Page 50 of Princess Bride Swap

A long looming silence settled in between them. She didn’t answer, kept her gaze on the opposite wall, and he found himself relieved.

He didn’t want to know what horrible thing she thought of him, it turned out.

All this time, and she’d been lying to him. Hiding this from him. And then it dawned on him. Not just this lie, but... “This is why your father did not want you to be his heir.”

For a moment she did not respond. He heard her swallow. “Yes.”

This was the secret his mother had been worried she’d been keeping. It was hardly the end of any worlds. If she’d kept it a secret this long in her life, they could continue to do so. It wasn’t the panic attacks themselves, he of all people understood that one could not always control the things the brain did.

But she hadliedto him. She did not trust him with this information even now. When he’d been ready to...

Changeeverythingfor her. Admit soft spots andlove, and this was how little she thought of him. He knew she hadn’t been happy, but he thought she felt at least some of what he did.

Surely there was just something he wasn’t understanding. He needed more information. “How many have you had since coming here?”

She looked over at him miserably. “Does it matter?”

That she had had them? Hid them? Lied to him? And still he thought details would somehow...help ease this yawning ache inside of him growing deeper and more painful by the moment. “How many?”

She looked down at her lap. “Three.”

Three. They had been married only three weeks. She had hiddenthreepanic attacks from him. Well, two. But she would have hidden this from him if he hadn’t... “When were they?”

“I’m very tired and—”

“When were they, Beaugonia?”

She lifted her chin. There was something, a hint oflifein her eyes, but it was shrouded in a misery that settled in him like a stab to the gut.

“If you must know, though it matters not at all. The first night at the chalet. Last week in the library. Today, after arguing with your mother.”

The chalet. “How... But we were in such close quarters at the chalet. How?”

“I know how to hide it. I told you. It was the middle of the night. I got out of bed without waking you.”

And then she’d come back. Lied to him about being cold. And then... Lyon got to his feet. He wanted to rip the collar off his neck, the pressure squeezing just there. He stalked away from her, then turned back.

“So once a week. Once a week you’ve had these...attacks. And hidden it from me?”

“Yes.” She didn’t sound the least bit repentant. She just sat there on the bed, staring at her lap.

“Why would you have kept this from me?”

Her head whipped up. “Are you joking? A weakness like this? When you’re obsessed with being seen as stable and respectable? Why would I ever admit this to you?”

“Obsessed.” It felt like an indictment. One he could hardly defend himself from. It was true.

Except he hardly viewed a panic attack as someweakness. The fact she thought he would...

“Can you please leave me be now? I’d like to rest. Alone.”

Alone. When he’d thought... It was all too much. He needed to sort through the...layers of it all. So perhaps alone would be best. She could rest and he could think.

But he didn’t want anything hanging over her head, worrying her unnecessarily. “You do not need to attend the parliamentary dinner if you do not wish.” He would make her excuses. Find a way to make certain she didn’t have to deal with it. “I’ll leave the decision up to you.”

She looked at him then, her hazel eyes reflecting a hurt he did not understand. She didn’t say anything.

So he gave her what she wanted. Time to rest.Alone.

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