Chapter 455

The Threat of War Ella We’re able to see the true fallout of Xander’s death as the next few days pass,

which are…more stressful than I’d like them to be. Cora, luckily, stays at my side through most of it,

knowing that I need her support.

“Well,” she says, lounging in bed with me and flicking through her phone ” you’ll be happy to know that

incidents of people calling you a hero outweigh those calling you a murderer three to one by this point!”

I sigh and throw a pretzel at my sister, giving her a little glare that she returns with a grin. Both of us are

lounging around in pajamas because Sinclair has asked me not to leave our suite until things calm

down a bit. Rafe lays peacefully in the blankets between us, gurgling and grabbing at his toes.

“Don’t tease me,” I murmur. “You know I hate this.” “You need to get over it, Ells,” Cora murmurs,

returning her attention to her phone. “You care way too much about what people think about you. You

did what you did for everyone’s good. People just love to have someone to dogpile on. And like I said,

there are way more people on your side than those who are against you, so I think it’s all turning out

nicely.” “Easy for you to say,” I sigh. “You’re the martyred duchess whose wedding I ruined.” “I know,”

she says, flashing me a wicked grin. “No one’s saying anything bad about me, the poor innocent

duchess!” I growl a little and toss another pretzel at her, satisfied when this one bounces off of her

head.

Both of us turn towards the door when it opens though, and twin smiles light our faces when both

Sinclair and Roger come in.

“Hey!” Cora calls, sitting up and waving to her mate. “Welcome to the slumber party!” “I’m jealous,”

Roger says as he and Sinclair cross to us. Roger easily slides onto the bed next to Cora, wrapping an

arm around her shoulder. “You three look so comfortable. And cozy.” “Yeah well,” I mutter, leaning

against Sinclair as he settles on the bed behind me and drops a kiss to my cheek before leaning

forward to tickle Rafe’s belly. The baby giggles eagerly, which makes me smile, just a little. “You

wouldn’t be so happy about it, Roger, if you were forced to be cozy because you’re on house arrest. Or

suite arrest. Or whatever.” “Well, Ella,” Roger says, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes, a wicked

grin starting on his mouth. “I mean, you could always, you know, leap out the window if you’re feeling

too contained Cora bursts into laugher as I throw a pretzel at Roger now, hard. But he just snatches it

out of the air and pops it into his mouth, grinning at me.

“Settle, settle,” Sinclair says with a sigh, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me close

against him. He rubs his cheek warmly against my head and passes a great deal of warmth and love

down the bond, knowing that I need it. It hasn’t been easy on me, these past few days. Even if Tempest

article did a great deal of work to shine the truth on the situation?

Well, I know that it’s rather an understatement that I’ve been living up to my nickname.

“Ready for your update, trouble?” Sinclair asks, planting a kiss on my cheek. “Or do we need to bring

you more snacks first, so you have something to temper the anxiety?” “Just tell me,” I sigh, popping

another pretzel in my mouth. I have indeed been snacking a lot these past few days. Anxious eating

has never really been my thing but…well, I’ve never been the focus of international attention before,

have I?

“All right. The justice systems have decided not to press charges against you, calling you a political

agent and a technical extension of the military. Since Xander was a war criminal and was actively

committing a violent crime that would have resulted in an order to use lethal force to stop him, your

actions have been marked as an extension of that order.” “Wow,” Cora says, her eyebrows going up.

“How the hell did you manage that?” “It took some doing,” Roger says, ” dad was behind a lot of it. But,

as a result, the role of Queen has been officially marked as a military and political figure in this nation,

which is… pretty cool.” “I got lucky,” I mutter, looking down at the blankets and sighing, feeling guilty.

“You didn’t,” Sinclair says, giving me a nudge. I look up at him, meeting his frown with my own. “It’s

right, Ella. The Queen should have political and military power in the nation if the King does, and no

one who truly understands this situation believes that you did anything wrong. All right? So stop

blaming yourself.” I shake my head at him, giving another sigh. “You’re not telling me everything,” I say,

knowing that I’m right.

And Sinclair grimaces, which just makes me groan and lay down on the bed next to my baby. I close

my eyes and breathe in Rafe’s sweet baby scent as he reaches out a pudgy little hand and grasps at

my cheek, making me smile just a little bit. “Go on,” I say, my eyes still closed. “Let’s have the whole

story.” I hear Sinclair sigh again before he begins. “The Atalaxians, as we guessed are…displeased.”

“Understatement,” Roger adds, his voice dry.

“They’re…using this so-called offense as a rationale to go to war.” “What?” I hear Cora breathe,

shocked, and my own eyes fly open. “Does this mean,” my sister asks, hesitating, ” that…that we’re at

war?” “Not yet,” Sinclair says, his voice serious. “They haven’t declared war. They’re just saying that

this is an offense worthy of it. It’s…a bullshit move, and everyone knows it – Xander is barely their

citizen. But they’re taking advantage of it, trying to back us into a corner so that we give them whatever

they want in exchange for not going to war.” My lips draw into a thin line as I stare at my little baby, my

sweet Rafe, wondering what his future holds.

War.

War is the last thing I want for our world right now, for Rafe’s future.

And yet, somehow, I’m at the heart of it.

I rack my brain, wondering if there was anything I could have done to stop it… “Don’t,” Sinclair

murmurs, reaching out a warm hand that settles on my hip. I look up at him as he shakes his head. ”

It’s not your fault Ella. It would have happened no matter what.” “Do you think that’s true?” I ask,

holding my mate’s gaze. “I mean, Prince Calvin confirmed as much, the night of the wedding. That the

Atalaxians encouraged Xander that night so he would overstep. Was this a setup from the start?” “Is

that what that Prince said?” Cora asks, fascinated.

I turn a little so I can see her and I nod, confirming it.

“That’s so…odd…” Cora says, her voice wondering.

“Why?” Sinclair asks, and I sit up, because I want to be able to easily look between them now.

“Because,” Cora says, her mind clearly working through it. “If that was their plan all along, to force your

hand, then why on earth would Calvin tell you it? It gives you all the power to point it out – to pass the

blame back to them.” “Well, we don’t have any proof,” I say, giving a little shrug. “It was just…a

personal conversation. Nothing written, nothing recorded.” “Still,” she says, looking at Sinclair now with

a little frown. “It is…odd. Either there’s something else going on here? Where like, the Atalaxians want

you to think that they set you up? Or, more simply…” She cocks her head to the side, confused.

Sinclair finishes for her. “…that the Prince is up to something else,” he murmurs, his voice quiet,

considering.

“Who is this guy?” Roger asks, leaning forward, curious.

And bizarrely, almost as if in answer to the question, a knock comes at the door.

Sinclair calls for whoever it is to come in, and an aid peeks through the door with an odd look on her

face.

“A note,” she says, holding out a little envelope. “For the Queen.” Sinclair stands and moves over to the

aid, taking the note from her hands. ” Who is it from?” he asks, turning the paper over in his hands.

“From…Prince Calvin of Atalaxia,” the woman says.

We all go a bit still at that moment. Then Sinclair thanks the aid, dismissing her, and slowly crosses the

room to hold the envelope out to me.

“Well, Ella?” he says as I take it.” What does your Prince have to say for himself now?”