xxiii.

SHE GASPED AT HIS WORDS, SHUTTING HER eyes tight as he pressed his forehead against hers, the warmth of their skins seeping into her soul as she felt her own fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

Isadora Tremaine's thumb caressed Zander's neck deftly, gently, and he didn't move-not wanting to break this trance they were both immersed in while the lavishly decorated cakes lay adorned on the dining hall table that started it's length six feet away from where they both stood. The first cake was a gorgeous three tiered display of lilac cream, etched with intricate decorations made in white cream. The contrast of white upon the soft lilac looked like a dream.

She turned back to look at another dream she must've dreamed at one point in her life, for it to become to real and human in front of her now. Zander dipped his head and clasped his warm lips on her jaw, and Isa gasped softly at the contact. Both his arms were wrapped tight around her waist, holding her body captive in the cage of his strong, muscled arms.

He breathed in deeply as her fingers brushed against the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Her thumb caressed Zander's neck gently, his skin warm under touch. Half of those fingers were on the hard collar of his suit, for it reached higher on his neck, and Isa suddenly felt the dismay of having that barrier-of not being able to touch more of this skin.

"If you decide on a cake, we can pick that," Isadora began softly, the butterflies in her stomach-no doubt borne of lilac and cream-were still sensitive upon Zander's earlier spoken words.

"We shouldn't waste time for my own approval too. Her majesty's seemingly stressed about her missing jewelry and-"

"Isadora," He spoke then, his tone hard as he freed an arm from her waist and brought his palm to hold her face.

His dark skin seemed to glow golden under the remnants of the sunlight twirling in the dining hall.

"We're not leaving this room until you like and choose a cake," Zander's eyes bore into hers. "If you find one you like, then that's well and good. If not, I will get the chef to ensure there will be another table with a dozen more cakes for you to choose from no matter how much time that takes him."

"Zander please," Isa shook her head, "Really, it's alright, I'm sure I'll like any cake you choose. I don't want to impose like this. Her majesty is too kind to arrange this but I-"

"Impose?" Zander scoffed harshly, as though she had uttered some obscenity.

His eyes turned hard in hers, a sudden fury touching his chocolate irises.

"Impose on what?" His brows furrowed.

Isadora's heart pounded in her chest.

"On your time," She started, her pleading eyes peering into his. "On your kindness and that of your mother's."

"Isa, you're going to be my wife," He blurted out, angry at her for reasons she couldn't understand.

"You're marrying me," Zander's hand in her face splayed a little as he brushed his thumb against her bottom lip.

"You're going to my Queen," His eyes fluttered back to her face from her lips. "You'll impose on every fucking thing, do you understand me? You'll impose on my time, anyone else's time, my kindness, everyone else's kindness-every fucking thing there is to impose on. You'll take up however much space you want to, and if anyone comes in your way, I'll cut them down. If anyone so much as hinders you, I'll gut them and string them up."

"Zander," Isadora breathed, shocked at his words as she brought both her hands to hold his face, her palms coming in contact with his cheeks.

He let go of her cheek and replaced his arm back around her waist, joining his other arm as he leaned his face into her hold, wanting to melt into her hands.

"Don't do this anymore, Isadora," Zander shook his head, his eyes softening in hers. "Don't hold yourself at a distance, don't hold yourself from the life you're going to live after we marry-don't hold yourself from me because it will fucking kill me if you do."

Isadora's throat choked up and she shook her head, her eyes misting up.

"I won't," She let out, "I promise I won't."

Zander exhaled, his eyes briefly shutting before they met her desperate, pleading ones. Then he dipped his head and slammed his lips against hers, catching her lips and swallowing her gasp.

He deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth and groaning deep in his throat when he found her own. Isa moved her hand higher up his neck and gripped his hair for support, her other hand also around his neck.

Their tongues danced together, Zander's claiming dominance over hers as he seemed to get lost in his passion for her-as though try as he might, he couldn't get enough of her.

He tasted of wine, and of thunderstorms. He smelled of musk and coarse flowers, he felt like she could live in his arms. She felt like if they were turned to stone at present, she'd be eternally content.

To breathe, Isa broke away from the kiss, dipping her head back to take in the sweet cake and cream scented air of the dining room. The act gave Zander leave to clamp his lips on her exposed neck, as his lips and teeth grazed her skin, his breaths hot and almost burning her skin.

"Zander," She breathed, biting her lips to stifle a moan.

"My name in your voice, Isa," Zander groaned, shaking his head as his hair brushed underneath her chin. "I'll need you to say it to me every second of every fucking day."

