Chapter 2

Half a month passed in the blink of an eye, and the gates of Windsor Palace finally reopened. James walked in, seeing me reading. He sat down beside me.

“Alex…”

I ignored him, he forcibly pulled me into his arms, taking the book from my hands.

“Look at me.”

“Alex, must we be like this? I’ve just ascended the throne, and my position is unstable. This is the time I need the support of the ministers the most. Can’t you endure a little longer for my sake?”

James’s voice was filled with frustration, and finally, even a hint of grievance.

I looked up at him, my gaze cold.

“James, I’ve been enduring ever since you were brought back from Sunningdale and titled King of Lennon.”

“I endured when you took those noblewomen as concubines. I endured when you took my newborn child and gave him to Zarah Bourbon to raise. I endured when you married your new wife with her illustrious background and demoted me to consort. What more do you want me to endure?”

My questions forced him to release me. The pain in my heart came in waves, and now, all I felt for him was deep disappointment.

For ten years, I was bound to him in marriage. In the early days, when our love was a blazing fire, we welcomed our daughter, Anne Windsor, into the world. But as the years passed and he ascended to the throne, the weight of his crown settled between us. In the midst of his newfound power and the establishment of his royal household, our son, Johnny Windsor, was born—a symbol of a love that had once been unbreakable, now strained under the demands of a kingdom.

Johnny was only three days old when Zarah suffered a miscarriage shortly after entering the King’s household. Her constant despair displeased her family, so without consulting me, James handed Johnny over to Zarah to raise.

My child, whom I had labored over in pain for a day and night, was taken from me while I lay weak and unconscious. Now, he only recognizes Zarah as his mother.

When he learned to speak, walk, and call for his mother, I was like a stranger, a mere observer of someone else’s happiness.

...

I couldn’t bear to think of those painful memories any longer. I pulled away from his embrace, moving far from him.

“James, let’s just set each other free. Perhaps then we could both find some happiness.”

His eyes reddened as he looked at me.

The tension was broken by a timid, childish voice, “Mother, I’m hungry…”

It was Anne, who had returned from playing outside. At six years old, she hid behind the curtains, peeking out with wide eyes at James and me, watching us argue.

I forced a smile, gently stroking her head. “The egg custard has been simmering in the small kitchen, just waiting for my little foodie. Why don’t you go wash your hands with Nanny first?”

She nodded enthusiastically, then hesitated, glancing between James’s stern face and mine. Finally, she tugged at my clothes, “Mother, Father hasn’t visited in a long time. Can you stop arguing, please?”

My heart sank, and James’s expression also stiffened.

When Anne was born, he wasn’t the King, nor was he the Duke of Lennon. I wasn’t just another consort in his vast harem; I was his only wife. That’s why Anne always called him Father.

James softened his expression and hugged Anne.

“Be good, Anne. When you grow up, don’t be like your mother—ignorant of what’s proper and ungrateful!”

After saying this, he gave me a glance before striding away.

“Mother, what did Father mean?” Anne asked, frightened by his harsh tone and shrinking into my arms.

“Nothing at all. Tell me, what did you and Nanny do in the Imperial Garden today? Tell me all about it.” I held her close, gently patting her back.

Hearing this, she was easily distracted.

“Mother, I met a new friend today. He’s amazing; he can fly…”