Olivia

She groaned in pleasure as Anton finished and the collapsed against her. She giggled as he rolled over and exhaled and looked at her.

“Gods, that was wonderful,” he said. She smiled and rolled onto her stomach and kissed him.

“It really was,” she said and stood up.

“Are you going somewhere?” He said. She looked over her shoulder at him, and went to the table and poured a glass of wine. “Get me one too.” She smirked and poured another and walked back to bed and handed it to him. “You should move in here.”

“My father would love that,” she said and kissed him. “He’s already taken to grumbling about this whole situation whenever it comes up.” Anton smirked.

“Does it come up often?” He asked. “Or just when he does ridiculous things like try to marry you off to Caleb Pantona?” She laughed.

“Caleb isn’t so bad,” she shook her head, Anton kissed the spot between her shoulder and neck. “Tom wrote me,” Anton pulled back.

“Did he?” He said. She nodded. “And what did he have to say?” She looked at him.

“He was promoted,” she said. Anton nodded.

“Livvie, not to denigrate what I’m sure was a fantastic letter, but you do realize that I am the Crown Prince, and I was present, when the decision to promote Tom was made?” He teased. “He’ll be a fantastic Commander, probably general someday.”

“It means more money,” she said, he nodded, “And a house on palace grounds. So he’s asked me to marry him,” Anton rolled onto his side and looked at her, “I’m saying yes.”

“Alright,” Anton said. “May I ask why?” She frowned.

“I love him,” Olivia said. He smirked. “People do fall in love, Anton. Tom and I have.”

“Maybe I’m in love with you,” he said. She barked a laugh. “It’s not a ridiculous notion. You’ve been my mistress for a year.”

“It is a ridiculous notion,” she said, “you’re asking me now because you’re jealous, not because you want to, you’ve had a year to ask.” He looked at her. “I have to marry, Anton,” he pushed her hair off her face. “This has been fun, really, but,” he kissed her.

“You sound like my mother,” he whispered, “you’re having your fun, but you must get serious at some point, Anton,” she looked up at him. “I don’t see why you marrying Tom means we have to end things.” She pushed him off.

“You don’t mean that,” she said. “It would kill him.” He sighed. “He loves you, he’d die for you.”

“And you love him,” Anton said, “and I love you, even if you don’t believe me,” she looked at him. “Seems like we all love the wrong person, Livvie.” She frowned at that. She and Tom never discussed it. What his feelings for Anton were. If they were anything beyond friendship, she was afraid to ask. But she couldn’t explain what being in love was like to someone who wasn’t, who hadn’t been. Her mind was constantly occupied by Tom, even when he was away, even during her nights with Anton. And when he was near, it took everything in her to not touch him, not talk to him.

She never felt that way with Anton. She loved their time together, the sex was mind blowing, but it wasn’t the same feeling at all.

“Why?” He asked. Olivia looked at him. “You said you have to marry. Why?” She looked at him.

“I don’t want to live with my father forever,” she frowned. Anton took her hand and kissed it.

“I’ve offered you a way out of that,” he pointed out. She smiled.

“I want children,” she said. Anton sat back. “And there it is.” He exhaled.

“I could give you children,” he said.

“Not without marriage,” she said, with a raise of her shoulder. “I won’t end up like Allison Bettencourt, shuffled off to some country retreat because ‘Dovetail bastards aren’t kept in the capital.'” He frowned. It had been a long time since they had discussed his father’s former mistress, a girl not much older than them, who’d fallen pregnant and subsequently been banished from court. Olivia had been disturbed by the whole episode, and Anton had spent a lot of time reassuring her that she had nothing to fear, he’d never let such a thing happen to her.

“I’m not my father, Livvie,” he whispered. She looked at him.

“No,” she said, “you aren’t.” He looked at her. “I understand if you never want to get married, Anton,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine looking at your parents it seems particularly appealing,” he nodded, “but in that case, you should spend more time with your cousin.” He groaned.

“Brayton is not the answer to this problem,” he shook his head. Olivia shrugged and pulled a robe on.

“He’s next in line after you,” she said, “if you’re not going to marry and have children, he’ll be king eventually.”

“Gods,” Anton muttered, “that’s troubling.” She laughed. “If this is a ploy to get me to marry you, it might work.” She sighed.

“It is not a ploy,” she kissed him softly. “I don’t want to marry you. I wouldn’t mind it, but I love Tom.” She pressed her forehead to his. “I think I’ll do better at Madame Martin than I would as Queen Olivia.”

“So this is goodbye, then?” Anton asked. Olivia nodded. He stood up and went and pulled a rope, that she knew called a servant or guard.

“What are you doing?” She giggled.

“You rang?” John Dugarry walked in. “Cornan save me, Anton please cover yourself. Hello Livvie.”

“Hello,” she giggled.

“Lady Olivia and require something very luxurious to eat, and some of that sparkling wine from Brightcoast,” Anton said. John sighed loudly.