A heat washed over her then, and Zander stopped sucking on the nape of her neck, bringing her face to meet his.

His eyes were half lidded, heavy with his lust for her. Brushing his lips against hers, he kissed her again-more desperately than he had before, but this time, he broke away quickly and buried his face in her chest, kissing and sucking on the top exposed skin of her breasts, peeking slightly out from the bust of the gown she wore.

Isadora moaned audibly, her restraint breaking as she gripped his hair tighter, throwing her head back.

"I want you madly, Isa," Zander let out, speaking the words against the skin of her chest. "You need to step away from me because I'm only seconds away from taking you out of this dress and kissing every inch of you."

Forcefully, he brought his face up again, his hair now entirely messy from Isa's fingers and his eyes sharp yet hazy from his lust.

"It will scare you, to know the extent of just everything I want to do to you-the ways I want to make love to you," He began, his irises bearing into hers.

Isadora leaned in then, softly placing a kiss on his cheek bone as Zander sucked in a breath.

"Wait for me, Zander," She breathed against his skin.

"Yes," He nodded, "I plan to. Until we marry-until you're my rightful wife and my kingdom's Queen, because I respect you too fucking much to make love to you anywhere else but in our marriage bed first."

Her brows furrowed as her eyes misted, and she leaned against him, pressing the side of her forehead onto his.

"That is the difference between me and the men who ever looked at you and thought of you, Isa. You were made for me, I know that now like I haven't known anything else. You are mine and mine alone. I get to have you body and soul, and they don't."

He kissed her jaw, and she dipped her head slightly back.

"So why the fuck wouldn't I wait?" He asked against her skin. "Why, when I've got the rest of my life with you to live?"

Isadora wrapped her arms fully around his neck, not wanting to let go.

"You're my every dream come true, Zander."

Zander buried his face in her neck as he embraced her tight, not wanting to let go as well.

"And you're mine, and I don't know what I did to deserve you."

They stood like that for a few minutes, with Zander inhaling Isa's scent deeply, and her with her cheek pressed against his soft, messy, dark hair in midst of their embrace as she kept her eyes closed as though she was trying to convince herself that he was real, and would always be real.

"Zander," Isadora whispered then as she separated a little from the embrace, remembering something, "The cakes."

He let out a slight groan, but with effort, met her eyes and nodded, freeing her from his hold. He glanced at the dining hall table and looked suddenly miserable at the thought of the cake tasting now-as though one might look upon a chore, and Isa giggled at the look on his face.

Zander grinned at her then, a sudden challenge on his face as he met her eyes.

"As I said before, it is on your choice alone that a cake is to be selected for tonight, Isadora. You still have plenty of time, and I will be here filling my eyes with your beauty while I wait for you to come to a decision."

With that being said, the King of Angria swiftly turned and started walking into the direction of a giant luxurious green velvet settee that was placed in the far distance against a wall of the dining hall, overlooking the dining table display right in front. The lush green sofa settee matched the lush green carpet of the dining hall, and Isa was shocked that she hadn't noticed that particular piece of furniture until this moment.

"Are you not going to help me?" She managed, slightly out of breath at the thought of tasting all these cakes and deciding alone.

Zander had seated himself on the sofa settee now, and with one arm resting lengthwise on the back of the sofa, his back resting, relaxed, against the sofa, his knees wide apart and his eyes fixed on her with shocking lust that made Isadora's skin flush with heat, he grinned at her from the distance.

"I will only taste the cake you decide upon," The King of Angria let out, eased in his stature as he watched her like she was the only art piece in the room that mattered, despite the array of gorgeous cakes displayed behind her form on the table.

His voice echoed in the dining hall as he raised it only slightly to converse with her, and his deep baritone hitting the walls made chills of pleasure run down Isa's spine.

"I will only ever agree with what you decide upon from now onwards, Isadora, nothing fucking matters to me more than your contentment and approval. I need you to understand that."

Her heart fluttered in her chest, and despite the hectic task in front of her, she relaxed and smiled, taking on the charge he wanted her to take, maintaining his gaze from this distance.

Then, feeling her body light itself up with pleasure under the admiring gaze of her husband-to-be, she spun on her heels and approached the first cake-the lilac and white cream epiphany-and started to scrutinize it, before reaching for the sample for tasting.

Time traversed gently then, as Isa, immersed in her world now composed of tasting and sampling a dozen gorgeously made cakes, took her time with the task.

