Page 116 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

Rosalind.

Beautiful, prim, untouchable, judgemental Rosalind.

His lips tightened in a firm line as he stepped out of the east corridor and approached his gleaming black bike, gravel crunching underfoot as he reached the thing.

It wasn’t like the prospect of a baby was his ideal development either. He’d married Rosalind out of sheer necessity. The old king had made it obvious that the only way he’d return Sebastian to the order of succession and revoke his mother’s exiled status was if Sebastian agreed to take the hand of a woman of the king’s choosing. And the king had chosen a woman who was clearly cut from the same cloth as himself.

At least, Sebastian thought with a frown, he’d thought as much until tonight.

Until tonight, his every interaction with his wife had shown her to be a ruthless, power-hungry person who put ambition above all else. Just like the king, who’d cared more about his wounded pride than his daughter’s happiness.

And Rosie had married a man she didn’t know, for the sake of power, money and influence. Look at how she’d lobbied to double her discretionary budget, so she could funnel the money into whichever project she deemed worthy.

At least Sebastian could say he’d acted out of love. He’d married at the king’s behest because it was the only way to get his mother home and to return himself to the order of succession. Personal power had been beside the point: he’d had enough of that in his life in America. This was about righting a wrong; about forcing the king to acknowledge that he’d erred.

Except, that hadn’t happened. There had been no apology, no explanation, no admitting he’d been wrong. No matter. They were back in Cavalonia and one day, Sebastian would be king; this would all be worth it.

What if Rosie didn’t agree to have his baby?

It was her choice; utterly and completely. He knew many women who’d chosen not to have children, many couples who’d opted out of procreating. Each person had their own views on this matter and were it not for the necessity of begetting a royal heir, Sebastian doubted he’d have wanted a child of his own either. But his was not a normal life. When he’d returned to Cavalonia, he’d been mindful of the freedoms he’d be giving up. His privacy was invaded constantly, his time was scheduled from dawn to dusk, but all of this he accepted, because it was his duty. So too was the fathering of children.

But what if shedidagree?

His parents’ marriage had been miserable. Though he’d only been four when his mother had left, he had core memories of their arguments, and a pervasive sense of what it had been like to live in a desperately unhappy home. How could he, in good conscience, consider having a child under very similar circumstances?

He and Rosalind didn’t like one another. They were barely civil when in the same room. How could they share a child and conceal their dislike?

With the question hanging in his mind, he straddled the bike, unaware of the pair of bright blue eyes that were trained on him from a second-story window. He reached for the helmet, dropped it onto his head, but he didn’t start the bike yet. The helmet sliding into place felt almost like a weight—the weight of the entire world—and for a moment he let himself admit, just to himself, how much hedidn’twant this. How much he wished he was free to choose.

The very faint hope Rosie had cherished that the prince had been mistaken faded abruptly the next morning.

‘You must have a child.’ The king’s voice was hoarse. Though his heart was back in rhythm, he was tired, just like the last time. She tried not to think about the surgery he’d had, which had been supposed to correct this biological programming error, nor about the fact it appeared to have failed. ‘I cannot risk what will happen if I’m gone.’

‘You’re not going anywhere,’ Rosie murmured.

‘Listen to me.’ An old hand, gnarled in the way the trees in the very middle of the forest became, pressed into hers. She stared at it, wondering why she hadn’t noticed how much he’d aged in recent years? He wasnotold, and yet his body seemed to be betraying him. ‘I do not trust him. He is too like his mother, and like the man who raised him. He is not like you or me. He does not live by a code of loyalty; he does not love this country. Not like we do.’

Rosie tried not to betray her thoughts on this. She hated her husband, but she wasn’t sure that the king’s charges were entirely fair. There was something about Sebastian that spoke of a deep loyalty—to his mother, if not the country.

‘If I were to die tomorrow, do you think your marriage would survive?’

Rosie’s eyes widened. The thought hadn’t occurred to her, which made Rosie feel both naive and foolish. While she knew theirs was not a long-term marriage, she had expected it to end onherterms, when she was ready. When she’d finished the work she’d started. Control of this was important to Rosie and she had fought hard for it in their marriage documents. She bristled now at the idea that she might be maneuvered out of Sebastian’s life when it suitedhimand not her.

‘He suffered this union only as a way to secure his inheritance—we both know that.’

Theydidboth know that, but acknowledging the truth so baldly did little for Rosie’s ego. Was that why she’d ignored the prospect of being cast aside if the king were to pass away?

‘Without me here, he would divorce you, and go on to rule with no tempering force in his life. He would be completely unchallenged in all things. I cannot allow that to happen.’

Rosie’s heart tightened. The king was painting a bleak picture. ‘I do not believe he would necessarily be so callous.’

‘Don’t you?’ The king’s voice was heavy with cynicism. ‘You must have a child. Even he would not be able to cast you aside then.’ Rosie shook her head in instinctive rejection of the whole idea. ‘Better yet, have two. Three.’

She gasped. ‘Stop.’

‘I’m sorry.’ The king’s eyes swept shut. Rosie stared at him, her heart hurting at his visible decline. She loved him, but he was far from perfect, and this request was proof of that. But was he wrong?

When she’d agreed to this marriage, it had been for two reasons. Firstly, it had given her a chance to make the kind of difference she’d always dreamed of, to truly improve the lives of the most disadvantaged in the land, just as her mother had wanted to do. But secondly, she’d agreed because she loved her country. Because she was proud of where she came from and of who she was, and she would have done anything for Cavalonia’s future.

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