“I’m not your butler, get your own damn wine,” he said. “And you should both know that toasting her engagement right after whatever you two just did is in terrible taste.”

“Oh, John, you don’t mean that,” Olivia pouted. He looked at her. “How did you know?”

“Please,” he rolled his eyes. Anton had pulled pants on. “Tom has been asking me for months what I thought your answer would be.” Olivia looked at her friend.

“Really?” She blushed. Anton sighed. “Oh you’ll find someone else, stop being dramatic.”

“I won’t like her nearly as much,” Anton shook his head. “John, I was serious about the wine.”

“Anton, I was serious about not getting it,” John smirked.

“And what about you?” Olivia asked sitting down with him. “Are you going to Dorin soon?”

“Sometime this year,” John said. “My father is eager for the business to be done so he can wash his hands of Dumanis. He doesn’t trust him.”

“With good reason,” Anton shook his head, “Carlton Dumanis is merciless, my father calls him a thug in a velvet jacket.” John shrugged.

“Unless his daughter is also heartless, I doubt I’ll be through with him for most of my life,” John shrugged and poured himself a glass of wine.

Twelve Years Later

“I was so worried,” Olivia said opening the kitchen door and letting Anton in. He was holding Annalise against his hip, her little head leaned against his shoulder as she slumbered, “oh darling thing,” she whispered and took her. “Where is Marie?”

“We got separated,” Anton said, his voice cracking. Olivia looked at him. “I’m just telling myself that he wouldn’t hurt her, it’s the only thing keeping me sane.” Annalise stirred.

“I’ll send word to Trey first thing, he’ll find her,” Olivia said as they walked upstairs. Annalise stirred and woke up, her wide grey eyes stared into hers.

“Papa? Where’s Mama?” She asked. Anton cupped her face.

“She’ll be here soon, my love,” he whispered.

“For now let me take you to the nursery and you can sleep with Viscount Aaron,” Olivia said. The Princess stretched and yawned. “Sleep well, dearest,” Olivia kissed her. She hated this separation for Marie and Annalise. The idea of even a few nights away from Aaron made her feel itchy.

“Thank you,” Annalise said, “where’s Thena?”

“In Dovetail,” Olivia said softly, “looking after Mama.”

“Good,” Annalise said before snuggling and falling back to sleep. Olivia went downstairs and saw Anton sitting with Caleb.

“Did she fall back to sleep?” Anton asked. Olivia nodded.

“She asked for Athena,” Olivia sighed. Anton nodded.

“Are the Dugarrys coming?” Caleb asked.

“Not until we get Marie out,” Anton shook his head. “Alexia won’t leave her and John won’t leave Alexia and the twins,” he sighed. “Tristan is frightfully serious for a little one and Athena barely leaves Annalise’s side, I don’t think the separation will be good for anyone.”

“What about Anne and Les?” Caleb asked. “Last I heard they were leaving, but surely Marina’s a useful hostage, he would have tried to hold them back.”

“They got to Brightcoast,” Anton sighed. “Thank the gods. Marina can’t even crawl yet, I’m sure it was slow going.” Olivia smiled. “I shouldn’t have left the city.”

“She’ll be safe,” Caleb said. “You’re right that Brayton won’t see her harmed. Locked away maybe, but between John, Alexia and Trey we can work with that.” Anton nodded. Olivia always wondered what her former lover and her husband thought of each other. They hadn’t really ever been friends. But Marie and her brother adored Caleb, which covered a large swath of awkwardness. “Your son is growing well.” Anton snorted a laugh.

“Don’t even joke about it,” Olivia shook her head. Caleb looked at her indulgently. “They’ll use it against Annalise.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Anton said, “even if Aaron were my son, which is obviously impossible, Annalise is my child, born with my wife, she’d be ahead of him in line.”

“She’s a girl,” Olivia said. “And half Phanian. If anyone were to take it seriously that Aaron might be your son,” she exhaled, “it’s been enough this time.”

“None of this is your fault, Livvie,” Anton said. She looked at him.

“We were reckless,” she said. “I was,” she picked at her skirt.

“That’s your father talking,” Caleb said. She looked at him. Reckless little slut, she could still hear him yelling, feel the sting of a paddle or whip or belt. “This will all pass, Olivia. Aaron won’t be a weapon.” She smiled at her husband, always knowing what to say.

“I know you won’t sleep, Anton,” Olivia said softly, “but you should try.” He nodded and left the room. “Something terrible is going to happen.”

“It’s already happened,” Caleb said, “we’ll find Marie, Olivia, I swear it.”

Six Months Later

“Olivia,” Caleb walked into the nursery where she was stroking the sleeping Annalise’s head. “Everyone’s here, we have to talk about it.”

“We can’t send her away,” Olivia whispered. He kissed her head gently. “She’s his.”

“I know, my love,” he said softly. “But it’s not only up to us.” She stood up and walked down to the study. Tom and Alexia and John were sitting waiting. Les and Anne had just arrived, Anne holding baby Marina in her arms.