It was easier than she had anticipated, for she made the mind to taste the cakes whose looks she approved of. She found herself skipping cakes with green icing, for instance, or dark blue icings. Her stomach didn't want her to sample a rather bold looking cake too, which the chef had made into what looked like a dark gothic castle with three tiers-grey icing lathered all over and the image defined by more dark coloured icings.

For sure, some of these skipped cakes would've tasted so good had she tried their samples, but Isa didn't want their designs for the engagement ball. It was nicer to choose a design and taste she liked, than to ask the chef to remodel an entire cake just because she liked the taste but not the look of the dessert.

She took but a small bite of each sample she tried-a mere tea spoon, and washed it down-when she felt like it-with a little sips of water in the crystals accompanying each sample. There were also crystals full of a little wine each, in case she preferred that to wash down the cakes with.

Zander though, had summoned a footman with a fresh bottle of wine for himself, since he was not the one doing the tasting. The footman stood on standby near the sofa settee, holding the bottle of wine while The King of Angria sipped his glass slowly, his eyes keenly fixated on his wife-to-be as she glided confidently past the table immersed in her inspections, her glorious form so enticing, that Zander found himself debating the fact that he was not indeed trapped in a sick delusion.

He could watch her forever. Regardless of whatever the hell she was doing, he would watch her do anything she wanted, and he could do it forever. His eyes were meant to worship only her, and they would never tire.

Suddenly, Isadora gasped, her body blocking out the source of her shock-a cake she had settled upon-from Zander's gaze.

"Zander," She spun around then, loosely curled bits of her hair that framed her face, swaying gently as she looked at him with bright ebony eyes and an excited breath escaping her lips.

"Taste this one please."

Zander handed his half empty glass to the footman and got up, a gleaming grin on his dark face as he made his way towards Isadora.

She beamed at him, intertwining her hands at the base of the stomach as Zander glanced at the cake she had singled out.

One of the four tiered cakes-six of which were present on the table-this one was a pure white creamed, tall cake with intricately stunning detailing made on each tier with dark black frosting. The chef had switched between thick tips and thinner tips to make the designs with black, the end result looking like brocade with georgian sensibilities. The cake looked divine in it's presentation, and strangely without even trying it or having noticed it before, Zander was shook as to how he was suddenly aware that this was the cake for their engagement ball. He was shook at how it just.. fit.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Isadora prompted, as she waited for him to finish his observation.

"It tastes so perfect too, Zander," She beamed as he glanced back at her, having approached her side and stopping.

"It has pine apple, a distinctly balanced taste of vanilla and chocolate. It isn't too sugary at all, it's all balanced and very light and-," She broke off, grabbing the silver spoon she had used and gathering a spoonful of the sample.

She placed her other hand underneath the spoonful, cupping it, in order to avoid crumbs falling on the carpet, and raised the spoon towards Zander, watching him with eager eyes.

"Try it," She nudged, bringing the spoon towards his mouth as he opened his lips and took the spoonful.

Isa waited for his judgement, afraid that he wouldn't like it. Did he like pine apple at all? Did he like chocolate, or vanilla? What kind of desserts did he even prefer, Mon Dieu, she was suddenly terrified that she'd like something that he wouldn't like-that there perhaps may be little that they'd both agree on. She felt her heart clench at the thought. She wanted to know everything there was to know about him, so that she could be the attentive wife to him that she knew she could be. She didn't want there to be a moment like this again, where she felt as though she didn't know him at all.

Zander swallowed, and then looked at Isa, a thoughtful look on his face as his eyes pierced in hers. She searched for approval on his face.

"What do you think?" She asked when she didn't find it, "Should I keep looking?"

Zander shook his head, as though she'd said what he hadn't wanted her to say. He reached for her, his fingers encasing on her elbow as he pulled her to him, letting go of her elbow instantly to grip the back of her waist, his other arm pinned behind his own back.

"What do you think?" He asked her, meeting her eyes firmly, and Isa knew he had only given a single and brief thought to the cake-a thought long abandoned.

"I love it," She spoke, her eyes glinting in his.

His features relaxed, and a slow grin took hold of his lips.

"Do you want this to be the cake for our engagement ball?" The question was soft and firm on his tone, and his eyes didn't leave hers.

"Yes," Isa nodded, letting her excitement take hold of her, and she let out a small laugh. "Yes."

Zander nodded, still grinning as he snapped his fingers in the direction where the footman stood.

"Tell the chef we've made the decision, tell him to have this one ready."

