Good morning, loves!

thank you to Mel and Pamela!

Chapter 22

Rosalie and I enter the throne room and are greeted by a spectacle. There are men rushing around, dragging tables into the room and setting out long parchment maps on top of them. There are a surprising number of weapons out, and the energy of the room is high and strung tight.

"What is—" I am cut off when the king looks up to see us standing there.

"Rosalie!" he calls, motioning her toward him. I am thrown by his informal greeting to her, but my sister must be used to it, for she lets my hand go and steps toward him.

"Your Majesty," she says demurely.

I wonder why she does not ask what is going on, but then the king looks at her and seems to soften at her compliance. "King Stephen has escalated the situation between our kingdoms," he says, a vicious growl in his throat. "War marches to our doorstep as we speak."

I freeze. War? Surely, he cannot mean it.

"We must ready the citadel, fortify it against an attack." He shifts so that he is fully facing her, his voice lowering. "As the mother of my only son, we must wed now, should anything happen to me."

I gasp, but the sound is lost in the ruckus of the room.

Rosalie, who does not correct him, nods her head in agreement. "Yes, of course."

I reach out to her, trying to make sense of what is happening, but the king is calling for a priest, and I cannot be heard in this loud room.

Rosalie, despite my touch, does not look my way. She steps out of my grasp and approaches the king as the priest joins them near the table.

It is as if I am watching behind a sheet of ice, too frozen to move forward and stop any of it. In a matter of minutes, Rosalie is married, their union sealed with an aggressive kiss from the king.

I cannot catch my breath, cannot understand how any of this has happened. How is it that the king thinks Rosalie's child is his?

When the short ceremony is over, the king turns from her, focusing once again upon his battle strategy.

My head is spinning, my body shaking, but I step forward, taking a breath.

"Sire," I say, lifting my voice enough to be heard over the din.

The king glances at me and smirks. "What is it, my new sister?"

His words make my skin crawl. "The women and children. What is the plan to keep them safe when there is an attack against the city?"

The king's jovial smile falls immediately. "They can take care of themselves," he says, sounding annoyed. "My business is war, not the welfare of children."

My heart skitters around in my chest. "But, sire, there must be some plan—"

He cuts me off. "If you care so much for them," he snarls. "Then take them back to your own land. War is upon us. I do not have time for this emotional drivel!"

His words shock me, and I feel Rosalie's hand close around my arm, dragging me back from him. "Go," she says, gently nudging me toward the doors. "Give him space."

I cannot read the expression on my sister's face. She is flushed, and I do not know if it is from embarrassment, fear, or the adrenaline of marrying on the cusp of war. Perhaps all three.

"Come with me," I tell her. "As the queen, you'll be able to save them."

Rosalie shakes her head. "My place is by his side."

I stare at her. How can she turn her back on all those women and children?

Rosalie nudges me again. "Go," she urges. "I will be fine."

My head is spinning. I do not want to leave my sister here, but what choice do I have? I turn and leave the throne room, a hand rubbing against my temple.

On my way up the stairs, I run into Katherine, who looks as primed for war as any of her father's men downstairs.

"Katherine," I say, my voice urgent as I pull her into an alcove off the steps. It is secluded enough to hide us from view, though I must keep my tone quiet so as not to be overheard. "Please, I need your help."

Her eyes are immediately trained on my face, her full attention on me. "What is it?"

"My sister," I say, shaking my head. "Your father has married her and made her queen."

Katherine's eyes widen, her nostrils flaring. "What?"

"He thinks that her son is his," I continue, shaking my head.

Katherine's eerie eyes are storming. Before she can say anything, there is the clang of footsteps up and down the stairs beside us. We both freeze until they are gone.

"War marches to our doors," Katherine says softly.

"I know," I tell her. "Your father plans to let the women and children fend for themselves as he fortifies the city."

Katherine swears. "We must do something."