“Livvie,” Tom whispered and she ran to him. Maybe it was wrong, Caleb was right here, but she wanted to hold him. Only he would understand. “I’m so sorry, my dearest.”

“Me too,” she whispered. “She’s staying here.”

“Just like that?” John said. “It’s an awfully final decision to make.” Olivia stared daggers at her old friend. “We all lost them, Livvie, not just you.” She suddenly felt terribly guilty, why did John have to see everything so clearly?

“Anton and Marie are buried here,” Les whispered, “that matters.” Anne squeezed her husband’s hand. “And Brayton trusts Caleb, or at least doesn’t distrust him.”

“What about your cousin?” Alexia asked. Les looked at her and inhaled.

“Elana has offered us safety,” he shrugged, “and I’ve written two letters. One accepting her, and the other saying that Annalise disappeared with Anselm.” Anne frowned.

“We don’t necessarily trust her, or Daniel,” Anne explained. “Especially since Cyrus has been failing, and the little prince died.”

“Not Aimee’s son?” Alexia asked.

“No, Elana and Daniel’s,” Anne said gently. “Stillborn, poor thing. Eric is thriving, which is almost more worrying.”

“They’ll want a betrothal,” John said. “Especially if she’s living there.” Alexia snorted derisively. “Oh, do you have an opinion on it, Lexi? Please enlighten us, you’ve never mentioned it!” Olivia almost wanted to smile, she knew it was grief and exhaustion fueling John’s mood but at least he was acting like himself. That was a comfort.

“Children shouldn’t be pawns in power games,” she said sharply to her husband. He looked at her. “We got lucky. Annalise and Eric may not.”

“Don’t let your father or Trey hear you talking that way,” Tom said. “They’re already cataloguing Athena’s dowry.” Alexia glared at him. “Annalise is already half Phanian and in hiding. I don’t think that being raised out of the country will help matters.” He lifted her face. “You want her?”

“Of course,” she whispered. He smiled gently at her. “She’s Anton’s daughter.” He nodded and looked at Caleb.

“Anything,” Caleb whispered. “Anything she wants.”

Olivia lay in bed that night crying softly. She had every night for a week. Caleb came in and sat down.

“Olivia,” he whispered, “you know I’ve never questioned you,” she rolled over. “I swore I never would,” she looked at him.

“Do you doubt me?” She whispered. He cupped her face.

“Maybe your heart, a little,” he whispered, “I’m not a saint, my love.” She smiled. “I’ve never doubted your faithfulness, and I’m not jealous by nature,” he trailed off.

“I loved Anton,” she said, “he was my dearest friend,” Caleb nodded. “And when we were together it was, well, it was like living in constant sunshine.” She kissed him. “But we weren’t in love, it wasn’t like that, between us. Nothing like this, like us,” he smiled. “But she’s Anton’s, she’s a part of him and I can’t have lost all of him, Caleb, I just can’t.” He nodded and kissed her again.

“Alright,” he said. “She’s ours then.” She smiled. “She’ll need a new name.”

“And a story,” she whispered. He nodded. “Is she yours?” He laughed.

“Years of you being unfaithful and suddenly I had a Phanian mistress?” He said. She smiled. “There’s a war, Olivia, there are plenty of orphans and everyone knows we wanted more children, an adoption wouldn’t be that strange.” She nodded. “It will be hard on Aaron.”

“To have a sister?” Olivia asked and snuggled into him.

“To have a secret,” Caleb whispered. She nodded.

“It is a little selfish of me,” Olivia whispered, “maybe Brightcoast would be better. Les is her uncle.” Caleb exhaled.

“That’s too dangerous,” he whispered. “She and Marina together,” Olivia exhaled. He was probably right about that. Caleb’s mind turned that way, it was remarkable, he always saw four steps ahead of her, and she usually saw six steps ahead of everyone else. “No, here is right, even with the bonus that it will make you happy.” She looked at him.

“I might still have another,” she said softly. He looked at hver.

“After Joseph,” he said softly, “I don’t know that I can do it again, Olivia.” She looked at him. “I love you, and we can keep trying, if you really want to, but,” he closed his eyes. “We don’t need it.”

“Poor Joseph,” she whispered, she’d at least gotten to hold him. Which was somehow better and worse than the miscarriages. He’d come too soon, he was too small, he could barely breathe. And she’d held him until he stopped. And then Caleb had held her. Had let her cry and scream and curse the gods, and then he’d wrapped their little boy in satin, and let her look away while they put him in the ground. But Caleb hadn’t looked away, hadn’t blinked, hadn’t faltered.

He never did.

“Lisette,” he whispered. Olivia looked at him. “Her name.”

“That came quickly,” she smiled.

“It was the one I had in mind,” he admitted, “if Joseph had been a girl,” he drifted off. “It’s like a part of Annalise, I thought it would be nice, to honor her,” she looked at him. The depths of this man.

“Lisette then,” she said. “She’s ours.” Caleb nodded.