"Yes, your majesty," The footman bowed and pivoted, taking his leave from the dining hall.

Zander's eyes found Isadora's again as he dipped his head slightly to near hers.

"I can't fucking wait for tonight," He whispered heavily, pressing his warm lips on hers as she held the back of his head, her heart thudding in her chest as she kissed him back.

-🥀-

"You look enchanting, mademoiselle," A palace seamstress, one of the five presently working on her, mused in a dreamy voice, catching Isadora by surprise.

For at present, dressed in the utterly beautiful engagement gown-a cacophony of pure white with delicate lace at the bust and gentle, glittering tulle covering the skirts and trailing on the ground-Isa hadn't imagined that any of these royal seamstresses assigned by the Queen mother, would speak to her at all.

They had all whisked into the new chambers Isa had been moved into, once the clock had struck 6:30pm, and quickly and carefully dressed her in her engagement gown. Now it was much past that initial time, and the seamstresses, silently making last minute adjustments and working to make sure every detail of the dress was perfect, hadn't yet spoken a single word to her.

She looked at the lady who had spoken, an elder lady who seemed to be of or around Lady Tremaine's own age. Isa met the woman's eyes and smiled in silent gratitude.

"Truly, my lady," Lucy, Isadora's own maid spoke-the presence of whom had become a tender solace to Isa's own heart ever since she had hired the girl off a street in Toulouse the weekend of Cinderella and Prince Charming's wedding.

"You have always been enchanting, but today you are truly glowing."

Isa's smile deepened in a way that sometimes one loses the strength to maintain a smile, and then picks it back up again, and somehow it's heavier to smile the next time-it's more meaningful to, it's more precious to. Isadora wondered then what exactly had made Lucy form this opinion. Had not the girl seen the constant ugly arguments between Lady Tremaine and Isa? Had not she seen Isa's distaste for her family evident in words and scrunched up looks? Had not she seen Isa's detachment from the rest of the world but Archie?

If it was Isadora in Lucy's place, she'd not think of herself as anything even remotely close to enchanting.

Lucy worked on Isa's hair, using a heated tong to loosely curl dark hair and pin each curl on the crown of her head while leaving others down in the front and in the back. An elegant and bejewelled hair piece sat on a small glass table next to where they stood on the circular stage over which her dress was spread out and was being worked on.

The sky was darkening outside, and nerves were twisting and piling inside Isa's chest. Tonight would let the entire Kingdom of Angria-and every other kingdom a friend of Angria's- know that Isa was to be the kingdom's new Queen. She knew there was so much that was going to be said to her, and not all of it might be positive. She knew people had opinions that could never agree with her own, she had had much experience in navigating all that. But this time, it would be on a wider scale. This time she wouldn't be dealing with Toulouse villagers, store owners, neighbors or her mother's remotely noble associations. Still, she would have Zander on her side. She would have The King of Angria on her side, and that was all that mattered.

Thinking of Zander, Isadora glanced at her form in the tall looking glass attached perpendicular to the circular stage she was standing on. The seamstresses had all dragged the entire contraption inside the chambers with the help of some footmen. It was similar to the Queen mother's dressing disc, a platform where multiple royal women before Isa would've stood on and be dressed and fitted as they waited for some event or the other with nerves fluttering underneath their skin. It had steps of stairs attached to the side, where a seamstress was now sitting, working on the trailing hem of Isa's engagement gown.

Her husband-to-be hadn't yet seen the gown, or her in it, too. Mon Dieu, even Isa herself hadn't seen the gown up until yesterday. The Queen mother had immediately had it go under construction on the night of the engagement. The form of the dress had been made up when Queen Ariana had asked Isadora to interfere and decide the further changes to the gown upon her own preferences. The practice had been strange, but it had saved Isa so much struggle. If the Queen mother hadn't aided, Isa wouldn't have known where to start with commissioning a royal engagement gown. Apparently, there was a certain shade of white-a pure cream white with just a hint of an off white effect-that the royals of Angria incorporated into wedding gowns the like. Isa wouldn't have known that information, and now as she admired the white of her gown in the looking glass, she could understand how distinctly profound it looked. Instead of a blatant white, this shade was softer, gentler and so much more elegant.

"Lucy, you need to dress Archie," Isa spoke then, bringing herself out of her reverie as she met her maid's eyes in the looking glass.

"Yes, my lady," Lucy nodded, "I will fetch him and begin dressing him in precisely fifteen minutes."

