Page 52 of His Hidden Royal Heirs

“Cristhian, you can’tmakeanyone love you. You can’t perfect all the conditions so they decide to. You can only honor your own feelings and your own needs. While respecting theirs.”

Cristhian tried to reject those words, but he’d never been any good at ignoring his grandparents’ wisdom. They’d been there, every step they could be. The only solid points in his life along with his parents’ memory.

And even that had been rocked by his realizations this morning about panic attacks. About how deep everything with his mother had gone. And now, in this moment, that someday he would not have his grandparents’ wisdom to rely on.

Life and time would march on. Both too short, and infinite, all at the same time. Everything he’d been trying to control, since that moment he’d lost his parents, was an exercise in futility.

“You know,” Grandmother said after the silence had stretched on too long. “I said I love you to your grandfather first and he didn’t say anything back.”

“That is not true!”

“It is absolutely true,” Grandmother shot back. “You were so busy playing with that damn dog of yours—”

“Which means I didn’thearyou, not that I didn’tsay it back.”

“I think you heard me.”

They bickered like that for a few minutes, shoulder to shoulder, smiling even as they disagreed. About events long gone. And through that time and this time, they had loved each other. Weathered storms and tragedies and challenges, alongside joys.

Cristhian had spent his life with these examples of love. So much so he’d been sure love was the answer.

And he supposed it was. But not just the words. Something bigger. Something deeper. Not love as an agent ofcontrol, but something far more terrifying.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Grandfather asked, confusion drawing his bushy white brows together.

“For being yourselves. It has been an invaluable part of my life.” One that Zia did not have. So, no, he could not control things to ensure her feelings. But what he could do, but what he would do, was give her something she’d never had.

And spread that love and support to their children, no matter where life took them.

They said their I-love-yous and their goodbyes. For a moment Cristhian sat in the darkened room and just listened to his own breathing.

You can’t make anyone love you.

Had he thought he could? No, it was more complicated than that. Perhaps he’d rested too much on the idea that love would be the answer. That if she loved him, he would get what he wanted.

Also simplistic, when his feelings were anything but.

He returned to her bedroom. She was still asleep.

He had received confirmation that the royal family had returned to their castle in Lille. He still did not know what had happened, but he had decided to trust that Beaugonia had it all under control, as she’d claimed.

And for the first time in his life since he’d lost his parents, he had to trust that control wasnotthe answer.

Letting go was.

Zia woke up. Her room was dim, the curtains drawn, but she noted there was sunlight creeping around the edges. She glanced at the clock. It was well into the morning. She’d slept a ridiculous amount.

She stretched in the bed, took stock of her body. She did feel better than she had at any point yesterday. More herself, or at least her healthy pregnant self. She yawned and pushed herself into a tentative sitting position, ready for any little twinge that she thought meant she should lie back down.

But none came. She let out a long breath of relief, then studied the dim room around her. She startled a bit when she realized there was a body on the little lounge in the corner. Cristhian. Fast asleep.

So handsome it nearly took her breath away. Had he really said he loved her, or was that some dream she’d had? Or maybe another machination. Could she put that past him?

She watched him sleep, her heart twisting in a million little knots. He had said helovedher, and she did not know how to take it for a lie. Butwhy? She had finally agreed to marry him; he didn’t need to make up stories now.

So why had he said it?

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