Total pages in book: 230
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
Weston shook his head. “This is for you. I’ve gotten to be too American to possibly handle that breakfast. I’ve got an omelet and some fruit. Your fiancée ordered for you. She’s attempting to take over some of the queen’s duties.”
His stomach grumbled and he couldn’t help but smile. Day remembered. They’d often had breakfast together and he would always order a full English breakfast. She would wrinkle her nose as she ate some tiny thing and drank an enormous cup of coffee. He’d never had a woman other than his mother order breakfast for him.
There were only four plates. He hoped Hanin was sitting off to the side somewhere and he could ignore him, but somehow he doubted the world would be so kind to him. That meant there wasn’t a place for Day.
“Should we invite my…?” He’d almost called her his wife. It was weird. He would have a wife in two weeks’ time. “Should we invite the future queen? She might have something to say about her schedule.”
Weston took a cup of coffee from the young woman serving breakfast. “Ms. Samar is also indisposed. She’s having a spa day. I hope you don’t mind, but my Chelsea and Jesse’s wife, Phoebe, offered to join her. Apparently Ms. Samar doesn’t have many close girlfriends, and spa days are much more fun when shared. I also think we should talk about a few specific threats that could be rather stressful for your bride-to-be. I thought I would talk about those before your mother gets here.”
“Threats?” He smiled at the maid, who handed him a perfectly brewed cup of coffee. Usually he gulped it down, desperately needing the caffeine. It was nice to savor it, to truly taste the unique flavor. He’d missed this coffee. Loa Mali coffee was unlike anything else he’d ever tried. “Are you talking about the antimonarchists? They love to threaten me. They never do anything at all about it.”
All talk. Blah. Blah. Kill the king. Blah. Blah something boring and political. Death to the Kamdars. Blah. So typical and yet they never even tried to murder him.
“I think there’s something different now,” Weston said.
“Why now?”
“Because up until now you’ve shown no signs of any chance that you would marry soon. Without marriage there was always the possibility that the monarchy would end with you.”
“I’m not the last Kamdar. My cousin could take the throne if something happened to me.”
“Chapal?”
“Yes, he is obnoxious but quite intelligent.” After all, he was a Kamdar.
“He’s also gay.”
Kash waved that thought off. “Yes, though he is a terrible dresser. No style at all. What his husband sees in him I will never know.”
“By constitutional law, he can take the throne, but unless he is willing to procreate, the line would end with him.”
Ah, he hadn’t thought of that. He’d always thought that Chapal would carry on and be the absolute worst-dressed homosexual king in the world. His husband, Ben, would have to do all the hard work of making things livable in the palace. Chapal was too attached to his bloody computer.
But after Kash, Chapal was the last Kamdar. “I’ll start the wheels to change that. The world is not where it was two hundred years ago. If Chapal adopts, his child should not be punished. We’re not in the Dark Ages, though the antimonarchists would have you believe it. So you think they’re serious this time because I’m getting married?”
“You’ve gotten threats?” His mother walked into the room, her voice strong but her body seemingly so frail.
Kash stood and walked to her, offering her his hand to steady her. He ignored Hanin, who walked in behind her. Hanin would be gone soon enough. He would allow the man to stay around because his mother favored him, but the minute she was gone so was Hanin.
His stomach turned. Had he really just thought about his mother being dead?
“Are you all right?” His mother stared up at him.
“I’m fine. I’m adjusting.” And not well. He was floundering. “Come along. We have much to talk about and your breakfast is ready.”
She waved him off but found her chair. “I’ll have some tea, please.”
“Your son’s fiancée ordered you tea and toast,” Weston said.
“I told the cook the queen wasn’t interested in food.” Hanin sat down to his own breakfast, setting aside his ever-present planner.
“And my daughter-in-law-to-be wished to give me the choice.” His mother picked up a knife and began to butter her toast. “I think this should be quite nice. My stomach can’t handle much right now, but this looks good.”
Day was getting his mother to eat even when she wasn’t here. Still, he was angry with her. Oddly, not as angry as he’d been the night before. He’d wanted to rage at her, but hours in Day’s company had defused the anger and what that hadn’t calmed, seeing his mother’s frail figure had. He settled himself into his chair, his appetite coming back. “Mr. Weston was talking about the antimonarchists.”