It wouldn't do to get Archie in his smart formal clothing a while before the ball was to start, the act was to be done as close to the starting time as possible, so that there would be no sneaking off to anywhere else before the event and dirtying the attire.

Queen Ariana had picked Archie's suit with much dedication, having made sure the fit was perfect for him.

"He is at the stables?" Isadora asked then.

"Yes, my lady," Lucy concentrated on Isa's hair, "He was with Queen Ariana, then I believe his majesty took him to the stables."

"Zander will need to dress as well, Lucy," Isadora touched a curl, brushing it slightly away from her eye with a finger. "Archie must be keeping him."

"Alright, my lady," The maid nodded, her eyes running over Isa's hair with satisfaction as she finished making the adjustments to it. "I will go right away and-"

"Mama! Mama!" Archie's voice was heard in the hallway outside as the boy burst into the chambers, his curly hair disheveled and sky blue eyes sparkling as a sheen of sweat shone on his fair forehead.

Having burst into the chambers, his gaze found that of the many seamstresses draped all around his mother's gown, as they all turned to look at him in mid surprise.

Archie's excitement-pertaining to something he had possibly wanted to inform his mama of-dulled as embarrassment took over his bright feathers. His lips parted to acknowledge, but no sound came out, but it was when his eyes found Isa's own that she saw the embarrassment on his face fade away in shock and surprise.

"Wow," He breathed then, his small voice barely above a shocked whisper as he looked at his mama.

Isadora smiled at him, gesturing with her hand for him to come to her since she couldn't be moving herself at present.

Unsteadily, panting from having run all the way to the chambers, Archie trotted over slowly to Isa's form, swinging his leg onto the circular stage and climbing up to her side, being careful to not disrupt the work of the other women. Making sure he was not bothering any of the strangers, he found himself at liberty to concentrate on his mother then, as he slowly reached out his hand and cluelessly touched the material of the dress at Isa's front when she didn't offer him her own hand, for she was being made to hold her arms away as her sleeves too were being worked on.

"So pretty, mama," Archie spoke, his bright blue eyes, awestruck at her.

Isadora beamed at him, wanting nothing more than to take him in her arms and kiss his forehead.

"Merci, my love," She spoke instead, frowning softly, "And how did you spend the afternoon without mama?"

"I was in the stables!" The boy exclaimed, recognition flashing in his eyes as he thought back to what he was doing. "Zander and I rode Augustus, mama, and I also sat on the black horse I told you about, but Zander says I can't ride Brutus yet."

"He wants me to ride little horses, mama, but I want to ride big ones! Like Augustus and Brutus!"

"And why don't you want the little ones?" Isa narrowed her eyes slightly at him. "Why don't you like them?"

Archie paused for a moment, "Because they are little and not high like the big ones."

"And is it their fault that they are tiny? They are still horses, are they not?"

"Yes, mama, but..," Archie trailed off, his eyes dropped to his feet as he kicked air slightly.

"Mon Dieu, how bad those little horses would feel," Isadora shook her head with a mock sigh as Archie looked up to meet her eyes. "To know that someone doesn't like them just because they are little."

"No, mama, I like them. I really do!" Archie let out desperately.

"Then why not give them a chance?" Isa smiled at him and earned a sheepish but convinced grin in return from her boy.

"Alright, I will, mama. I promise," He turned to hop off the circular stage, but just then, every seamstress working on Isa disengaged herself from the gown with a satisfied sigh each, and Archie halted in his spot, nudging himself closer to Isa, unsure at what was happening.

"It is done, mademoiselle," The woman who had complimented Isadora before, announced with satisfaction. "All final adjustments have been made."

"Merci beaucoup," Isa offered, before the women gathered their materials and excused themselves in a queue from the chambers, leaving Isa, Lucy and Archie in newfound silence.

"Goodness, that took a while," Isadora exhaled, before turning to admire the back of the gown in the looking glass as Lucy murmured an affirmation and scurried off to fetch Archie's formal suit for the day.

"Mama, the guests for the party have started coming," Archie announced then, walking up to Isa's side in the looking glass as he glanced at his own reflection beside Isa's.

"I saw so many new horses! Zander said they will all stay in the stables in the meanwhile."

Isadora looked at him, slowly bending down to ruffle his hair and place a kiss at his forehead.

"It's time for you to dress, darling."

"Mama," Archie spoke after a pause as Isadora straightened to her full height and Lucy returned with Archie's suit and started separating and singling out the undershirt.

"I met someone called papa."

