Page 42 of Under the Lion Star

I hated that about Corrin. He spoke with authority and often had decent ideas to share, but the second anyone countered a single word of his, he rolled over like a submissive dog.

“Any of the women listed would make fine wives,” Lord Gamril interjected calmly. “And they would birth suitable heirs.”

What does that even mean?

I schooled my features as I locked eyes with Atlas’s father. Aside from their silver eyes, they couldn’t be more different. The thought of birthing an heir when someone was actively trying to kill me seemed abhorrent, but I supposed that Lord Gamril couldn’t have known the issues I was dealing with outside the council chambers.

As I set the list down next to the docket I had prepared for the meeting, I wondered why so much time had been spent pressuring me to take a wife. Compared to the other issues facing Fjorn, my marital status should have been the lowest priority.

We’d been gathered in this stifling room for nigh two hours and yet had only touched on the subjects of the increasing crime rate and lack of medical care in rural areas. That mattered less to the men sitting around the table before me than what woman I decided to stick my dick in.

My head tilted back to stare at the arched ceilings above us. As quietly as I could manage, I sucked in a deep breath of air, using it to reign control over the last thread of patience in front of men who were already questioning my capability as a ruler.

“I’ll look this over,” I said, my eyes flicking over each lord in the room. “Thank you for compiling this list for me. I will let you know when I have made a decision.”

“Do not take too long,” Lord Gamril cautioned. “We need you to be wed before you meet with King Doran.”

I nodded. Even if Atlas despised his father, he had been a loyal servant to my parents and a prominent figure in my childhood.

With that, I stood, the council members following my movements and then making their exit from the chambers. Lord Merhan offered me a smile, and I sent a silent prayer to the Gods that he wouldn’t try to put in a good word for his daughter, Ella. I’d heard plenty about her from Atlas after the ball.

Some of the names on the list were familiar. I took my seat and looked over it once more. With my feet propped onto the table, crossed at the ankle, I wondered how best to narrow down my choices. Maybe I should marry Ella; then, she would have Atlas to find emotional comfort in. Or perhaps that would go south when Atlas brought a different woman to his room in the castle.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the door pushed open, and Atlas stepped inside.

“Just missed your father,” I tipped my chin at the door behind him.

“Unfortunately not,” he sighed. “He asked me to dinner. I just told him that you had super important kingly tasks for me to tend to.”

“Want to pick a wife for me,” I tossed the paper across the table at him.

“If you hadn’t given me insight into this, I’d have guessed it was a list of women I’ve slept with.”

“All of them? Surely not. We haven’t even been home that long.”

“I’ve used the last month very productively,” he winked. “Oh, Lady Kersa is really funny. You’d like her. Dry sense of humor; never minces her words.”

“I feel that liking my wife would compound my issues,” I groaned. “I need a woman who understands I have nothing to offer her.”

“Gods, Leor,” Atlas shook his head. “I know you’re stressed. I know you’re busy. But you can’t find the time to pleasure your poor wife before bed? You get something out of that, too, you know?”

“It’s not that,” I frowned. “All of these women are exceptional. They deserve real happiness and could find it easily with someone who isn’t me. What happens when she’s struggling as queen and needs a shoulder to cry on? What if I can’t be there for her.”

“It’s a marriage, Leor. Give and take. It won’t ever be fifty-fifty. Sometimes, you’ll be doing twenty while she does eighty, and other times vice versa. It’s about averaging out to an equal effort.”

“And I should be taking marriage advice from you?” I raised a brow.

“I know how marriages shouldn’t be,” he scowled.

Neither of us said anything further. Lord Gamril, as helpful as he had been during my transition to power, had been a terrible husband to Atlas’s mother—a woman who took her own life upon discovering the extent of his transgressions.

“We should visit her soon,” I stood, moving toward Atlas and setting my hand on his shoulder.

My friend nodded in reply, unable to form any words. It had been years since we’d visited his mother’s memorial stone, but now that we were back in Galvord, it was more obvious how Atlas struggled without his mom in his life.

“I’m going to go sit with Orin,” Atlas pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Liras has been in there for days. Figure I should force him to spend some time doing literally anything else but hovering over his friend.”

We shared a small smile, both of us still elated that Orin was at least aware of the people around him now. I wondered how much worse my brother would be if I didn’t have my friends to help guide him back to the realm of the living. As small as my circle was, I’d always had more of a quality-over-quantity mindset. In that regard, I was a lucky man.

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