Chapter 5
I wasn't angry. I walked straight over and pulled the gift list from his desk. "Let me see how many nice things you've prepared for Violetta."
He set down his pen and said calmly, "Put it down."
"No." I flipped through the pages.
A diamond crown, a tailored wedding dress, and a beautiful necklace. Everything looked elegant and high-status.
After a while, I looked up and smiled at him. "Your Majesty, that's impressive. If you gave me half of that, I wouldn't have acted like this."
It was somewhere between truth and a joke.
He frowned at me. "Tiffany, you've been going too far recently."
"Have I?" I tossed the gift list back onto the desk and leaned close to him. "You're marrying someone else. Am I not allowed to make a scene?"
He didn't say a word.
I hated that about him. He was always so calm, like nothing ever really mattered to him.
It always felt as if I was the only one losing control and making a fool of myself.
The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I got. I snatched his pen, grabbed a blank sheet, and scribbled some words. Then I held it up for him to see. "Look. I'm so annoyed that I can't write properly."
I wrote the same old word, "Julian".
My handwriting got better over the years, except for this word. I could never write it properly.
He looked at it without much reaction, took the pen back, and rewrote it next to mine.
He wrote the same word. The writing was neat and steady.
I stared at it and went quiet for a second.
For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed between us. He was still willing to teach me, and I was still willing to learn.
I was still the girl who hid in his arms when I made mistakes, and he was still the one who cleaned up after me.
However, I shut that thought down right away because I saw the document on his desk with Violetta's name on it.
Whatever softened in me immediately turned cold again. "You really are going to marry her, right?"
This time, I didn't smile. My voice was sharper.
He looked at me, his tone flat. "The announcement has already been issued."
"So what?" I stared at him. "If you regret, no one will force you."
He said, "Tiffany."
That same tone again. He sounded like he was trying not to lose his temper.
However, the more he acted like this, the more annoyed I got.
"What do you call her now?" I suddenly asked.
Julian paused. "Who?"
"The queen," I said with a smile. "Now that she's got a place in your heart, you're not still calling her Miss Warner, are you?"
He frowned. "That's none of your business."
"How is it none of my business?" I stepped closer, staring at him. "The woman you're going to marry is the one who'll be sharing your bed every night. And that bothers me."
The room fell silent.
He finally looked up at me, his gaze distant and serious. "You're getting more and more out of line."
"Line?" I laughed. "If I really knew where that stupid line was, I wouldn't have ended up like this."
He said, "If you dare mess with her again—"
"Then what?" I cut him off, my gaze turning icy. "Would you kill me?"
He said nothing, but the silence was worse than any answer.
We stared at each other for a long time, but in the end, I looked away first, because if I didn't, I would be the only one left looking disgraceful.
I turned to leave, but my sleeve got caught, and my hand hit the glass, drawing blood.
It wasn't a serious injury. I didn't think much of it.
He saw it.
He walked over, grabbed my wrist, pulled me back, and started treating the cut.
I glanced down at him and let out a sudden laugh. "Your Majesty, are you always this caring with everyone?"
He didn't bother to look up. He said coolly, "Shut up."
My hand hurt when the ointment touched my skin, but I kept looking at his hand on my wrist, unable to move for a long time.
This pain meant nothing compared to the dull ache in my heart.
Once he finished with the ointment, he quickly let go of my hand, as if that moment of closeness had meant nothing at all.
I felt frustrated again.
It was strange. I hated the way he shut me out, but whenever he showed me a little warmth he shouldn't have, it only made things worse.
Therefore, I deliberately asked, "If you ever have a child, will you dote on him?"
The moment I said it, his expression turned ugly. It was worse than when I talked about the queen or when I forced him to drink with me last night before I died.
Then my smile disappeared instantly.
I knew why he was mad. He hated that kid, and he hated it whenever I mentioned him.
Everyone in the palace knew I brought a child back with me when I came back the second time, but nobody knew how much he meant to me, nor why I seemed to lose control every time I spoke of him.
To everyone else, that kid was only my cover, a bargaining chip to help me stay in the palace.
Julian probably saw it that way, too.
Therefore, every time I brought him up, he'd get irritated and act like he wished I'd shut up.
Seeing his face turn stern, I suddenly felt bored. "See? It was only a casual question, and you're pissed."
He didn't respond, and I didn't say anything else either.
I suddenly realized that no matter how much I argued or hurt him with those harsh words, I was always the one getting hurt in the end.
I pulled my hand away and turned to leave.
When I reached the door, I couldn't stop myself from looking back at him.
He stood there with dusk settling in, his face stern, as if my mention of that child had dragged out something he refused to deal with.
He wouldn't speak. He never did, so I said nothing as well.
The wind outside blew the smell of ointment off my hand.
As I walked back, I realized the thing I was most afraid of was never this injury, but that child.
*****
Julian's headache had grown worse.
Violetta brought the medicine herself and waited outside the room.
Andrew stepped inside and said to Julian, "Her Majesty knows medicine. Maybe she can help you."
He didn't look up. "No need."