"Levenforth is only two days' ride from here," I tell her. "It is a fair distance, but if we can evacuate the women and children, Levenforth's estate can house them."

Katherine nods. "That is a good idea," she agrees. "We will send riders out tonight. Tell them all to pack and be ready to depart by dawn."

I nod in agreement. "I will ready all the women and children of the castle."

Katherine looks at me. "I was right to put my trust in you," she says softly. "You really do have the heart of a tigress."

Her words still send a sick feeling crashing through me, but I give her a small smile. "Thank you for believing me." Her trust is worth more than she can possibly know. I can count on one hand how many people in my life have ever extended such a gift.

Katherine surprises me by pulling me into a swift, tight hug. She lets go before I really have had time to process the action. "I will send riders immediately," she says stiffly. "We shall move out at dawn."

She is moving back downstairs before I can even respond. I exit the alcove, racing up the steps, determined to spread the word.

I am up all night, helping every last woman and child pack their belongings. I urge them all to travel light, so that we may move swiftly, but some of them have a hard time understanding what that means.

Eventually, I manage to get them packed to a single bag which they can carry themselves.

Shortly before dawn, I enter the throne room once again. It is even more chaotic than it was before, and the king is still there, his face drawn and angry.

I take a deep breath and cross the room, curtsying to him. "Your Majesty," I say quickly. "I wanted to inform you that I am having the women and children evacuated as you have instructed."

He glances at me in confusion, but then nods. "Very good."

"Thank you for your wisdom," I say, even though he has provided no such act. My words seem to confuse him even more, so he lifts a hand, waving it toward me.

"Yes, yes," he says hastily. "Now, leave me. There is much still to be done."

Just like that, I am finally free to go.

I let out a shaking breath and turn, looking for my sister. She is no where to be found in the throne room, and hurridly, I rush upstairs, hoping to find her packing.

I spot Bree Tanner on my way and stop her. "Bree," I say, reaching out to her. "Please, will you help me make sure that Charlotte and Peter are safe and on their way to Levenforth? I am entrusting their care with you," I tell her. She gives me a wide-eyed look but then nods.

"Yes, of course, Mistress. I shall care for them with my life."

I smile at her, grateful and send her on her way.

I find my sister's rooms emptied, and I pray that means she is downstairs, preparing to depart.

Having no more time to delay, I make my way out of the castle and into the courtyard where a large group of women and children have gathered, waiting for me. I give them all reassuring smiles as I move toward Sweetblue. "It is a long walk," I tell them all. "But I swear I will do what I can to keep you all safe!"

They look doubtful, but no one argues with me.

I am about to mount my horse, when a strange noise meets my ear. I turn and look when I realize it is a trumpet, followed by the thundering of hooves. My heart squeezes in my chest the moment I see a familiar large figure astride a great stallion.

Edward.

I know it the moment my husband sees me.

His eyes widen, his nostrils flare, and he immediately dismounts his horse, striding across the courtyard toward me.

In the past, I might have cowered at the rage I can see on his face, but not now.

Now, I am a tigress.

I straighten my shoulders, summoning all the courage I can muster. I open my mouth, prepared to greet him coolly and calmly.

But the words never come because Edward does not stop in front of me. Instead, he surprises me by striding right up and hoisting me over his shoulder. I shriek in surprise, embarrassed and furious with him for handling me this way. The way he has lifted me, my breasts are pressed against the top of his shoulder, so my stomach is not being squished, thankfully, but I do twist to deliver a kick near his groin.

He lets out a snarl, stumbling a bit, before his grip on me tightens.

We are inside by the time I manage to get words out of me. "Let go of me, you beast!" I scream. My fists thump against his back, but he seems not to notice. "Edward, by all the saints!" I have never sworn so, but I have never been this furious.

Edward finally sets me down, and the moment my feet are against the floor, my fists slam into his chest. "How dare you!"

"How dare I?" he snarls. "I am not the one who ran away in the middle of the night!"