Isa paused, blinking as she looked away from the looking glass to meet her son's eyes. She didn't have to express her inquiry for Archie to continue, because he continued.

"He's also a guest, mama, he came for the ball on a horse too!"

"Archie," Isa spoke his name, putting weight on it as her stomach turned inside her. "Darling, we don't talk to strangers. I made you promise me this."

Archie blinked. "I didn't talk to him mama. I was coming back from the stables, I just saw him coming in."

Lucy stopped at a distance, hesitating to approach with the undershirt in her hand as her eyes briefly met Isadora's tense ones in the looking glass.

"Alright," Isa forced level into her tone, mustering a smile on her face as she bent down towards her son, running her hands over his hair and holding his face gently.

"What did this man say to you?"

"He said he saw me in the stables with Zander, he said I have hair just like him and a smile just like him. He said to call him papa."

Bile rose to Isadora's throat as she choked it back down. What sort of a man would say a thing like this to an orphan child? Though Archie was no longer an orphan, still, it grated her to know that someone had said such things to him. To any other child, this would've seemed like a jest since they'd already have a papa, but to Archie? What sort of jest was this?

"Tell me you didn't stay darling," Isa managed, caressing Archie's cheek with her thumb. "Tell me you excused yourself and came straight back."

"I did mama," Archie nodded then. "But the man kept speaking. He laughed behind my back and shouted that he knew Ruby."

Isa gasped then, her heart constricting painfully in her chest as her eyes misted.

"Who's Ruby, mama?"

Isadora's hands shook against Archie's face as she heard the name of his biological mother pass his lips as though he spoke of a stranger. And he did, he did speak of a stranger. For what familiarity had Ruby Alderidge offered her son? He didn't even know her name, only remembered remnants of her face, and had seemingly forgotten all that his life had been before Isadora had adopted him. Isa was glad for all that, she was glad for it and didn't care how wrong it was. She had replaced Ruby Alderidge, and become Archie's mother, and that was how she wanted it to remain.

Isadora reached forwards and embraced her son, holding his form against her frame as she felt his heart beating against hers. She ran her hands on his back, placing frantic, desperate, kisses in his messy curly hair.

"She's no one, my darling," Isa managed, her voice breaking as she met Lucy's fearful eyes in the looking glass. "She's no one."

Who was this man who claimed to know Ruby? Could he truly be Archie's biological father? Could he be the man who had left Ruby to rot and fight for her survival after he had gotten her pregnant? Mon Dieu, could he be the one who had murdered Ruby?

It was then that Isadora hated Ruby for not telling her anything about the man-about Archie's father. If she had, Isa wouldn't have been blindsided like this, Archie wouldn't have had an encounter like this because she'd have avoided it somehow.

But what was this man doing here? At Isadora's engagement ball? There were no commoners invited to this ball, this wasn't Prince Charming's ball being held in Valence, this was The King of Angria's engagement ball. Was this man of Angrian nobility? But then, what was he doing in Toulouse? How did he know Ruby when the girl hadn't ever ventured outside of Toulouse in her short life?

Isa shut her eyes tight, feeling tears sting her eyelids viciously. Archie was hers, he was hers and hers alone. How dare that man suggest something otherwise? How dare he? Isadora held her old beliefs to her heart. Ruby Alderidge was murdered and gone, and Archie's biological father was just a drunkard off the street who had made empty promises to a naïve Ruby, a man who was probably too drunk and vision impaired to even comprehend Ruby's face while he had raped her, let alone recognize his child of fours years.

Her heart stuttered in her chest then. Mon Dieu, Zander was not aware of any details regarding Archie's history. He didn't know Ruby Alderidge, and he didn't know the depravity of the woman's tale and how she was taken advantage of. What if this man, surely of the nobility, expressed something in front of Zander or Queen Ariana?

This man was a dupe, for how could Ruby have fallen in with a noble and hidden it? How could a nobleman abandon her so? Deep in Isa's heart, she knew it made sense, but she refused to believe it. If Ruby had fallen in with a nobleman, she would've bragged about it to Isa-being delusional and reckless girls as they were four years ago. She would've said.. something.

What would Zander think if he knew everything? What would Queen Ariana think? Mon Dieu, it would take seconds for Archie and herself to fall from grace, and she would willingly shatter completely if only meant that she could save her son.

"I love you, Archie," She murmured in her son's hair as he tried to embrace her back, crushed as he was in a sudden hug. "I love you so much, and nothing will change that, I promise you."

***

A/N:
i hope you're all having a wonderful week<3 thankyou for voting on this story!!