When the heavy parlor doors quietly clicked behind him, Greg turned and instinctively took a step toward them. Was it right for him to leave Aziza in that room alone with his mother?
"Alexander," his father’s voice stopped him before he could reach the doors.
Greg's shoulders tensed. He slowly turned to face the King. His father stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable.
"I would like a word."
Greg glanced toward the closed doors once more, "I told Aziza I'd be waiting for her."
"You will," his father's tone was calm. "I suspect your mother will have considerably more to say than I do."
Greg wasn't convinced. His father rarely wanted "just a word." Experience had taught him those conversations usually ended with commands disguised as advice.
"I'd rather stay here."
“It will only be a few minutes,” his features softened ever so slightly. This was his father speaking… not the King.
Greg hesitated.
A faint smile tugged at one corner of his father’s mouth, “Your mother and your wife have only just begun speaking. You know how your mother can be."
Greg couldn't argue with that. His mother had a talent for conversations that lasted far longer than anyone anticipated.
"You will be back before they finish."
Greg let out a slow breath and against his better judgment, he nodded, "Fine."
His father gestured toward one of the side corridors.
"Walk with me."
They left the parlor behind, passing through several quiet hallways before stepping through a set of glass doors leading into the palace gardens. The afternoon sun bathed the grounds in warm golden light. Perfectly trimmed hedges bordered winding stone pathways and fountains murmured softly nearby. Beds of blooming roses filled the air with their fragrance.
It should have been peaceful. Instead, Greg felt as though he were walking toward a battlefield.
For several moments, neither of them spoke. The silence only deepened Greg's suspicion. What's the angle? His father wasn't known for idle conversation. If he had asked Greg here, there was a reason.
Finally, the King broke the silence. "I've been thinking about your wife."
Greg's jaw tightened, "I'm sure you have."
“She seems like a kind young woman,” his father remarked, ignoring the edge in his voice.
Greg blinked. That wasn't the opening he'd expected.
"She is."
The King nodded, "She’s polite, intelligent, and compassionate."
Greg looked sideways at him. “Thank you.”
"I mean it," his father slowed his pace. "I don't dislike Miss McIntyre."
“Don’t you mean, Princess Aziza,” Greg asked, jamming his hands in his pockets. “Remember, she’s my wife now.”
“Yes, yes. Forgive me.” His father paused for a moment before continuing. "In fact, I rather admire what we've learned about her."
"Then why are we having this conversation?" he asked, glancing at his father again.
His father sighed, "Because admiration does not erase reality."
They reached one of the fountains before stopping. Water cascaded over carved white stone into a shallow pool, as his father rested one hand against the fountain's edge.
"As your father…" he paused. "I am asking you to think beyond today."
Greg folded his arms, "I have."
"No. You've thought about protecting her now. I want you to think about protecting her five years from now."
Greg remained silent.
His father looked directly at him. "Do you truly understand what awaits her?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe you do," his father's voice remained surprisingly gentle. "The tabloids you've endured for years? They will turn their attention to her, examining every photograph from her childhood. They will investigate every friend, teacher, and mistake she has ever made."
Greg pictured Aziza reading cruel headlines. The thought made something twist painfully in his chest.
His father continued, "They will criticize the way she dresses and compare her to every royal woman who came before her. Her intelligence will be questioned. Her motivations will also be questioned to the point where she’ll be accused of marrying you for wealth. They may even threaten her."
Greg looked away toward the gardens. He'd already imagined much of it and every possibility terrified him; however, it still wasn’t enough to let her go.
The King noticed his silence. "I can see you've considered it."
"I have and yet..." Greg met his father's gaze. "I still won't leave her."
His father nodded slowly, "I believe you care for her."
Greg almost laughed. Care? That word hardly seemed strong enough anymore.
"I do," the admission came quietly.
His father studied him for a long moment. "More than you expected."
Greg didn't answer. He didn't need to though. By the look on his father’s face, the truth was written plainly across his own.
“Alexander…” his father's expression softened. "I know I've made mistakes."
Greg raised an eyebrow. That was new.
“I know you believe I have failed you as a father.”
Greg looked at him carefully. Where was this going?
