Nora or my country.
I can’t have both.
If I choose Nora, come forward with concrete proof of her mother’s lies, I’ll put my freedom at risk, which would eventually fall back on the monarchy for covering up the death of a young man and his unborn child.
But if I choose the monarchy, I lose part of who I am.
I’ll lose my heart.
As I step into the formal living room of our private quarters, I have no idea what I’ll walk into. No idea what choice to make. No idea if Nora will even still be here or if she’s already been forced out during my absence, my decision made for me.
Thankfully, that’s not the case, a lone light illuminating her on the couch, back straight, shoulders squared, legs at an angle and crossed at the ankle.
Just like she was trained.
Then I notice the suitcase beside her, the blue tanzanite ring sitting on the side table. My heart squeezes, throat closing up.
“I contemplated leaving a few hours ago,” she says flatly. “But I thought I owed it to you to say goodbye in person.”
“I assume someone updated you on, well...everything.”
“Your grandmother came to see me.” She stands. “We played chess.”
“Chess?”
“Yes. Chess. But even before her visit, I knew how this would end. I think I’ve known for a while but was too stubborn to admit it.” She smiles sadly. “I think we both were.”
“It doesn’t have to,” I plead, stepping toward her. “We’ll figure out a different way. In chess, you can’t just look one move ahead. You plan for the next four or five. If we just do that—”
“There is no move, Anders. Someone must be realistic here. Someone has to admit it’s over. That it’s been over since that plane touched down.”
She laughs under her breath. “It’s been a while since I’ve played chess.” A small smile tugs on her lips as she swipes away a few tears. “Hunter loved to play. He’s the one who taught me. Do you want to know why he loved the game so much?”
“Because it involves strategy.”
“Yes, but that’s not the only reason. It’s because it mimics life. Like you said, it’s not about making a decision based on what’s in front of you at this very moment, but on things you can foresee happening down the road. Because of that, I know this is the only option.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” I clutch her arms, clinging onto the last shred of hope.
“Chess is a game of absolutes. How you use those absolutes to dominate the board is where the strategy comes in. But no matter how you use those rules to your advantage, one thing remains absolutely certain.”
“And what’s that?” I ask softly.
She peers up at me through tear-filled eyes. “You can’t sacrifice your king and still win the match.”
Dropping my hold on her, I hang my head, the ache in my chest excruciating. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been at war with my diagnosis lately, torn between not wanting to saddle Nora with a husband who will become increasingly dependent on other people every day and selfishly wanting to keep her with me. It’s one thing to end things on our own terms. It’s another when that decision is made for us.
She touches my cheek, pulling my eyes to hers. “But you can sacrifice your queen to save the king.”
I shake my head, wanting to tell her again it doesn’t have to be this way, but it does. We both know it. “I don’t want to lose you,” I choke out.
“And I don’t want to lose you, but this is the only move we have left. We gave it a shot, Anders. I thought our love would be strong enough. We both need to face the cruel reality that it isn’t. At least not to survive your world. If we don’t do this, if we don’t walk away now, there will be nothing left of either of us to salvage.”
I knead at my chest in an effort to stop the pain, but I doubt anything ever will. Returning my gaze to hers, I cup her cheeks in my firm grasp. “You will always own my heart,” I declare passionately. “Always.”
“And you will always own mine,” she squeaks out. “Always.”
I seal my mouth over hers, pouring everything I have into the kiss. All my anger. All my sorrow. All my fears. All my love. She grips me tighter, desperation and anguish consuming her, consuming me. I’m not sure what has my tears falling more steadily. That this is goodbye, or because I’m not fighting harder for her.
I now understand why my mother pushed people away after her diagnosis. It wasn’t selfish. It was selfless. She didn’t want to burden those she loved with taking care of her.
That’s what I’m doing now, too.
At least that’s what I try to convince myself.
When she pulls away and peers into my eyes, I nearly beg her not to go. I hate the idea of not waking up to those eyes every day. But I hate what she’d miss out on more. After all the grief I caused her, after everything I took from her, she deserves a normal life.
She’ll never have that with me.
I clear my throat. “What are you doing about your flight?” I ask, switching into problem-solver mode, doing my best to keep my emotions at bay.
“Your grandmother arranged for me to use the jet one last time. Kylian… O’Kelly will accompany me. He’ll make sure I reach my destination safely.”
“Do you want me to come with you, too?” I ask before I stop to consider the ramifications.
Even if she agrees, I won’t be allowed. As the Privy Council instructed, it’s imperative I not be seen with her. Not if we stand a chance to keep the monarchy intact.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nora replies. “The best thing for us is a clean break.”
“Why do I get the feeling there’s nothing clean about this?”
She lifts her glossy eyes back to mine, tears threatening to escape once more. “Because there isn’t. This is as messy and dirty as can be. But I don’t see any other option. Do you?” Her voice carries a twinge of hope.
I avert my gaze. “I don’t.”
Spine straight, she re-secures the mask she wore for years. The same mask she wore when we met. The one I chipped away at. And the one I forced her to put back on when I introduced her to this world.
“I’ll keep you updated on Little Pickle. Despite everything, I’d still like you to be in his life, at least as much as you’re able. He won’t have to know who you are. I mean, he’ll know who you are, but not what you are, if that makes sense.
I arch a brow. “He?”
Sadness covers her expression as she rests her hand on her stomach. “Just a feeling I have.”
When she first told me she was pregnant, I was beyond excited about the prospect of having a child. But I sensed an unease within her. A fear. I couldn’t quite explain it, but for several weeks, it felt like she purposefully avoided any reminder that she was pregnant, not even touching her stomach, probably out of fear she’d get attached to this life growing inside only for it to be taken away.
But lately, she’s gotten over that fear.
If she can get over hers, why can’t I get over mine?
“I’d like that,” I tell her. “If it’s not too difficult, I’d like to be there when he’s born. Maybe schedule a few trips out there for some of your appointments.”