Page 23 of Take My Throne

Chapter Eight

“Have fun?” asks Lucas, as I climb into the passenger seat next to him.

“Yeah, I did.”

“What did you two talk about?”

I almost correct him, then think better of it. If he believes I was only hanging out with Archer, he’s less likely to suspect there is a conspiracy against my father.

“It was like you said, he was worried about me,” I tell him. “He wanted to know how I’d been over the weekend and if there was anything he could do to cheer me up. We ended up watching a few episodes of the latest season of Brooklyn Nine Nine and had some champagne. He called it a belated wedding toast.”

“That was nice of him.”

There doesn’t seem to be any guile behind Lucas’s words as he drives me back home.

As we pull into the garage, I see my father talking to Isabella in front of the garage while the staff loads suitcases into one of the limos.

“Ah, Ivy, Lucas. I’m glad you’re back before I leave. I would have hated to go without saying goodbye.”

My father strides towards us, arms outstretched, and I suffer an embrace.

“While I’m gone, you’ll be the man of the house,” my father continues. “This means you are the interim head of House Archaic.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the head of House Archaic?” I point out.

“My dear Ivy.” My father practically pats me on the head, his tone is beyond patronising. “I would love to leave you in charge, but I have yet to see evidence of your loyalty to your House and family. In comparison, Lucas has worked diligently for me, following my every command to the letter. Moreover, his upbringing means he has an innate understanding of what to do in any eventuality without needing to seek my approval first. At this moment in time, your husband is the best person to take care of House affairs. Perhaps when you have proven your worth, I will be able to trust you with the duties which are your birth right, but as it currently stands, you are nowhere near ready for such responsibilities. Sit back and let Lucas do the heavy lifting. Go play your guitar, get Isabella to arrange a visit from a masseur. You’re far too uptight.”

“I might just do that. Thanks, Dad.” I do my best to sound grateful, but in my mind I am puking. Anyone would be uptight in my position. “Where are you going, anyway?”

“I’m off to Italy.” He sighs dramatically. “My partners are insisting on an in person visit and it’s a good opportunity to stock up on fine Italian wine. Would you like me to bring you back anything, Ivy? Lucas?”

“Surprise me,” I say.

“I don’t need anything, Dad,” Lucas tells him. “But thanks for offering. Is there anything I need to know about while you’re gone?”

“There are a few little details that would be useful for you to know. Walk with me.”

My father leads Lucas away, out of earshot, leaving me and Isabella on our own together.

“How can you bear working for that sexist pig?” I ask.

“I have my own agenda.” Isabella shrugs. “Besides, men like him think they’re in charge, but you and I both know where the power really lies. There’s always a woman behind the throne and we’re always the ones pulling the strings.”

“Is that right?” I look at Isabella with new respect. “So how would you advise I manage my father?”

“Simple,” Isabella says. “Do exactly what he wants you to do-–for now. While you were estranged, he always talked about his perfect little girl. He had an image in his mind about his princess, a girl who loved pink and unicorns, a girl who spent hours playing with her dolls. When his spies brought back reports of a tomboy who had a major rebellious streak running through her, he didn’t want to believe it, so he continued in his fantasy of the girl he wanted you to be until the time came to bring you here. It was harder for him to keep up the picture perfect daughter with you standing right in front of him. So instead, he’s done his utmost to force you into the vision he has for you.”

“Tell me about it.” I roll my eyes.

“I get it. I really do,” Isabella says. “It’s frustrating when we’re forced into living up to someone else’s idea of who we ought to be.”

“It sounds like you have personal experience of that.”

“We’re not talking about me right now,” Isabella snaps. I make a mental note to find out more about her background later. “We’re talking about you and how you can manipulate your father into giving you more freedom. I’m not saying you have to jump to his whims permanently. Just do enough to create the illusion he has the daughter of his dreams. Once he buys into that, you’ll be surprised at what you can get away with. For example, when he asked you to shoot Claude Dauphin, you didn’t have to actually aim at him. You could have sent the shot way over his head. No one would have been hurt, but you would have demonstrated pure loyalty. Your father didn’t have to know you missed deliberately. He was expecting you to miss. You have no experience with firearms. What he wanted to see was you obeying without question. Instead, you fought him-–and make no mistake, he would have given the order for you to be stabbed. Anything less would have made him weak in the eyes of his men, and Solomon will never do anything to make himself look weak.

“But I promise you, it would have broken his heart.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” I laugh bitterly. “My father doesn’t have a heart to break.”

---