I pace away from him, my blood so heated I cannot stand to even look his way. "What choice did I have?" I demand. "You drove me to this!" It is too far, and the moment the words are out of my mouth, I feel myself flinch, my body shaking so hard that I need to sit down. I realize we are in some sort of drawing room, and I find the nearest chair, falling into it. Edward is pacing the room like a caged wild animal.

"For months," he says, his tone dangerous and low. "I have waited for word from you. For months, I have wondered if my wife has truly abandoned me with the intention to dissolve our marriage." His eyes flash. "Tell me I am wrong."

His words provoke me into standing again, and I get to my feet, storming across the room to jab him in the chest. "I was not the one who sought dissolution first!" I scream. "I saw your letter to Michael. You meant to leave me from the moment you came home from war." The words catch in my throat, and unbidden, tears are burning hot in my eyes. I blink hard, trying to dispel them, but I can feel them building in my chest, suffocating the air from my body.

"What?" Edward asks, and it sounds as if he has lost some of his fire.

I sniff hard. "Michael showed me your letter," I admit. "At first, I did not believe him, because I had never seen your handwriting." I throw as much venom into that point as I can, and I am gratified to see him flinch. "But then I compared it to the note you left me the morning you went to train with him. Do not deny it."

Edward looks ragged and lost. "I cannot," he says, shaking his head. I have to turn from him so he does not see the tears in my eyes. I can feel my heart cracking in my chest, shattering into a thousand shards so sharp and so cold I do not know that I will ever heal from them.

"So you see," I say after a moment, my back still to him. "I was not the first to leave our marriage."

Edward makes a sound, some cross between a groan and a grunt. "Bella, look at me."

When I refuse to turn around, I hear him step toward me, and before I can stop him, he is grabbing me by the shoulders and spinning me to face him. It makes me dizzy, but his hands on my arms keeps me steady. "I wrote that letter, I cannot deny it. But when I wrote it, I truly thought you hated me. I could not bear to see the look of pain and fear on your face whenever I entered a room. I wrote that in a moment of uncertainty and weakness. I doubted you, and it was the greatest mistake I could have ever made."

I take a breath and feel my throat stutter around it. "Tell me why they call you Le Lion."

I see it on his face, the toll of my question. I see something deep inside him break, the exterior he fights so hard to maintain crumbling as a rush of agony sweeps across his face.

"I cannot," he says, his voice more pained than anything I have ever heard.

"I cannot be in this marriage with so many lies and secrets between us," I tell him. "I will not."

Edward shakes his head, pacing away from me. I stare at his back, wondering if he will push me away again. I do not know what I will do if that is the case.

Finally, Edward looks at me. "I was no one," he says slowly. "A farm boy who joined the duke's army to help support my family. I have always been strong with fast reflexes, so it seemed a natural fit." His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. "Duke Cross was cruel and neglectful. His men were poorly treated, and when I came to work for him, I sought fairer treatment, better pay. I was an advocate, and the men trusted me." He glances at me. "I wanted to leave the duke's employment, but by then, my popularity amongst the soldiers had grown too great. He feared I would leave and take his best men with me." He lets out a sigh, shaking his head. "That's when he made the bargain with me. Marry the sister of his future wife and my family would be cared for regardless of how long I lived. It was an opportunity too good to refuse." Edward's eyes shut for a moment, as if he is reliving some terrible pain. "When he sent me to war, I was nothing more than a soldier. But I was good at following orders, and even at predicting what our enemies would do. My mind, despite my heart's desire for peace, thrived in military strategy." Edward looks at me, tears burning in his bright eyes. "I have killed so many men. Some of them with my bare hands." At that, his fingers flex, and I wonder if he can recall the feeling of taking a life that way. "Most days, I cannot stand to live with my own memories. To know the devastation I have wrought for a selfish man." Edward shakes his head. "I loathe war, but it is the one thing in this life that I am good at. Violence comes to me so effortlessly." He paces away from me. "The men called me Le Lion because they had never seen anyone as good at killing as I was."

