“Certainly not the time for sobriety. Am thinking I need to get hammered. Sooner rather than later.”
She let out a puff of irritated breath. “Bastien Aros Cabarro!”
“?da!”
With an irritated sigh, she patted at her hair—as if any strand would dare defy her.
Unlike her youngest child. He could practically hear her shrieking at his father in her elegant head—You just had to have that extra spare for your throne, didn’t you? This is all your fault, Newie!
Luckily, her composure never wavered. She merely cleared her throat in that delicate, regal way only his mother could manage. “Well, as mad as I am at you, at least you stepped up and didn’t leave her and your child abandoned. I can’t fault you there. But I don’t envy you the bed you’ve made for yourself. Her family—and in particular, her zusa—will not be so receptive of you, nor will they view this kindly. More than that, we’re at war and no one knows how this is going to turn out, especially with the recent attemps that have been made on all our lives. Bad timing, svenn … bad, bad timing.”
“What do you expect from the child who crashed a dinner party on arrival? I’ve been nothing but a pain in your bacrat since the day I ruined your favorite dress and upholstery with my inconsiderate birth during the second course.”
Reaching up with a quick smirk, she tugged playfully at his ear. “And yet you’ve always been my favorite. What does that say about me?”
“You’re a glutton for punishment and that Miksa didn’t beat you enough when you were a girl.”
That finally wrung a laugh from her. “No. Never. Just an easy mark for that beautiful smile of yours. I’ve never been able to deny you anything. You know that.” She brushed gently at his hair. “I just wish you wouldn’t put yourself in such horrible situations.”
“I know. I should be more like Quin.”
“I’ve never said that. While I love your theren … and your zusa, they lack your resilience and charm. Your quick thinking. Pity, that. It’s why I want Quin to make you his chancellor.”
Bastien laughed. “That’ll never happen. He has no respect for my opinion and even less for my politics.”
As she drew a breath to respond, the doors opened to show Alura in one of his mother’s older gowns.
And by older, it was one his mother had worn earlier in the year. The vibrant blue set off Alura’s coloring to perfection.
Yet it left him cold. Because in his heart, it was Ember he wanted to see here, by his side.
It’s not meant to be.
Especially not after this.
He could bemoan it all he wanted, but it would change nothing. Ember was gone forever now. He’d slammed that door and bolted it shut. And he had no one else to blame.
Alura was his future now.
Come hell or high water, he’d make the best of it. As his mother had said, he’d do his best by her. While he’d been drunker than Bob’s cat when he’d gone to bed with her and couldn’t even recall getting to her condo, never mind sleeping with her, he wouldn’t deny waking up naked the next morning by her side. With a hangover that would rival the power of a League strike force.
As for the baby, it would be tested as soon as it was born, as a matter of course. All royal children were required to be scanned for their DNA. Not just to ensure lineage, but to screen for any birth defects or possible health concerns, and to have a sample on file should the child ever be kidnapped.
Or executed.
Alura knew that as well as he did, so there was no need to question the father of the baby, since she knew the truth would come out if she were lying.
I always wanted to be a father.
Just not with Alura as the mother.
Yet since she was, and he couldn’t change it, he would show her nothing save devotion and respect. That was the least he could do.
Forcing a smile for her, he held his arm out so that he could escort her back to the party. “Shall we?”
Her triumphant grin was dazzling as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Thank you, Bastien.”
“For what?”
“Not denouncing me.”
“Cabarros don’t denounce their own.”
She pressed herself against his arm and leaned against him. An act that left him even colder as it reminded him of how Ember used to hold him.
His mother was right. This would kill Ember when she heard it. For that alone, he wanted to cut his own throat. And he’d never forgive himself for doing this to her.
Digusted with himself, he led Alura back to the party where everyone waited for more juicy bits that he refused to give them. Let them speculate. They’d make up whatever truth they wanted, anyway. Wouldn’t matter what he said. Or what the real facts were. They’d lie regardless.