Page 128 of Thrones We Steal

While riding in the car to the airport, I unlock my phone to buy a few minutes of distraction. Messages clog my inbox, mostly from Maisie and Beatrice, concerned by my silence. I decline responding. I’ll be home soon enough. Besides, I need every minute of the time I have left to pick up the pieces and put them back together in a way that somewhat resembles who I used to be.

The latest message from Bea is a link to a London gossip site where the top article features a picture of Henry and I kissing and the headline Prince and Princess Rendezvous in London. I click out of it in disgust.

Without even realizing I’m doing it, I catch myself scanning the airstrip for signs of Henry, but he, of course, is nowhere to be seen. So much the better. Seeing him will only threaten the thin veneer I’ve managed to get into place.

Once we’re in the air, I search the oversize tote Daphne packed for something to read. It would take a terrorist attack to keep my mind from agonizing over Henry, but I’ll settle for a novel. There is a book at the bottom of the bag. Bless Daphne. I pull it out. Wuthering Heights. Damn it. I shove it back inside.

The action dislodges an envelope wedged down the side of the bag. I tug it out. My name in the familiar handwriting has me nearly jamming it into the recesses of the bag again. Even on a bloody plane I can’t escape him. Regardless, I’m like a moth to a flame. I tear it open.

The first thing I pull out are the divorce papers, once again neatly stacked and folded. Message received, Henry. The other thing is a letter.

Celia,

I can’t think straight when I’m around you. So I’m resorting to a letter again to tell you what I need to say.

I shouldn’t have let you stay in my room. I shouldn’t have made love to you. And I sure as hell shouldn’t have let you believe we had a future together. Please know how sorry I am for all of it. My only excuse is that seeing you in my suite was my undoing.

I let myself pretend for a minute. I thought maybe there was a chance. And so I made the mistake of allowing you to think something had changed, when I knew all along nothing had.

I knew the illusion couldn’t go on forever, but I just wanted to live in the bubble a little longer. When we were finally caught on camera, I knew it needed to end. We don’t belong together.

I wish I had been strong enough to do it right away. I might have saved you some pain. But I wasn’t. I wanted to hold you one more night, to make love to you one more time. It was wrong and selfish and god, I’m so sorry.

It doesn’t change anything, but I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. It kills me to think of the pain I’ve caused you. The hardest thing I’ve ever done was walk away from you lying on the floor of my room, sobbing because of me. It took everything in me to not grab you and hold you. But I knew that if I did, I would never let go and I’d be doing you a greater wrong than letting you cry alone.

I know you—you won’t be satisfied with this answer. You never are, my darling girl, but it’s going to have to be enough. I can’t promise you won’t see me again, but I’ll do my damnedest to stay out of your life. I know it’s the only way you’ll be able to move on.

And move on is what you need to do. I’ve distracted you long enough. Wesbourne needs you, and you’re going to go down in history as her greatest queen. Your potential is brimming over. With me out of your life for good, you can finally do everything you were meant to.

Dry your tears, baby, and don’t shed any more on my account. In time, you’ll find someone who will erase me from your memory. Maybe you and Beck can work things out. Just remember, you deserve the very best, so promise you won’t settle. Wait for the one who brings out the best in you. He’s out there.

I know you’re crying as you read this, and I wish I could kiss the tears from your eyes. Don’t cry for me, please. I can’t stand to think of you wasting your tears on me.

Be strong. For me. x Henry

* * *

The human heart is a funny thing. It doesn’t break the way a dropped water glass does—suddenly and all at once, its pieces scattering across the floor. No, a heart breaks slowly, the fissures only felt at first, sensed, until finally a giant crack opens and pain oozes out. But then it keeps breaking, each time the crack opening wider and shards breaking off, never to be recovered. Just when you think it’s surely over, that the pain couldn’t possibly get any worse, it wrenches yet again and you realize the pain you felt before was nothing compared to this latest break, the one that leaves you breathless, aching, panting for want of relief. The process can last for years, or it can take place in a matter of hours.

Whether I will ever recover is not the point. As the plane flies lower over the country I know and love so well, a bold certainty creeps into my heart. I have to recover. And if that proves too difficult, I’ll do my best to fake it.

Wesbourne is waiting for me.

40

“Every Day” - Nick Tzios

One Month Later

I’ve never considered the similarities between a wedding and a coronation before, but the connections are unmistakable. When one becomes monarch, they marry their country. Solemnly swearing until death do them part and all that.

I’ve had my wedding already, in this exact spot as a matter of fact. We all know what a disaster that turned into. I just hope my days as a queen will fare better than those as a wife.

The voices of the choir lift to the rafters in song as I await my destiny. I don’t hear a word, but I can see their mouths moving. The anticipation in the nave is a velvet robe around my shoulders, as heavy as the one I’m currently wearing. From the throne, I face the Imperial Crown, an extravagant affair featuring gemstones larger than my thumbnail, glimmering and sparking in the light.

This is it.

This moment is what I was born for. No longer the Duchess of Whitmere or director of the Wesbourne Historical Society, but Her Majesty, Queen of Wesbourne. It’s staggering. I once thought my small contributions to society were powerful in their own way, but I never dreamt of standing on the brink of this much influence.

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