My heart is thudding in my chest; confused, shattered beats that pierce through me with each breath. "Who are you, truly?"

Edward looks at me from across the room. "I am Le Lion," he says, his voice filled with shame. "But I am also the farm boy who abhors violence." His eyes squeeze shut. "I cannot be one without the other. Life has twisted and bent me into this shape, and now, I know nothing else."

My hands are shaking, and I fold them together, crossing them over my chest. "Thank you for telling me that," I say after a moment. Edward glances at me. He looks so lost and uncertain, like a child after being reprimanded. I realize that there is more I need to say; my voice needs to be heard. I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. "Your brutality scares me," I admit. "I have known nothing but violence my whole life, and it is not a pattern I wish to continue living in."

Edward collapses to the nearest seat, his head in his hands. "I never have meant harm against you," he says, sounding miserable. "My fear is so tied with action that whenever I see even the smallest threat against you, I cannot stop a visceral reaction to it."

I shake my head. "Your barbarity has never hurt me as much as your silence has." My eyes move over his face. "Why were you so cruel to me?" I ask, my voice more vulnerable than I had planned.

Edward flinches as if I have struck him. "Who I am with you is not who I am when I am at war," he says softly. "I must make a different version of myself, harden myself so that I will not fall victim to my emotions." Edward's eyes are wet as he looks up at me. "I am not strong enough to hold and handle all of my feelings at once."

"You broke my heart," I tell him, not wanting to hurt him but needing him to know. "I thought you had truly deceived me, that you, like others in my life, never truly loved me."

Edward curls in on himself, like a flag that has lost all hope of a breeze. I hesitate, fighting with myself over the urge to go to him.

"You have always been my heart," he says softly. "The core of everything. It is such a wild and dangerous feeling to love you so deeply that it often scares me. I am not brave enough to hold my love for you against the possibility of you being hurt. I would rather cut the feelings from me, do what I must so that I know you will be safe, even if it means hurting you." His confession leaves me feeling raw, and I fight back tears of my own.

"You silenced my voice," I tell him. "After so many years of not having a say in any part of my life, I am finally learning to have my own voice," I tell him. "I will not live a life where I am silenced or ignored. Never again."

He looks up at me. "It has never been my intention to make you feel that way," he says softly. "I foolishly thought it easier to shut you out from the savagery of my world, even if that included myself, than risk that darkness touching you for even a second." He stops, his eyes imploring as he gazes at me. "I have done everything in my power to protect you from those who would wish you harm."

"What do you mean?" I ask, unsure I truly want to know if my life has indeed been threatened.

Edward hesitates. "No one is without an agenda," he says cautiously. "Even myself." He pauses, gazing at me. "My agenda has always been, above all else, your safety. My world is dangerous, and I have never wanted you to be brought into that."

I do not understand what he means. What is he still not telling me?

I let out a long breath, my gaze turning to the window. On the one hand, it is easy to believe him. In action, Edward has done so much to ensure my safety. I suppose even his coldness has been a twisted effort to keep me at arm's length. It is convoluted, completely backwards, but in some sense, I understand it.

What I do not understand is what it is he fears now. It must be great because I can see he will not tell me. Can I live with that knowledge? Knowing there is something he will always be keeping for me, but trusting blindly that whatever it is, he is keeping me safe?

I turn back to him. "Is this why you never write me?"

Edward lets out a heavy breath. "Yes. That, and I was a coward." He winces, looking down at his hands. "I had built a fantasy around you, around the life we would have. It saved me time and again in war. I could not risk reality not meeting that dream, or I feared I would fall apart completely."

I reach a hand up, rubbing my forehead. "Edward, we are not living in a fantasy," I say slowly.