"But believe me when I tell you… I am trying to spare both of you."
Greg remained unconvinced.
"If you seek an annulment now..." his father said. “Your wife can return to her life. She can finish her education and build a career. Maybe even find happiness away from the scrutiny of this family."
His voice grew quieter, "She can fall in love."
Greg frowned, "I already have."
His father paused.
Greg realized what he'd said. He hadn't meant to say it aloud. Silence settled between them.
His father searched his face. "So… it truly is that serious."
“I don’t know when it happened,” Greg exhaled slowly. "I don't even know how… but yes. I love her."
The words surprised even him. Yet, the moment he said them… he knew they were true. His father closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, sadness flickered across his features.
"Then let her go."
Greg stared at him.
His father continued, "If you truly love her, don't condemn her to this."
Greg shook his head, "No."
His father's brow furrowed. "No?"
"I asked her to stay. I promised I'd stand beside her. I won't break that promise because things become difficult."
The King's patience visibly thinned, "Sometimes love requires sacrifice."
Greg nodded, "I agree."
"Then sacrifice your own happiness."
"I am."
“No,” his father's voice sharpened. "You're sacrificing hers."
Greg felt irritation rise, "You're assuming she doesn't get a choice. She chose this."
"She doesn't understand what she's choosing."
"Neither did I, and I grew up in this," Greg shot back. "I've spent years trying to escape this place."
"And now you're trying to drag her into it." The King's expression hardened. "I am trying to save her."
"No," Greg took a step closer. "You're trying to save the Crown."
Silence fell between them. The gentle fatherly mask slipped. Just enough for Greg to notice.
There it is.
He knew it. Every kind word, sympathetic look, and appeal. There had been something underneath it all.
The King straightened to his full height. His voice lost every trace of warmth, "As your king, I am ordering you to reconsider."
Greg's heart sank. Finally, he showed up.
The king. Not the father that he tried to be earlier.
"You will pursue an annulment. If you refuse… I will be forced to act."
Greg laughed bitterly, "It never fails."
The King frowned. "What?"
"I wondered how long it would take," Greg's voice rose. "I knew the caring father routine wouldn't last. It was only a matter of time before you played the king."
"Alexander…"
"No," Greg's temper finally snapped. He knew better than to raise his voice at his king, but he couldn’t stop himself. "You tried guilt. You tried reason. You even tried pretending this was about Aziza and when none of that worked, you reached for the crown."
His father didn't deny it, "I am your King…"
"And you're supposed to be my father."
The words hung heavily between them. Greg's chest rose and fell with anger.
The King looked at him squarely, "If that's your final answer..."
"It is."
The King's voice echoed with royal authority, "Disobedience carries consequences."
"I know."
"You may lose your titles."
"I know."
"You may be removed from the line of succession."
"I know."
"You could face charges for defying the Crown."
Greg's expression never wavered, "If that's what it costs, then so be it."
The King's eyes narrowed. "I could exile you."
A humorless smile crossed Greg's face. "You'd be doing me a favor."
His father blinked.
Greg continued, "I never wanted to come back here. I kept my end of the bargain. I stayed out of trouble. I worked hard, earned my freedom, and the first thing that happens when I return is you demanding I abandon my wife."
His voice softened, "Aziza and I may not have come into this union in the most ideal way, but I don’t see this as a mistake. Whether inebriated or sober, this is what we decided together. I'd rather leave this palace forever than betray her."
The words struck the King like a physical blow. For the first time, he looked less like a monarch and more like a father who had just heard something he never expected from his son.
Neither man spoke. The only sound was the steady splash of the fountain behind them. Finally, the King gave one slow nod. His face became unreadable once more.
"So be it," He said, turning away. After several steps, he stopped without looking back. "You've brought this upon yourself."
Then he walked away, leaving Greg alone in the gardens.
Greg stood motionless, his hands clenched into fists. His pulse still thundered from the confrontation. He should have felt afraid. Instead, his thoughts drifted to only one person.
Aziza.
He had promised he would be waiting for her. His stomach dropped. Without another thought, he hurried back toward the palace, praying he wasn't already too late.