‘That’s the only reason we have separate rooms? For the look of it?’ she asked as lightly as she could through gritted teeth. ‘I thought you didn’t bring me along to kiss me.’
His gaze intensified, drilling through her. ‘I think we ought to eat out. I’ll knock on your door in half an hour.’
Food? Again?
She half groaned, half laughed, and let herself into her room. Maybe eating was the perfect displacement activity for them both.
She tossed Juno’s carry-all onto the bed and unzipped it to find a fresh sweater to wear. But given she’d packed in a hurry, she ended up tipping the entire jumbled contents onto the bed. As she went to lift the empty bag away, she felt a hard object in the interior pocket. She frowned, not remembering what it was she’d put in there. She unzipped it and paused when she saw the sheaf of papers. She hadn’t put this in there.
Her blood chilled as she realised these documents must be Juno’s. Jade had thought the bag was empty. But curiosity had her in its claws, because she’d caught a glimpse of photos in there, and she’d recognised the name on the top corner of one of the papers.
Alice Monroe.
Jade pulled out the pile before she could guilt herself into stopping. Because this was personal and private and she shouldn’t...but why shouldn’t she, when this was her mother, and her sister?
It was the photograph that consumed her first. Juno must’ve been about fifteen and she was standing. The defiant tilt to her mouth contrasted sharply with the sadness dulling her eyes. Jade recognised strain and pain and a world of things she shouldn’t have had to face. Not alone. Not cast out.
Because the thin, worn woman she was standing next to at a slight distance? Their mother—Alice. That formerly beautiful, once celebrated actress. In this wretched instant-print snap, she was holding a glass at an angle and her addiction on her face. All the vitality she’d once had, sucked out of her.
But she’d known so little about her mother and of the world that Juno had grown up in. And seeing this discharge form now? From a city hospital where her mother had been briefly admitted to ‘rehydrate’?
Jade had grown up in an abnormally strict world, but Juno’s simply hadn’t been safe. She’d been alone and dealing with adult things from such an early age. Because there it was—her sister’s handwriting, filling in the utilities forms when the banks were foreclosing. These few pieces of paper revealed so much.
Jade almost snatched up her phone. But she and Juno had vowed not to make contact unless there was a crisis. And this could hardly be called a crisis.
But her heart ached for her sister. For everything they’d missed out on together. They’d not been able to support each other the way they should have.
She thought about Juno’s reasons for wanting these weeks in Monrova—they’d been layered. Juno had looked after their mother. And now she’d wanted to look after Jade regarding that marriage of convenience. But she’d not told Jade these details from her life here. She’d not confided in her.
Jade had been protected for so long. Jade, whom Juno still wanted to protect—from the big bad wolf she’d seen King Leonardo as.
As if Jade couldn’t make decisions for herself?
And she’d not. She’d done everything her father had told her to. She’d only been considering that stupid marriage contract because of her father.
Why? Because she’d been too scared not to. Because she’d always been too scared.
No one seemed to think she could manage on her own. That she could handle these decisions. They all wanted to guide her, to protect her. To have her as Queen, yes. But only ever a dutiful one. Because she’d not been vocal enough. She’d not said what she wanted.
Not the way Alvaro had encouraged her to. Not in any aspect of her life. Except the most intimate now. He wanted nothing more than for her to scream her desire. He wanted to please her, but not in the same way as so many others in her life wanted to please her. Not as Queen and servant, or Queen and subject, or as Queen and someone simply curious. But as equals.
He’d dared her to be open and honest about the littlest of things and she’d struggled with that. She’d spent her life being careful not to upset anyone—trained to be the ultimate diplomat.
Or was that doormat?
A low anger throbbed within her.
She loved that her sister wanted to care for her, but she didn’t need her to. She didn’t want Juno to feel that she had to protect her. That was the problem—that there was this assumption that Jade was somehow rarefied...more fragile, or more precious than other people?
Of course, she wasn’t.
She’d been a coward. She should have stood up to her father years ago when he’d been awful to Juno, awful to her mother, awful to her. She should have challenged his old advisors. If she’d only had courage. Regret swamped her. The horrendous feeling of failure submerged her in acid. She presented this facade of capability, of being a perfectly studied monarch, when she was so far from it. When she was a far less than perfect person.
She’d not been naive in her consideration of a political alliance. She’d known what it would have meant and only a couple of weeks ago she’d been willing to accept discretion—to turn a blind eye while having no lover for herself. But what she’d said to Alvaro this afternoon was her truth now. She didn’t want to marry. She couldn’t.
That you could fall in love quickly? That was possible. She was horribly sure of it. It was about the only thing she was sure of right now.
The knock on her door startled her. Alvaro. She couldn’t face his all-seeing eyes like this. She couldn’t hide the truth of her heart.
But he knocked again. ‘Jade?’
She could hear his concern. She couldn’t ignore him—he’d have security up here in a heartbeat.
‘One second,’ she called out as she got up and went to the door. She opened it a fraction. ‘I’m sorry—’
His gaze narrowed instantly. ‘What’s wrong?’
He’d pushed her door wider and stepped into the room before she had the chance to answer. His gaze hit the scattered papers on the floor—and that awful photo of her formerly glamorous mother and her strained-looking sister.
Jade knelt to gather the papers, but her hands were shaking. He was beside her in less than a second, helping her—emotionlessly, so politely not even looking. But she knew he couldn’t avoid seeing it.
‘The carry-all is an old bag of Juno’s. I didn’t realise it had anything in it,’ she explained quietly without looking at him.
She put them back into the bag. She’d explain to Juno that she’d borrowed the bag, and she’d seen the hidden contents by accident.