Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
“Don’t you say another word about that. Not to anyone.” I point at the cottage where my other sisters are no doubt eating breakfast. “That goes for them, too.”
Katrina looks hurt. “Do you think we wish to see our only brother hanged?”
Regretting my outburst, I lower my voice. “No, of course I don’t.”
“What are you thinking, Rex?” She pauses. “Do you love her?”
“Yes. God, yes.” Every ounce of the longing and misery inside of me seems to be packed into those three words. “Deeply.”
“Is she the reason you took the position at the palace?”
“Of course. I’d do it again, too. And again. Because I’m a fool.”
My sister shakes her head. “You’re not a fool.”
“Oh, I promise, I am.” I swallow but can’t seem to rid myself of the sharp lodgment in my throat. “I knew what was coming. Knew they were bringing two princes—two qualified men—to come meet her today and I allowed us to—” I break off and close my eyes. “She will likely marry another man before the sun sets this eve.”
“But…” Katrina’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand. She does not seem the wishy-washy type. She would give you her affection, then turn to another?”
“She will marry to build an alliance, put a new king in the throne and protect the kingdom, but…” I sigh, forcing myself to say the painful truth out loud. In front of a witness. So maybe I’ll finally get it through my thick skull and stop fantasizing about a life that will never be. “She only turned to me for comfort after the loss of the king and queen. It has been my privilege to give her that. She will soon realize there are far better options, though.”
“You’re wrong. I know you faced a fair bit of ridicule growing up. Maybe even still. But brother, hear me, there are no better options than you.”
“I am not a royal,” I point out. “I am a low born blacksmith playing at being a guard so I can moon over the queen. And I can’t…do that anymore.”
As soon as I say the words out loud, I realize how true they are.
Yesterday was my first day as the queen’s private guard and today is my last.
There is no way I can stand around and watch her marry another. Birth him children.
The best I could hope for is to be her lover—and I refuse to share.
All I can do is return her to the safety of the palace walls and go back to being a blacksmith. I’ll live off the memory of our magical time together, but I’ll have to do it from the real world. I have to get my head out of the clouds.
I wait for my sister to return to the cottage before climbing out of the creek and hastily redressing. When I reach the stables a few minutes later, I find Britta pacing back and forth, wringing her shawl in her hands. She sees me and stops, examining my face with a hopeful expression, but whatever she sees there causes her shoulders to slump. The sight of her disappointment slays me, blackening my already dark mood.
“We have to get you back before the first morning guard rotation,” I say, going to the stable and guiding out my horse. Forcing myself to be cold. “You have a busy day ahead.”
* * *
Britta
I stare down at the two garishly dressed, visibly arrogant men in front of my throne.
Richard holds a scroll and reads from it, proudly listing the myriad titles held by each prince, but I can barely hear anything over the buzzing in my ears.
Rex didn’t come through. He didn’t ask me to be with him.
Not just for one night, but always.
He’s actually going to let me choose between two other men.
One is blond and can’t seem to stop admiring the rubies on his hand.
The other is bald with ironically full eyebrows.
I regard them as one might a couple of odd bugs.
My heart is shattered on the stone floors of the grand hall, yet no one seems to acknowledge it. I haven’t said a word since arriving for this meeting. Doesn’t anyone wonder why? Can’t everyone see I’m bereft and heartsick?
Rex stands just inside the door of the great hall, head and shoulders above everyone else. It’s little consolation that he looks like he’s strapped into a torture device. Or that his hand is curled and shaking around the hilt of his sword, as if he might draw it at any moment and slay the two princes. No, that does nothing to comfort me.
On the ride back to the palace, he spoke to me only once—and it was to inform me he would be resigning his post as soon as I chose the future king.
Did last night mean nothing? Have I been completely naïve?
“Queen Britta,” Richard prompts me in a way that suggests he’s been calling my name for a while. “We think it might be best if you spend a little time with each of our lovely guests. Perhaps a walk around the gardens? Or a picnic near the river?”