hidden it. She broke it up and brought it, piece by piece, to the prison. A ruby bought us fifteen minutes alone together. A diamond, half an hour. Mostly, she would hold me and swore to find a way to get me released. The guards were rough with her, and I told her not to come, fearing they would really hurt her one day, but she wouldn’t listen.
When she became pregnant with Aubrey, I made her promise to leave. Made her. Shouted at her. Seized her arms. Told her she was selfish. Swore I wouldn’t speak to her if she came to the prison again. She couldn’t stay in Paravel where my child might end up behind bars, too. Moira left the prison, sobbing like her heart was broken, and I never saw her again.
I stroke Aubrey’s dark hair back from her face. “Moira got you both to safety, even though the borders were closed. She truly was one of the bravest people I know.”
Aubrey’s gazing at me with tears in her eyes. Moira can’t have told our daughter how I treated her. I hope that means she forgave me, before she died. “I wish it were a happier story.”
Aubrey touches the back of my hand. “I don’t need a fairy tale. I just need you.”
I pull my daughter against my chest and hold her tightly. “I’m sorry,” I whisper fiercely. “I’m sorry you’ve been so alone.”
She burrows into my chest and holds me back. “Daddy, I want us to be friends, okay? I want you to be happy. I feel like all you do is work.”
I tuck her under my chin and gaze at the far wall. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Aubrey is silent for a moment. “Why don’t we host a party? Something more casual than Court.”
“A party?” Wraye comes to my mind, the breeze ruffling her hair, her skin luminous in the sunshine. “We can do that. How about a garden party?”
“That would be lovely. The garden is looking beautiful again. If you’re sure you want to?”
“We used to have wonderful garden parties here when I was a boy.” I stand up and plant a kiss on top of her head, and then go downstairs.
I head out onto the terrace, gazing around at the garden and picturing it filled with guests. Seeing one guest, in particular, standing on the lawn in a delicate dress, smiling back at me.
Chapter Twelve
Wraye
“Daddy’s like a different person lately.”
I glance up at Aubrey from the daisy chain I’m making. My stomach swoops like it does every time I hear his name or read it in the papers. Or when Aubrey calls him Daddy.
Yes, Daddy.
I shift a little on the grass. Aubrey and I are sitting cross-legged in Royal Park, beneath the spreading branches of a horse chestnut tree. Tiny white-and-yellow daisies have turned their sunny faces up to the sky. The Archduke’s marriage proposal has been playing on a loop in my mind. The kiss that demanded I accept him. What the hell has gotten into him?
Why do I keeping daydreaming I said yes?
“He is?”
Aubrey threads another blossom through the stem of her own chain. “Two days ago, out of nowhere, he sat down and told me about how he and Mother came to be married. It was such an old Paravel union. You know, marry a stranger to make your family happy.”
“Two days ago, as in, after we had breakfast together?”
“Yes. Right after, actually. He suddenly wanted to talk. It was the best conversation we’ve had.”
A throb of emotion is making it hard to speak. I think I might be proud of him. “I’m glad he’s opening up,” I whisper hoarsely.
This morning, there was a gushing piece in one of the papers about how hard he’s training the King’s Guard, and what a wonderful thing it is that the old glory of Paravel is reemerging. The article was accompanied by a photograph of his men at the parade ground, saluting him. I stared at it so long that my coffee went cold. I longed to trace his features and feel the rasp of his beard beneath my fingers.
“I suggested we throw a party, and he said yes. I mean, Daddy throw a party?”
I drag my attention back to Aubrey and see that she’s grinning, as if the Archduke agreeing to a party is ridiculous, but she’s thrilled, just the same.
“So, we’re hosting a garden party next week. Daddy’s doing all the invitations. The only person I want there is