He nodded, his fingers gradually becoming tighter on mine. “I would not forgive myself if you had, Amara.”
“I don't think I did.” I looked out to my balcony where a man was standing guard, and knew only too well that one of my knights would be right outside my door, too. I wondered if that meant I’d lost the argument about having no guards. “Didn't any of the Guard see me that night—at least walking toward the lighthouse?”
“Perhaps. However, all we’ve concluded so far is that you came back to your room before you went down there.”
“How do you know that?”
“You were wearing a nightdress when David found you—not that there was much left of it.”
That painted a grisly picture in my head. “Didn't anyone report having seen me?”
“No. Not since dinner that night. And the men in the Guard who line the halls are not permitted to divulge, even if they had seen you.”
“Why?”
“They swear a vow of secrecy, which protects you from infiltrators. Often, a simple thing like the whereabouts of the queen or the company she keeps can be enough to tear a monarchy down or see a traitor get the upper hand.” He eyed me for a few seconds. “I do find it awfully suspicious that you have no memory of anything after I left you that night, though.”
I rubbed my head. “Arthur. I fell down, like, four hundred feet, onto jagged rocks. I bet my brain was the first thing to die.”
“Yes.” His gaze became shadowed then, his thumb brushing my right brow. “Your skull was caved in on one side.”
I touched my head, my eyes wide. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “David said you were down there for quite some time; he was, unfortunately, sitting on the lighthouse when he saw something strange against the rocks, but saw no need to investigate until a blue flash sparked from it.”
“Well, what was he doing up on the lighthouse?”
“Waiting for the manor to stir. He was here to see you—planned to tell you the truth about everything—ask for your help.”
“With what?”
“Getting the dagger.”
I grinned. “I’d never do that.”
“For him, I believe you would.” He nodded once.
“Not to send him to his death.”
“Hm.” He nodded again. “Anyhow, it matters none, my dear. The issue has been resolved.”
“How?”
“I offered him the dagger.”
“What?” I sat up.
Arthur pushed me back down. “On the condition he stays until you’ve conceived a child—an heir.”
“But, I don't want that. I don't want him to die…”
Arthur smiled, his eyes betraying a deeper plan. “Ever heard of a turkey baster?”
“A what?”
“We can create a child in the artificial method.” He cleared his throat. “As if I were merely a donor.”
“Whoa. You wanna put your….”
“Seed.”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “…Into a turkey baster, and….”
“Precisely.” He held back laughter. “You can be alone when you do this, and there is no need for me to hurt you by touching you that way. Then, as per our previous plan, I will become king by rights, and I will take to kill Drake.”
“And David doesn’t know this bit?”
“No. But when he learns the child is not his, we may have a hard time convincing him I’d not touched you.”
I nodded. “And then what? Will he hate me?”
“For a while, I'm certain of it.”
I covered my mouth.
“He feels strongly about infidelity, my dear—so strongly, in fact, that after Arietta was murdered, I suspected David had killed her. He never approved of Arietta betraying Victor.”
“He didn’t kill her though, right?” I held my breath.
“I hope not.” Arthur patted my hand. “Just be prepared when he learns the child is not his. He will be bitter for a while, but he will come to see that you were not unfaithful, and hope for your future will not be lost entirely.”
“When should we, um—?”
“Not today.” He grinned. “You need to rest.”
“So, do we need to stop the coronation?”
“No. Go ahead with it. If I father the child, I will reign higher than David anyway.”
“Hey,” Jase said, rapping on my door as he opened it.
“Hey. Did you eat?”
He nodded and walked in humbly. “Yeah. All good now.”
Both Arthur and Jason remained quiet for a second, looking at each other, until Jason nodded and Arthur stood. “Well, my dear, I shall leave you in Jason’s capable hands. I have a few things to take care of.”
“Okay, thanks, Arthur.”
He leaned down and kissed my brow. “Be safe.”
I smiled at him as he walked away; he stopped by Jason, cupped his shoulder firmly and gave him a reassuring smile.
“Of course, Uncle,” Jase said, nodding, and Arthur left.
“And then there was one,” I said.
He appeared on the chair where David was when I woke up. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry.”
“I nearly killed him, you know.” He stared at the ground between his legs. “I thought he’d—” He paused. “I thought he did that to you.”
“David?” I exclaimed. “He’d never hurt me.”
Jason shook his head, his gaze distant.
“I'm really sorry.” I reached for his hand. “I can’t say it won’t happen again, because I don't know how it happened.”
“No, it’s safe to say it won’t happen again.” He squeezed my hand. “That I can promise.”
“Oh yeah,” I challenged, with a grin. “And what are you going to do, sleep on the end of my bed?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“I don't think David would approve of that.”
“He can bite me.”
I laughed aloud, throwing my head back. “He just might do that.”
“No, he’d get more joy out of torturing me by touching you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he’s only too aware that every time he kisses you, strokes your hair, sends me away, tells me I need to leave you to rest, it kills me—it kills me that he gets to make that decision.”
“He’s my husband.”