The smell of cedar shavings and the soft bleating of goats should have been a comfort, but to Skye, the sounds were muffled, as if she were underwater. She stood by the wooden fence of the petting zoo, her hand resting on Adam's back as he giggled, offering a handful of hay to a persistent calf. Outwardly, she was the picture of the doting mother-figure, but internally, her mind was a frantic, spinning carousel of insecurity.
Every time she glanced over her shoulder at the two dark figures standing near the neon blur of the midway, a fresh wave of nausea rolled through her. Tish was striking- there was no denying that. She was the biological blueprint for the boy sitting on the fence. She had the same curls, the same soulful depth to her eyes.
Skye looked down at her own pale hands and felt a sudden, sharp sense of displacement.
Who am I to them? The thought was a jagged shard of glass. For months, she had been the "Songbird," the fugitive, the protector, and finally, the woman at Roman's side. She had carved out a space in the Thorne estate with her music, her laughter, and her love for a boy who wasn't hers. But now, the original occupant of that space was back. Tish wasn't a shadow or a memory anymore; she was flesh and blood, standing in the light, talking to the man Skye loved.
Skye felt like an interloper in her own life. She imagined Tish's hands on Roman's arm, imagined the shared history they held- the birth of a son, the quiet moments of a past life she could never be a part of. The chair she had finally grown comfortable in felt like it was being pulled out from under her, inch by agonizing inch. She felt a sudden, desperate urge to grab Adam and run- not from a Prince this time, but from the terrifying possibility that she was replaceable.
"Skye? The goat ate my hat!" Adam's laughter broke through her spiral.
She forced a smile, her heart heavy as lead. "He's just hungry, bunny. Let's get it back."
Then, she felt it- that familiar, grounding vibration of a heavy tread on the grass. Roman was back.
He didn't say a word as he approached. He simply stepped behind her, his large, warm hand sliding around her waist with a grip that was less of a touch and more of a claim. He pulled her back against his chest, his solid weight a wall against the chaos of her mind. He didn't look at the goats or the fair; he buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent as if he had been starved of air for the last ten minutes.
"I love you," he whispered against her skin, the words a low, fierce vow meant only for her.
The three words hit her like a lightning strike. They weren't just a declaration; they were an anchor. In that one sentence, he was telling her that Tish was the past, and she was the only future he recognized. Skye leaned back into him, her eyes closing briefly as she let his possessive heat burn away the edges of her jealousy.
"Let's go home," Roman murmured.
The drive back to the Villa was silent, the interior of the armored SUV a cool, leather-scented sanctuary. In the middle row, Adam was a dead weight in his car seat, his head lolling to the side, his stuffed bear tucked under his arm. He had fought sleep until the moment the tires hit the pavement, finally succumbing to the exhaustion of a day spent as a "Scout."
Roman drove with one hand on the wheel and the other firmly interlaced with Skye's. He didn't let go, even when he had to navigate the winding mountain roads. He waited until they were miles away from the lights of the town before he spoke.
"I'm letting her see him," Roman said, his voice a gravelly rumble in the quiet cabin. "Supervised. Short. Through my legal team."
Skye looked out the window at the passing shadows of the pines. She felt the jealousy flare up again, a sharp, green spark, but she forced herself to breathe through it. She wanted to scream that Tish didn't deserve him. She wanted to point out the manipulation she'd seen in the other woman's eyes. But she looked back at Adam's sleeping face in the rearview mirror and the words died in her throat.
"I know why you're doing it," Skye said softly, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart.
"He deserves to know where he came from," Roman said, his grip on her hand tightening until it was almost painful. "I spent my life wondering about the blanks in my own story, Skye. I won't do that to him. If I keep her away, she becomes a martyr. A mystery. If I let him see her- with us there, with the truth of who she is, he gets to decide. I have to give him that choice, even if it kills me to let her near him."
Skye didn't voice her worries. She didn't tell him how much she feared that Tish would try to weave a spell over Adam, or that her presence would slowly erode the bond Skye had built with the boy. She knew her place. She wasn't the legal mother; she was the woman Roman loved. In the eyes of the law, she was still a stranger to the Thorne bloodline.
"I trust you, Roman," she said, and she realized she meant it. "You've always known how to protect what's yours. If you think this is the right path for Adam, then I'm with you."
"She's nothing to me, Skye," Roman said, his voice dropping into that dark, intense register that always made her skin prickle. "She's a biological fact, nothing more. You're the one who stayed. You're the one who makes this house a home. Don't you ever think for a second that she could take your place. There isn't enough money or history in the world to make me look at her the way I look at you."
He pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road, the engine idling low. He turned in his seat, his eyes burning with a desperate, possessive sincerity. He reached out, his hand cupping her jaw, his thumb tracing her lower lip.
"You're my Skye," he whispered. "The only one I want to see when I wake up. The only one I want Adam to call 'Mom' when he's old enough to understand what that word really means. She's just a visitor. You're the owner."
Skye felt the last of the ice around her heart melt. She leaned into his touch, her hand resting over his on her face. She realized then that Roman wasn't just defending her from Tish; he was defending himself from the guilt of his past. He needed her to be strong so he could be.
"Then we do it together," she whispered. "We let her in, and we show her exactly how much she missed out on."
Roman leaned across the center console and kissed her- a deep, hungry, desperate kiss that tasted of salt and shadows. It was a seal on their agreement, a reminder that they were a unit, a fortress that no ghost could haunt.
As they pulled back into the driveway of the Villa, the gates closing behind them with a definitive clack, Skye looked at the massive stone house. It was still a fortress, but tonight, it felt like it was finally big enough for all of them- even the ghosts. She would be the silence, the song, and the strength. She would be the Queen, and she would let the pretender realize that the throne was already very, very occupied.