The Queen's Secret (The Queen's Secret #2) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,17
to understand what he’s saying. I don’t like the way this is going.
“She shall remain in court, of course,” Hansen continues. His face is even pinker now; he’s too close to the flames. I’d like to think he is ashamed of himself, but that’s probably inferring too much. “However, she will no longer share the rooms next to my own.”
“I see,” I say. I feel sorry for Lady Cecilia; she no doubt imagines that Hansen is her devoted and adoring lover, but he’s prepared to dispose of her the moment the commoners no longer admire him. “How generous of you.”
Hansen sniffs, as though my sarcastic comment isn’t worthy of a reply. He thrums his fingers on the mantel, and I wonder if I’ve angered him. But no.
“The thing is,” he says, hesitant now—sensing, perhaps, that he’s on more dangerous ground—“the thing is, Lilac, you should be, ahem, seen to be alone as well. The Chief Assassin, I think, shall have to vacate the castle.”
“The Chief Assassin?” I echo. “What does this have to do with him?”
The thought of Cal leaving my side makes me shudder—with rage and with fear. An instant longing for him, for his touch and his smell, the masculine presence of him near my body and in my bed, ripples through me. I think of his deep olive skin against my white sheets, and my whole body aches for him.
Hansen looks at me meaningfully. “I believe you know why.”
“No! We’re not talking about him,” I say, my voice rising even as my blood thunders in my temples. If the king knows—and the king knows—then our lives are forfeit. There is nothing to stop Hansen from ordering our deaths for adultery and treason.
Instead, Hansen is simply asking me to do what he has done. To cast aside a favorite.
But Cal is not a diversion like Cecilia. Cal is . . . Cal is . . . What are the words? Cal was right, there are no words for our relationship but those of an illicit nature. He is no one to me; he has to be no one. I am married. I am the queen.
“And yet we must discuss this!” Hansen smacks his hand on the mantel. “Be reasonable! You know very well that Holt has to be somewhere else if we’re to . . . conceive a child. One that everyone knows is a royal child.”
Disbelief gives way to something much nastier, something that makes me feel queasy. He knows. The Council knows. Our secret has not been a secret at all, but something the king and his counselors have tolerated until now . . .
If Cal is sent away and I conceive a child, no one will be able to say the king is not the father of his own royal heir. Hansen gives up his mistress, but she can stay in court; she just can’t live next to him anymore. Meanwhile, I have to give up my lover—the love of my life—and he must be sent away on a mission, just so all the judgmental, gossiping courtiers in Mont can be assured that any child I bear is the king’s.
My heart is pounding. “Can’t we wait?” I ask, desperate. “We’ve only been married a few months.”
“Wait for what?” Hansen’s tone is weary. “Wait for people to start loving us again? Wait until we’ve been married more than a year and everyone is talking about us, wondering what’s, uh, going wrong? That the king is . . . un-un-unable? Or the queen is infertile? Rumors flying that you’re a witch or an empire builder, refusing to give me an heir? Think about it.” He looks me square in the face. “Lilac, we should have a child, and the sooner the better.”
I see now that Hansen isn’t the bored regent I had taken him to be, or a spoiled and vain boy. He is a king, and he must do his duty, as distasteful as it is, and he is being as kind as he can be.
“I am truly sorry,” he says now, “but we are not children. We must put away our toys.”
He puts a tentative hand on my shoulder, and I force myself to look him in the eye. “Am I as repulsive as all that?” he asks. “I do not ask you to love me. I only ask that we do what is best for the kingdom.”