“Why?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his hand still covering mine against his cheek. I could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, and my heart ached for whatever he was about to tell me.
“The mother of my son...” he began, his voice rough with old pain. “She wasn’t happy when I told her our story was done the very same night it started. I was not searching for a mate, just having fun. I’d just turned eighteen.”
His jaw tightened, and I could see him forcing himself to continue. This was clearly a story he’d never told anyone for a long time.
“But she became obsessed with me. Started showing up at court functions uninvited, sending me letters, trying to corner me in hallways. My guards had to escort her out more than once.” He shook his head. “Two years later, she appeared at the ca
