King Gaius cocked his head, regarding Aron with barely restrained amusement, as if he were a trained monkey. “Quite. And how do you feel about this abrupt change, Princess Cleiona?”
Her mouth had gone dry after hearing Aron’s little rant, which sounded like a child stomping his foot when his toys were taken from him at bedtime. Aron was so accustomed to getting his way that it had completely disrupted his common sense. However, she couldn’t entirely blame him for trying to salvage what little power he had in the palace. But if he were smart—and she already knew brains were never Aron’s greatest asset—he would see that Cleo no longer wielded any power here, had no influence apart from being a figurehead meant to keep the Auranian people in line and gain their trust.
She forced a smile. “Of course, I certainly bow to whatever decision the wise king makes on my behalf.” The falseness of the words twisted in her throat. “It’s just . . . Aron might have some weight to his argument. The kingdom was rather smitten by the thought of us together after Aron’s very . . . well, fierce protection of me that day in the Paelsian market.”
She inwardly shuddered at the memory of Tomas Agallon’s murder, an act that had nothing to do with protection and more to do with Aron overreacting to a personal insult.
“I assure you, I did consider this.” The king’s stolen crown caught the torchlight and glinted. “Lord Aron is wholly embraced by the Auranian people, without question. It’s one of the reasons I’ve just informed him of my decision to bestow the title of kings-liege upon him.”
Aron bowed deeply. “And I am very pleased by this honor, your majesty.”
“Kingsliege,” Magnus mused from beside her, loud enough for only Cleo to hear. “Such a lofty title for one who’s never even been in battle. How deeply pathetic.”
King Gaius studied Cleo closely. “Do you wish to remain engaged to Lord Aron?”
She wanted to answer immediately and in the affirmative—Aron, despite his shortcomings, was a more palatable prospect than Magnus—but found herself pausing to think it through. She wasn’t simple-minded enough to believe such “wishes” would be granted. After announcing the wedding date to the citizens outside, there was absolutely no chance the king would renege on his proclamation. All agreeing with Aron would do was make her look like a fool—an ungrateful and disrespectful fool.
Cleo lowered her head and studied the dogs by the king’s feet as if too shy to meet his gaze directly. “Your majesty, I wish only to please you.”
He gave her a shallow nod, as if it was the correct response. “Then I appreciate your allowing me to make this choice on your behalf.”
Aron let out a grunt of disgust. “Oh, come on, Cleo!”
She gave him a wary look, silently cautioning him to be careful what he said. “Aron, you must see that the king knows what is right.”
“But we were meant to be together,” he whined.
“You will find another bride, Aron. But I’m afraid it can’t be me.”
Anger lit his gaze and he spun to face Prince Magnus. “It’s very important for a bride to be pure on her wedding night. Is this not so?”
Cleo’s cheeks began to flame. “Aron!”
He gestured wildly at her. “Cleo already gave her chastity to me. We’ve shared flesh. She is not pure!”
A deadly silence fell.
Cleo grappled to hold on to her self-control but felt it slipping from her grasp. Here it was, her horrible secret kept hidden from the world—tossed out like a landed fish, flopping and slimy for all to see.
Foggy memories of a party, too much wine, a spoiled princess who enjoyed forgetting herself and having fun—and then Aron, a handsome and popular lord all her friends desired, who wanted to be with her more than anyone else. Once she sobered, she realized it was a horrific mistake to sacrifice her virginity to such a vain and shallow boy.
To be viewed now as a fallen princess in a land that valued purity as a bride’s most important virtue could be her ultimate downfall. She would lose what little power she had left in the palace.
Only one choice could help her salvage this situation.
“Oh, Aron,” she said as drily as she could manage. “I almost feel sorry for you that you must lie to such extremes today. Can’t you simply accept defeat gracefully?”
His eyes widened so much that she could see the whites all around his irises. “Lie? It’s not a lie! You wanted me as I wanted you! You must admit that this is the truth and be grateful that I even still want you!”
King Gaius leaned back in the throne and regarded them, his fingers templed. “Seems that we have a disagreement here. The truth is very important to me, the most important thing of all. Lies are intolerable. Princess, are you saying that this boy would lie about something so important?”