “What if you just said, Guess what? I love him. And I’m the Queen, so I’ll love who I want. What could they do?”

And it was easy, in a happy red wine flush and the joy of her sister’s presence, to tell herself that was a good idea. That not only was it a good idea, but that it would be easy. A wave of the nearest scepter. A royal inclination of her queenly head.

But when she woke up in the morning her queenly head ached, her royal heart was sore, and she had to sit in on another endless meeting about approaches to the scandal. She had to nod sagely at the discussions of crisis management, sinking relatability scores, and messaging.

None of this was new. Only the intensity of these discussions were different.

And maybe she had changed—or it was the hangover that lingered at her temples—but it sat heavily on her that what they were talking about was her life. This roomful of people, mostly men in dark suits, was carrying on a rather heated debate about how she should proceed to live out what no one directly called her ruined life. Though it was heavily implied that it would all be picking up pieces and hoping for divine intervention from here.

All it took was one photograph that was in no way salacious to overshadow her otherwise entirely spotless reign, and the exemplary life of excellent behavior that had preceded it.

What she needed to do, she thought when the interminable meeting was over, was not listen to these crisis counselors. They were worried about a photograph and internet chatter. They didn’t even know the real crisis, which was that she had given her heart away five years ago. Then frozen herself solid when her father died.

Only Caius had come back, and nothing in her was frozen any longer, and she was finding it hard to remember why she had decided that the only way she could exist was to disappear into her role. Become a statue of the Queen, like the one that would no doubt stand somewhere in this palace one day, instead of a person.

She knew she needed to find that statue again, no matter what she could remember. It was past time to pull herself together. Get her armor back in place. Figure out how to wear the Queen like a mask again, but this time, never take it off again.

But first she enjoyed every moment of her sister’s company. They saw old friends, like Paula. They spent as much time as they could alone together. Carliz had her speak to Valentino on the video calls she made and took to check in with him and the baby, so that at the end of the week or so she stayed, Mila felt as if she knew her brother-in-law in a way she would not have otherwise.

Better still, she had a sense of her sister’s relationship with her husband, which, after all the studied formality in their family, felt like fresh air.

And on the last night of Carliz’s visit, they once again indulged in a private family dinner. Because tradition always won out, no matter how many times the three of them had proved that sharing meals was a fraught exercise.

“I hope,” Carliz said over the fish course, with a sparkle in her gaze that told Mila she was about to cause trouble, “that if we can agree on nothing else, we can agree on this. At least everyone can understand why even a saint like Mila would trade in her reputation for the likes of Caius Candriano. It doesn’t need an explanation. Pictures of him exist.”

“Carliz.” Alondra looked appalled. “Really.”

Mila tried to look stern and queenly, but heard herself laughing instead. That did not make her mother any happier.

“The pair of you go too far.” She pushed back from the table. “This can only embarrass the crown, no matter what the man looks like. I was never taken in. And I’m surprised that you, Mila, would allow yourself to stray so far from the path your father laid out for you.”

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