The Royal Academy

Chapter 24

The next morning felt surreal, waking up in Conrad’s chambers for the first time, feeling the warmth of his presence beside me. I stretched slowly, careful not to disturb him, but as I turned my head, I saw his eyes were already open, watching me with a quiet intensity.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice low and soft, as though we were the only two people in the world.

"Good morning," I replied, a smile tugging at my lips. The warmth of the past few days, the tenderness between us, had created a fragile cocoon of peace. But as we both knew, life outside these walls was waiting for us, with all its challenges.

Conrad sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes before glancing at me. "We should go down to breakfast soon. But I thought we could visit the gardens afterward, just the two of us. I want to spend as much time with you as I can before... everything else starts again."

His words were laden with unspoken responsibilities, the heavy weight of his duties that were never far from his mind. I nodded, grateful for the time we had carved out for ourselves, but there was a part of me that couldn’t shake the lingering fear—what would happen when his attention returned fully to the crown, and I was once again left behind in the shadows?

After a quiet breakfast, we strolled through the palace gardens. The cool morning air carried the scent of blooming flowers, and I felt a sense of peace as we walked hand in hand, away from the scrutiny of the court and the duties of the throne. Conrad seemed lighter too, as though the weight of his responsibilities was momentarily lifted.

"You know," Conrad said after a long silence, "I never thought I’d enjoy moments like these. I was always so focused on duty, on the future, that I forgot to live in the present."

I glanced up at him, his face relaxed in the soft sunlight. "And now?"

"Now," he said, squeezing my hand, "I realize how much I was missing. I don’t want to lose this... or you."

My heart swelled with hope at his words, but I couldn’t ignore the gnawing sense of uncertainty that had lodged itself deep inside me. We had shared moments of closeness, yes, but there was still so much unresolved between us—so many expectations, unspoken fears, and the looming pressure of an heir that hung over us like a storm cloud.

We reached a secluded corner of the garden, where a stone bench sat beneath a canopy of roses. Conrad gestured for me to sit, and we sank down together, the air heavy with the scent of flowers and earth.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Conrad began, his tone shifting. He turned toward me, his expression serious. "There’s a council meeting tomorrow, and I’ll have to attend. It could last several days."

The fragile peace I had been holding onto started to slip through my fingers. "Several days?" I echoed, trying to keep the disappointment from creeping into my voice.

"I’m sorry," he said, his brow furrowing. "I know it’s terrible timing. Especially now... with the baby and everything. But it’s necessary."

I forced a smile, though my heart sank. "Of course. You have responsibilities. I understand."

Conrad studied my face for a moment, as if trying to gauge my true feelings. "I’ll be back as soon as I can. And I’ll send for you if I can manage it. I don’t want us to fall back into the way things were."

I appreciated his words, but I couldn’t help the flicker of doubt that surfaced. Would it always be like this? Days or weeks apart, with only brief moments of connection in between? I didn’t voice my fears, not wanting to dampen the mood, but they gnawed at me nonetheless.

We spent the rest of the morning together, but the looming separation hung over us like a shadow. By the time we returned to the palace, Conrad had grown quiet again, his mind already shifting toward the matters of the kingdom.

The following day, Conrad left for the council meeting at dawn. I hadn’t even stirred from bed when he kissed me softly on the forehead, whispering a goodbye before slipping away. When I awoke to find the other side of the bed cold and empty, the familiar feeling of loneliness returned with full force.

Days passed, and true to his word, Conrad sent letters whenever he could. They were brief, little more than updates on the council’s progress and assurances that he missed me, but I cherished them nonetheless. They were a small lifeline, tethering me to him, even from a distance.

But as the days stretched into a week, the isolation crept back in. I found myself wandering the palace halls, feeling more like a guest in my own life than a queen-to-be. Without Conrad, everything felt hollow. The excitement of our shared moments faded, and I was left with the stark reality of palace life—distant and cold.

As I sat by the fire in our chambers, Anna entered with a tray of tea. She placed it on the table beside me and hesitated before speaking. "Your Highness, is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? You’ve been quiet these past few days."

I looked up at her, grateful for her concern, but I shook my head. "No, Anna. I’m fine. Just... thinking."

Anna lingered for a moment longer, her expression sympathetic. "If I may, Your Highness... perhaps writing to His Majesty might lift your spirits? I’m sure he would appreciate a letter from you as well."

I smiled weakly, appreciating the sentiment, but the idea of writing to Conrad felt futile. What would I say? That I missed him? That I felt lost without him? It all seemed so... trivial in the grand scheme of things.

"I’ll think about it," I said, though I knew I wouldn’t.

As the fire crackled softly beside me, I found myself staring into the flames, wondering what the future held for us. Could we truly build a life together, or would we always be two people bound by duty, pulled apart by the demands of the crown?

And then, as if on cue, I felt a small, fluttering reminder of the new life growing inside me, the life that bound me and Conrad together more than anything else.

Perhaps that was the answer. Perhaps, through the child, we could find our way to each other, not just as king and queen, but as husband and wife.

For now, I would have to wait. But I held onto that hope, clinging to it like a lifeline in the vast sea of uncertainty.