But the idyllic picture with the woman he loved, body and soul, wasn’t enough. He was choosing his crown over his heart. That was what he’d always done and what he would do now. Though he’d considered his options, weighing each side with careful scrutiny, he’d always known on which side he’d fall.

Rion crossed the room and dropped to a knee, sliding his hands up Rachel’s thighs, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress.

“Don’t be angry with me,” he said, and she turned to look at him with a sharp gaze. What he saw in her eyes was a turbulent mix of so many things, most of which he could guess.

“I had to fall in love with a future king,” she said softly, almost wistfully, already speaking of him in the past.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You know that I can’t control who the Torch chooses.”

She shook her head. The problem was that she didn’t understand this need to rule and wear that crown. She hadn’t been born into the weight and expectations of royalty. “I know that, Rion. But you are making this choice. You are choosing yourself over me.”

The words hurt, as they were meant to, but not enough to alter his course. Walking away from that crown would ultimately hurt more. He knew himself well enough to understand that. It was true. He was choosing himself.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he replied, and she closed her eyes as she inhaled a deep breath. He considered asking if she’d be interested in one last kiss for old times’ sake, but he had a hunch he knew the answer.

A knock came at the door, followed by a muffled “Your Highness, they’re ready for you.”

Their time was at an end, anyway. They both looked over and then back at each other.

“I guess this is it then,” he said.

“I guess,” she replied.

“What will you do?”

“Before it’s over, I will be gone.”

“Where?” He couldn’t help wondering.

“You would ask me that?” she demanded with an arch of her brow.

“You’ll be provided for,” he said. “You have an open line of credit for whatever you need. Just write to my accountants.”

She nodded. “Yes, Rion. You’re buying me off. I understand perfectly.”

“Rachel . . .”

“Don’t,” she said, lifting a hand. “I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses. Bond to that woman. Take your fucking crown. I hope it keeps you warm.”

The firm set of her jaw told him she was done with this conversation. She’d always been very stubborn.