Page 123 of Settle Down, Princess

“I wish to operate like any other guild. Those who wish to do business in the industries that I control must do so under my auspices.”

“Guilds traditionally vote in their grand masters,” Arik shot back.

“Then like a king.” Few people seemed to be able to endure my prince’s stare, but Father did. Perhaps because despite the fact his ‘realm’ contained some of the worst of humanity, he knew where he was in that pile of dung.

At the top.

He’d waited his whole life for exactly this moment, I began to think, where a member of the royal house of Khean, the old king’s own blood, was forced to recognise that.

“I’ll make you king of Khean if you acknowledge my position as king of the nightlife, king of the brothels, king of the assassins, the piss pot boys—”

“I get the point, Raven,” Arik snapped. “I’ve hardly been living the life of privilege since my father’s death.” His expression darkened. “Even before then.”

But he didn’t know, not really. I wanted to warn Arik, but there was no speaking over my father, not unless I was prepared to challenge him. He was Raven until I proved I was.

“What’re you proposing?” Arik asked Father. “What plan do you have in place to bring down my brother, and how do I know you won’t do the same to me? The king is nothing but paranoid. He has tasters for his tasters and a unicorn horn ring of far better quality than mine. His guards are a particularly effective branch of soldiers, picked from the army ranks for both their skill and complete lack of morals. If it was just a matter of poisoning the bastard or sneaking into his bed at night and slitting his throat, I would’ve killed my brother long ago, simply to rid the world of his pestilent presence.”

“And I would’ve made sure you didn’t.” I expected many things from my father, but not this. He complained about Magnus more than anyone, but… “Not until I knew who was going to take King Magnus’ place. I want, no, need stability for my businesses to thrive, and I will have it. It’s what I require from you, Prince Arik. Well, that and some of my hand-picked people being granted the lands of the people you’re going to need to… remove if your pathway to the throne is to be clear.”

“What?”

I thought it was Roan saying that and went to hiss at him to be silent, only to realise it was me. Father turned and watched me blink madly, trying to process what was said.

“What legacy did you think I was leaving you, son?” His gentle tone was at complete odds with what I knew of the man who was my father. “You’ve never shown the same sort of bloodlust, the same cunning that you’d need to be Raven. I sent you to play at war with princes and you became just like all the other soldier boys. If you’re to stay by your precious prince’s side, you’ll need a title and lands, a legitimate life where everyone at court can pretend very hard that you’re not the son of a thief and whoremonger.”

“Titles for some of your people,” Arik said, adopting the tone of a fruit seller haggling at market. “Lands as well. I’ve got a list of those who need to be removed from their positions. Men who stood by when my father was assassinated. No, worse, who conspired with Magnus to kill their liege lord to ensure their lands, their influence, grew. A thief or an assassin is as good a person as any as long as I can rely on their support.”

You can’t, I wanted to shout. Never trust them. Never!

“Well, if we’re in agreement, come through.” Father walked over to the massive doors set into the side of his office that led into the meeting room. Usually this was the place where all the heads of families met, but it wasn’t the Grimes or the Rosas I saw when the doors were jerked open.

“Lord Fallspire…?”

The duke that supported Arik’s claim to the throne. The one who knew that Arik was the king’s legitimate son and Magnus was not. Ariel’s father. He stood then, several of the other grizzled border lords doing the same as we entered the room.

“Prince Arik, last true-born son of King Alfred.” The Duke announced Arik’s titles like a seneschal might courtiers newly arrived at court. “Son…” The big, bluff man opened his arms and walked forward before taking Arik in a rough hug. “The borders are undefended, and raids are already taking place. Our enemies are testing our mettle and finding us wanting, so, what’re we going to do about this?”

The other lords all let out rumbling sounds of discontent.

“What should’ve always been done,” one man with a thick beard said. “That bastard usurper has sat on the throne for far too long and look now at what’s happened. The king must die!”

Plenty of men shouted and cheered at that, as if those words weren’t treason, but then, Arik said the words I’d longed to hear.

“You’re right, of course.” He nodded as he looked at everyone here. “The king must die. How do you propose we achieve that?”

Chapter 72

Roan

Fucking noblemen. Was this what it was like to be born as one of the toffs? To simply propose putting this man or that man in power, like it wouldn’t cause untold death and destruction. Not just of King Magnus. I wouldn’t piss in the man’s eye socket if his brain caught fire. Even some of the lords who stood by as the old king was slain, it wouldn’t be just them that’d die, but their soldiers, their guards, their servants. People who had the misfortune to be in the way as the powerful clashed.

I realised then it was far too long since I’d seen my sisters and their families. I was glad Creed had struck back, rousing the wolf shifters and leading them away from their bullshit agreement with the crown, but that put my family in danger. So I thought of them as the powerful men spoke, seeing little Denny, the boy barely walking last time I saw him, or Geneva, rushing forward to give me a messy posy made up of all the flowers in my sister, Desiree’s garden. Of Desi or Verity or Hailey, all of my other sisters, fussing around in the kitchen as I sat down. Kids climbing all over my shoulders, tugging my hair, pulling out my belt knife, only for their mother to swoop in and retrieve it. I’d faced down Lanzenian or Mattenite troops, all so they didn’t have to.

“If you’re all here, you must have some sort of plan,” Arik said, staring each man down. “Now would be a good time to share the details.”

“An accident,” the Duke of Fallspire said with a slow smile, many of his cronies grinning in response. “It would be the simplest and easiest way to transfer power. None of the messiness of an assassination. The killing of kings is unsettling for people.” His gaze landed on Silas’ father. “And gives people ideas. A tragic accident would be a perfect way to rid ourselves of this king. Perhaps a loose girth strap on his saddle, resulting in him falling to his death. Or perhaps a slip in the bath.”

More chuckles from around the table.

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