Maisey Yates - Royal Sins

He reached out and took her hand in his. She was conscious of how small, how pale it looked, concealed entirely by his. He held her tightly, his black eyes never leaving hers, cementing the vow, one she felt all the way down to her soul.

Suddenly her promises seemed so shallow. So empty. What had she done but repeat words spoken to her? Words she barely understood.

That was very like her first marriage.

A marriage where she had chosen the thinnest facade of connection over any sort of true intimacy and all the deep, exposing terror that came with it.

So she’d stayed on the surface. And she was ashamed now in the face of his sincerity.

What Tarek had said, those were vows. A pledge from the depth of his being.

She was honored. She was not worthy.

But she wanted it. Wanted it with a ferocity that shocked her.

Maybe it was time to stop being shocked by how many feelings Tarek seemed to call out of her with effortless ease.

Then he released her, and as a blessing was pronounced on them she found herself being led back down the aisle she had just come up, all eyes in the room on them, somber expressions all around. She’d been told to expect that, too. The reception would be the place for festivities. This ceremony was treated with all seriousness.

When they exited the sanctuary, Melia was waiting for them.

“The feast will be served in the grand hall,” she said. “If you go there now, you can take your seats and await the celebrations.”

Olivia took hold of Tarek’s hand and they started to walk down the corridor together. A sense of belonging filled her. She looked to the side, at the man who had become her husband, and her heart felt as if it had grown two sizes. This was something deeper. Something more.

The sort of thing she’d been afraid to reach for all these years. Right here. Right beside her.

He looked at her, his brow raised. “Yes?”

“Just letting it sink in.”

“That we are married?”

“Yes. That this is my home. That you’re my husband. All of it.”

He stopped, taking hold of her other hand and turning her so that she was standing facing him, his expression fierce. “Why? What is it you want? I spent the past two weeks looking at pictures of your old life and Alansund.”

Her stomach tightened. “Why?”

“To understand you.”

“You could have spoken to me.”

He lifted a shoulder, dismissing her words. “The photographs I looked at conveyed much. And so I’m curious, why would you leave all of that to come here?”

Her throat constricted, making words all but impossible. “Because it isn’t there anymore. There is no place for me. I know we haven’t had a chance to talk about this. I don’t...I don’t like to talk about the past. I don’t have a lot of happy things there.”

He raised his brows, his dark eyes full of something...understanding, maybe? Which was so strange she could hardly stand it. “I have some idea of what that might be like. Will you tell me?”

“My sister was ill. She is ill. She’s had a terrible autoimmune disease since we were children. My parents spent years of their lives in hospitals. Even now, she’s very fragile. Truthfully, she’s lucky to have lived as long as she has. But that meant that my life was solitary. Very often I was at home while they attended clinical trials. While Emily was hospitalized. It’s just one reason I felt so suited to palace life. The house was always full. I quite like that. And Marcus had a way of making everything feel easy. Fun. Bright. I didn’t have much experience of that. I’m afraid of being alone. I don’t like it. I don’t like feeling displaced. Like I’m an incidental. Because I’ve had too much of it.

“Emily can’t help it. I hate even saying any of this. It isn’t her fault. It isn’t my parents’ fault. And I found a way to fix all of that. It’s just that...Marcus died. And there isn’t a place for me there anymore, and it’s nothing but that yawning, horrible feeling of being extra. I tried to... There was this man who was a diplomat for Alansund and I tried to make things work with him, but it barely got past hello. I felt... I hate feeling like I failed in my duty. Like I didn’t hold up my end.”

She thought of that horrible moment. The birthday party. When she’d yelled at her parents for not caring. When they’d looked at her as though she’d failed in her unspoken duty. To be content with neglect, because she had health. She had never felt so broken. “So when Anton suggested this as a solution, I jumped at it. That’s why I’m here. At least here I matter.”

She couldn’t quite fathom why all of that had come spilling out. She had never even talked to Marcus about it like that. Oh, he had known about Emily’s condition, but she had never spoken to him about how it made her feel.

But Marcus had never asked.

Tarek put his hand on her cheek, the gesture so shocking she froze, her eyes wide. “You are needed. Know that.”

With that, he lowered his hand, continuing to walk with her down the corridor. The ache in her chest deepened, widened, a crack in a wall she hadn’t been aware of until recently.

She didn’t have time to ponder it too deeply. They entered the dining hall to find it glowing from floor to ceiling. The chandeliers were lit; candelabras lined the room. Flowers wound around everything. There was nothing restrained about any of this. It was an explosion of joy, of color. And since Olivia couldn’t muster up any of her own joy, she appreciated it blooming around her.

At the head of the low table were cushions in red, gold and blue, awaiting herself and Tarek.

“This is beautiful. I’ve never been to a party like this,” she said.

It reminded her very much of that birthday party again. But people were here. And it was glittering and full. So she would focus on that.

“Nor have I.”

She followed him to their positions, taking a seat beside him. Questions formed in her mind, hovering on her lips. She had just shared some of herself. And she wanted very much to try to get him to share his own experiences.

“How is that possible? Why were you out in the desert?”

Guests began filing into the room, more than had been in the ceremony. She had known this would be the case, too. There was also a feast outside the walls of the palace, food being given freely to the citizens of Tahar to celebrate the marriage of their sheikh.

Along with guests, musicians came in, music filling the space, echoing off the ceiling and the jeweled walls. In time with the music, platters of food came next, and her question was lost in the noise and shuffle.

She picked at a bit of spiced lamb on her plate, unable to muster up any appetite.

She looked over at Tarek, who was sitting with one leg curled beneath him and the other bent at the knee, his elbow resting on top of it as he made quick work of the food on his plate. He trained dark, serious eyes on her. “I was in the desert because my brother feared what I would become if I was here.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was not until recently that I realized just who he was. What he was doing to our country. It was not until recently I realized that he was very likely the one who’d orchestrated the assassination of my parents.”

His hard blank words hit her like bricks. One after the other. And she was barely able to recover from the first blow when a second arrived.

“I think he was afraid I would know. I think he was afraid of what I would do. So he broke my will. Filled my head with his teachings. His truths. Sent me away where I could be of no threat. To guard the borders. To protect his evil empire while he reduced it to ash from within.” He took another bite of food. “I have been slowly coming awake for years. Slowly coming into understanding.” He looked at her, his gaze so cold it sent a shiver down her spine. “He turned me into a creature. Tortured me until I knew nothing but pain and his words. I am what I was made to be. I doubt I will ever be anything else.”