I had very few choices in my life. There weren’t many things I could actually control. The woman I married was one of the few things.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to marry Bryce. I barely knew the girl. But I did know that I wanted to get to know her. I wanted to make her mine. And maybe in the process, I’d teach her that she wanted to be my queen. Maybe that wasn’t a great political move, but fuck politics.
Sometimes I needed to do whatever the fuck I wanted to do. What was the point of being king if I couldn’t make my own choices?
I was choosing to keep Bryce around, because she made my fucking blood ring like a bell. That was good enough for now.
As I turned a corner, I nearly ran headfirst into a man coming the other way.
“Your Highness,” he said, stepping back. “I’m very sorry.”
I cleared my throat. It was Nicolai Corvin, the young agricultural minister. He came from a prominent southern family and was currently living in the castle because rebels had captured his family’s estate.
I didn’t like Nicolai one fucking bit. He was a thin, pale man with a thin mustache and a creepy smile. He was always so damn polite; it drove me mad.
“Forget it, Nicolai,” I said. “As you were.”
“Your Majesty, while I have you, could we talk some about the farmland in the Hinter Valley?”
“Maybe another time, Nicolai. I have meetings to attend.”
“Yes, of course, Your Majesty. It’s just that, the rebels took them, and they were a big source of grain for the capital.”
I sighed. “Yes, I’m aware.”
“We’ll need to subsidize other farmland, and possibly import some grain to make up for shortages.”
“We’ll talk later, Nicolai,” I said. “Make an appointment.”
“Very well, Your Majesty.”
I nodded to him and resumed my walk, the guards close behind me.
That Nicolai guy always made me uncomfortable, but he’d reminded me of what I was supposed to be doing. We were fighting a war, and I couldn’t lose sight of that.
I needed to keep focused and ready no matter what.
11
BRYCE
“The king seems taken with you.”
I sighed, shaking my head. I was sitting on a bench in the courtyard, surrounded by flowering plants and singing birds up in the trees. Dad smiled at me.
“He’s not taken with me,” I said. “He’s just bored.”
“I don’t know, kid. He seems to like you.”
“What are you doing, Dad? Why do you want me to marry this guy?”
He sighed. “I don’t, honestly. It would mean a lot of changes for us.”
“Then why are you pushing it?”
“Because it could be great for you. And who knows, maybe you’d actually like the guy if you gave him a chance.”
I sighed, shaking my head. He wouldn’t be pushing this if he knew what King Asshole said to me when we were alone.
“I don’t think it’s going to happen, Dad.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I don’t feel like learning another language anyway.”
I laughed and leaned back on the bench. Lucy was off in the royal spa getting her nails done, which left me alone with Dad. We only found the courtyard at all because we stopped and asked for directions about ten times. The castle really was super confusing, but at least there were plenty of people around to help direct us.
And I kept thinking about my tour with Trip. He was so cocky and brash most of the time, but every once in a while he gave me a glimpse of something else. When he’d been talking about the library, and about his family, I had seen something underneath that cocky attitude. I didn’t know what it was, but it was definitely there.
And he didn’t seem as taken aback about the panties as I had hoped. Actually, it had only seemed to encourage him. I was going to have to think of something else to rile him up.
As we sat there enjoying the nice day, a servant appeared from around a bend.
“Miss Bryce?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“Here you are. From His Majesty.”
“Thank you.” The servant bowed and left.
“I’ll never get used to that,” Dad said. “They actually bow. It’s bizarre.”
“We’re in a country with a king,” I said. “That’s weird in itself.”
“Yeah,” Dad agreed. “And their internet is way faster than ours.”
I laughed as I opened the envelope the servant had handed me. Inside was a simple piece of paper with Trip’s handwriting.
“Have dinner with me. I’ll send Al for you at eight. Your parents have other plans. Trip.”
“What’s that?” Dad asked.