Virgin Bride(173)

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I just did something,” I said, pouring another drink.

“Come on, Trip, it’s late.”

“I guess you haven’t seen the news. There was another shooting in Stehen.”

“Oh no,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry, Trip.”

“The democrats, they’re getting bolder. They managed to escape my forces in the south somehow. We still don’t know how, exactly. I suspect locals are helping them.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Nothing,” I said simply, crossing the room. I looked out the window at the moon-bathed rolling fields and felt empty.

“What choice did you make?” she asked.

“I imposed a curfew in Stehen, and I sent in my Secret Police. Just one group of them, but still.”

“Secret Police?” she asked. “Is that bad?”

“In some ways,” I said. “They’re going to crack down on the city and impose the curfew. They’ll also hunt any rebels in the area. The Secret Police can be . . . brutal, Bryce.”

“Tell them to be less brutal,” she said.

“That’s not how it works. I need total control of this. I need to act, and act now. We’re losing.”

She frowned at that. “But it sounds like you’re doing something bad to your own city.”

“In some ways, yeah, I am. I’m taking away their freedoms in exchange for their safety.”

“Trip,” she said, coming toward me, “is that a good idea?”

“I don’t know,” I said frankly.

“You’re their king. You’re responsible for them.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I said more harshly than I wanted to. I sipped my drink, taking a deep breath. “I’m doing this for them. I’d rather they hate me than be dead.”

She put her hand on my arm, and I felt a thrill run down my spine. “Maybe you’re saving them, but at what cost? If you make them want the rebels to win, you could be hurting them more than you realize.”

“I considered that,” I said.

“But you’re also taking away their freedom. Isn’t that something you hate about the democrats?”

“Yes,” I said, “but I’m not like them. I’m not some violent tyrant, despite what you Americans might think.”

“I don’t think that,” she said, a bit taken aback. She moved her hand from my arm.

I wished she’d put it back, but I realized the moment was dead and gone.

Dead, like all those people at that concert, people who just wanted to enjoy a night out but instead got killed. All for what, for politics?

“No,” I said. “I made the right decision. I need to crush these bastards, and soon. I can’t let them keep killing my people and sowing fear in their hearts.”

“I understand, but I don’t want you to make a decision that will hurt your people, or yourself.”

“I’d never hurt my people,” I said simply, and then I threw back my drink. “I should go.”

“Wait, Trip.”

“Good night, Bryce. Sorry to disturb you.”

I quickly strode out of the room and shut the door behind me.

I didn’t feel better. I shouldn’t have gotten upset with her like that, but what did she understand? It was easy for her, an American, a foreigner, to criticize. It was easy for her to talk big about her American idealism.

But we weren’t Americans. We were Starklandians, and we were different from them. We had our own ways of doing things.

I didn’t like the Secret Police, but they were effective. Right now, I needed something brutally efficient and effective.

No more being the kind king. I was going to be hard, because that was how I was going to put an end to this conflict.

I wandered the mansion for the rest of the night, my mind far, far away.





25





Bryce





Of course I opened my stupid mouth. I knew that man was stubborn as hell, and I knew he wouldn’t be happy if I pushed him right away. I couldn’t help myself, though. I just had to say something.

In my defense, I was sleepy. He woke me up from a dream about his body pressed against mine, and I found that I was completely wet already. It was more than a little crazy to see him standing at my door after that. He looked so tired and stressed; I couldn’t help but let him inside.

Plus, I had hoped he wanted to do more than talking. I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I wanted a piece of the king that night. I had been more than a little thrown when it seemed like he wanted to discuss politics instead.

The poor man. He had the weight of the country on his shoulders, with a civil war raging and his civilians dying. I wanted to help him, bring him some comfort, but I didn’t know enough about the situation to say the right thing. I was a stranger in these lands.