"I know that," he says quickly. "I just…" He pauses, looking up at me again. "Bella, I cherish you more than my own life. Do you know how risky and reckless it feels to love something so much?"

My breath skitters in my chest, and for a long moment, the silence between us grows taut. Finally, I let out a sigh. "Yes," I whisper.

Edward stands, as if my answer has renewed strength in him. "Truly?" he asks, his voice brimming with hope.

I take a step back from him, holding a hand up. "Edward, stop." I have to take a breath to calm myself enough to speak clearly to him. "I can still love you, but it does not change the truth of how you have treated me." My eyes grow watery, and I bring a hand up to the slight bump of my stomach. "Why did you not write me back?"

Edward's eyes are wide, and his gaze falls to my stomach in shock before looking back at my face. "Bella, are you pregnant?"

His uncertainty confuses me, and I reach up to wipe tears from my cheeks. "Yes. I wrote to you months ago."

He is rushing toward me before I am even finished speaking, falling to his knees before me as he winds his arms around my waist and presses his face to my stomach. "I received nothing," he says, his tears meeting my dress. "Had I known." His voice is a broken sob as he cradles me closer. My heart aches, and I finally let myself reach out, my fingers brushing through his hair as he cries into my stomach.

"I wrote to you several times," I say, a sinking feeling growing in me.

"I never got your letters," he says, shaking his head. "I thought you were using my own weapon of silence against me."

My heart sinks. If he did not receive my letters, what happened to them?

"We have buried each other under mountains of miscommunication," I mutter softly. "It must end."

Edward tilts his face up at me, his bright eyes shining with his tears. "I swear it," he says softly. "Bella, nothing is more important to me than you."

"I believe you," I say slowly. "Edward, there is something you are keeping from me—"

Before I can finish my thought, the door is slamming open. I look up to see Emmett filling the entryway. "Sir," he says, his eyes darting away from Edward on his knees before me.

Edward stands swiftly, rubbing at his face while Emmett is looking elsewhere. "What is it?" Edward's voice is firm and hard.

"The king has summoned you," Emmett says, glancing back at him.

Edward opens his mouth, perhaps to protest, but I reach out to him, my hand landing on his arm. "Go to him," I urge. "I am in the midst of evacuating the women and children," I tell him.

He looks at me in surprise. "Where?"

"I am taking them to Levenforth. It was the only place I could think of."

Edward nods. "Emmett, take a squadron of men and accompany my wife and her charges. I want every woman and child to make it to safety."

Emmett nods, and Edward turns to me. "I must go," he says, reaching down to take my hands in his. "But I swear to you, as soon as I am able, I will be home and we will sort all of this out." He reaches a hand out to press against my stomach. "I will not miss another moment of my child's life."

My heart skips in my chest. "Be safe," I whisper.

Edward nods, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of my head. "You are my life," he murmurs. "Everything I do, I do for you."

I have heard him vow this before, but it is perhaps the first time I might truly believe him.

"Go," I say, gently pushing him toward the door. "The king is not a patient man."

Despite this, Edward hesitates. "Bella," he says slowly, his face riddled with uncertainty.

I frown. "What is it?"

"You are right. I have been keeping something from you."

My heart sinks, even though I am unsurprised by his words. "What?"

"Your sister."

I am immediately defensive. I know he has clashed with her in the past, but I have chalked it up to part of the baggage he has carried with him since war.

"What?" I ask, wary to hear him on this matter.

He lets out a long breath. "You cannot trust her." I open my mouth to argue with him, but he cuts me off. "Bella, your sister has been betraying you since before you and I ever met. She has been manipulating you and everyone around you for years."

I stare at him. "What do you mean?"

He shakes his head. "You must believe me," he says, his voice urgent. "She cannot be trusted."

None of his words make any sense. How can my sweet, dear sister have anything to do with any of this mess?

"You are wrong," I say, shaking my head. "You're mistaken."

Edward lets out a tense breath. "Bella, she was the one who killed the duke."