I Got Married To My Killer

CHAPTER 22

Grace Johnson hadn't stepped out of her chamber since the confrontation with Robert. The weight of everything pressed down on her, making even the air in her room feel suffocating. Servants had come to her door, knocking gently, their voices tentative, but she dismissed them all. Even the palace officials who needed her signature on important matters were turned away.

She sat curled against the wall, staring at nothing in particular, her mind trapped in a storm of thoughts she couldn't tame.

Finally, after much deliberation, she allowed Queen Judith to enter.

When Queen Judith stepped inside, she found Grace or rather, the prince sitting on the floor, defeated. Frustration clung to every inch of his body, anger smoldering in his darkened eyes. Judith's heart clenched at the sight. The last time she had seen her son in such a state was when he lost his wife. And now? What had broken him this time?

She took a long, measured breath before speaking.

"You've refused to eat, you've ignored your meetings, and worst of all, you're yet to sign the letters for Juliet's family's arrival. Quicke, what is wrong with you?" Her voice was sharp but laced with worry.

The only response she got was the hollow stillness of the room. Judith took a step closer, her expression hardening.

"For crying out loud, you are soon to be king, Quicke. We won't always be here to coddle you."

Before she could continue, Grace's voice low, wavering, and edged with something raw cut through the air.

"Enough of your sermons, Mother."

Judith stiffened.

"All you care about is how to make me the perfect king for your kingdom," Grace continued, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "You don't see me. You don't even notice that something is wrong. You never realized that your son has been gone this entire time."

Judith's brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"At least I thought you'd be different. The way you look at me, the way you question me, I thought you would see past the surface, that you'd be a mother first, not a queen. But you're just like everyone else. I wonder how I even got here."

The words spilled out before she could stop them. And the moment they did, Grace realized she had said too much.

Judith sat down on the edge of the bed, her face shadowed with unreadable emotions.

"What do you mean by that, Quicke?" Her voice was dangerously calm. "What do you mean, 'I thought you'd be different'? Answer me."

Grace's pulse quickened. She had let her emotions get the best of her, and now she was on the verge of exposing too much. No one would believe her. Her truth didn't fit into the reality they knew. She had to be careful.

Quickly, she forced herself to take a deep breath, smoothing over the tension in her voice.

"Mother… oh, Mother," she whispered, rising to her feet and stepping toward Judith.

She wrapped her arms around her, resting her chin on her shoulder.

"I'm just… overwhelmed. This burden, this responsibility, I haven't had a moment to breathe, and now I feel like no one sees me. No one realizes that I, too, need reassurance sometimes. Forgive me if my words were harsh. I wasn't thinking clearly."

Judith's body remained tense beneath her touch. Grace knew that her mother was still processing what had just happened, still trying to piece together the cracks in her son's facade.

And so, she played her pity card.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Then another.

"I'm sorry, Mother," she sobbed, pressing her forehead against Judith's shoulder. "They say men shouldn't cry, but I, I can't be strong forever. The weight is too much."

Judith sighed, her arms wrapping around her son.

"Men don't cry," she agreed, but her voice was softer now. "But I will not judge you for it. You have your moments, and I should have been more understanding." She pulled back slightly, cupping Grace's face in her hands. "I may doubt many things, Quicke, but I never doubt you. Every night, when I go to bed, I find peace knowing that you were born for this. You are perfect, my Quicke."

Guilt crept into Grace's chest like a slow-moving poison. Judith was clueless, completely unaware of the truth. And here she was, lying to a woman who, despite her strictness, truly loved her son.

For the first time, she hugged her mother, not just as an act, but sincerely.

The moment was brief, but in that silence, Grace felt something unfamiliar. A longing. A grief for something she had never truly had, not even as Grace Johnson.

Just then, the sound of shuffling footsteps broke the stillness.

Grace turned her head and saw Robert standing at the door.

He looked as though he had been lost in thought, debating whether to step inside or walk away. But now, caught in their gaze, he straightened awkwardly.

Judith pulled away, smoothing down the folds of her gown. "I should leave," she said softly, casting one last glance at her son before slipping past Robert and disappearing down the hall.

Now, it was just the two of them.

Grace turned away, walking toward the window, her arms crossing over her chest. She didn't trust herself to look at him just yet.

Robert, still standing near the door, clasped his hands behind his back. His voice was hesitant when he finally spoke.

"Your Highness… I am deeply sorry."

Grace said nothing.

Robert exhaled, taking a step forward.

"I know I am not worthy to stand before you after what I did," he continued, his voice low. "But if you would allow me to explain myself, I swear to you, Prince Quicke I meant no disrespect. I never intended to pry into things that do not concern me. I was wrong."

Another pause.

Grace closed her eyes, gripping the windowsill. The anger inside her had not yet settled, but neither had the lingering hurt.

Robert shifted on his feet. "I promise never to intrude again. I will keep my place, and I will not question you again, Your Highness."

He bowed his head, awaiting judgment.

And Grace who had once been a woman caught in the wrong body, who had once been betrayed and murdered, who had once vowed to never let anyone get close again finally turned to face him.

Her expression was unreadable, and then, at last, she spoke.

"Get up, Robert," she said, her voice steady, but void of emotion.

Robert hesitated before straightening.

Grace stepped toward him, closing the space between them. When she spoke next, her voice was low, almost a whisper. "You say you won't intrude. But I know you, Robert." She tilted her head slightly, eyes locked onto his.

"You're not one to let things go so easily."

The tension in the room thickened.