Free Elizabeth Raines by Their Princess

love transferred to her as well. The notion of people fighting and dying on her behalf felt elating yet a bit like a blow to the gut. She didn’t want anyone’s life lost for her.
    All of her father’s advice started tumbling in her brain. As his only child, she’d been told stories of battles he’d led and challenges he’d faced as ruler of their world. She’d never really stopped to think that people had fought by his side and died for his cause—for the good of Trilan.
    “These people truly want me to return?” she asked Betinsa.
    “Syla, you can’t be thinking—”
    She cut off Luka’s scolding with a slash of her hand, much like her father used whenever he was done discussing a topic. She was, after all, her father’s daughter.
    “They wish you to lead them,” Betinsa replied. “They want to remove Thama and Preval from the palace. She is to be crowned next week after your father’s state funeral. Then she plans to crown Preval as her prince and heir apparent. The rebels wish to stop the coronations.”
    “Then lead them I shall.” Syla’s decision was made. If her people needed her, she would do her father proud and answer their pleas.
    “Syla, no.” Luka wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and squeezed hard. “Don’t do this. Stay here. You’re safe here.”
    “I am dead here,” she insisted.
    “Dead?” His eyes searched hers. “You love it here. You’ve thrived here.”
    The words were difficult for her, but she owed it to Luka to explain. “This is the place I healed. I cannot stay here forever. You knew that. I must go back. No choice have I.”
    Jake stepped up to them. “If you have to go, we understand, sweetheart. Luka and I will go with you—we’ll guard your back and help the rebels.”
    Luka was already shaking his head. “Not me.”
    “What?”
    “I won’t leave Montana. I won’t .”
    Syla couldn’t contain a gasp. After everything they’d shared since Jake had brought her here, she’d assumed the three of them would always be together. She’d even dreamed of a royal wedding where her father marched her down the long aisle of the ancient cathedral so she could exchange vows with her two handsome husbands.
    But her father was dead, and Luka clearly didn’t love her.
    There would be no happy ending here.
    She felt as though someone had thrust a knife into her heart, and her eyes filled with tears.
    Luka took her hand, and it took every ounce of her strength not to jerk it away. Anger warred with love. How dare he take her to his bed to share all they’d shared and then write her off as though she were nothing to him?
    How dare he!
    The intensity of her rage meant only one thing—she’d fallen in love with Luka the same way she’d tumbled head over heels for Jake. She’d given her heart to this man in three short weeks, but he’d withheld his own like some precious treasure, refusing to even let her touch it.
    Part of her understood. From all Jake told her, Luka had enjoyed a good marriage with Jake and Kimini. Then his wife had been taken from him in a cruel twist of fate. How could a man with a heart so badly damaged ever open up to that kind of pain again?
    Yet Jake had. Jake’s heart was big enough to love Kimini and still love Syla. He told her so. Often. And up until the moment Luka said he couldn’t leave Montana, Syla had believed that Luka would find room for her in his heart too—that she, Jake, and Luka would be together for the rest of their lives.
    Once again, her naiveté had hurt her.
    The time had come to grow up.
    Syla straightened her spine and slowly withdrew her hand from Luka’s, not even giving him a chance to say anything. “I will gather my things.” She walked back toward the house, her head held high.
     
    Jake took deep breaths to keep from punching the man he loved in the face. This wasn’t Luka—at least not the Luka that Jake knew and loved. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
    Luka had the audacity to scowl at