Page 36 of Rise of a Fallen Man

“I didn’t say we were close.” The muscles in his jaw moved before he schooled his expression back into a polite semi-smile. “Though, the king consort certainly is a man worth the admiration of many.”

“Many? But not yours?”

“Mine too, of course,” he said quickly.

The prince lied. I could swear on everything I owned that Prince Leafar didn’t have a great relationship with his stepfather, despite pretending otherwise, probably for as long as he knew him.

I slowed my steps, then stopped completely, because he seemed to be barely dragging his feet along as our conversation progressed.

“What is waiting for you back in Olakrez if you return?” I asked.

He ran his free hand up the front buttons of his suit coat, then tagged at its stiff collar.

“Disappointment, Your Highness,” he blew out the words with a quick breath. “The queen’s disappointment is the only thing that awaits me if I fail to secure your favor.”

“It wouldn’t be fair on her part. There are currently three candidates for my hand. No matter what, two will have to return to their homeland unwed.”

“Her Majesty made it very clear, however, that I couldn’t be one of the two returning. She made plans and put hopes in me, and she hates changing her plans or having her hopes crushed.”

“But what areyourhopes and plans? What future doyouwish for yourself?”

“Me?” He looked at me as if I asked him if he could breathe fire. “A prince’s duty is to serve the crown. That is the only fate I have.”

I could argue with that. I could tell him he was a person before being a prince. A person should have feelings and aspirations of his own. But his words resonated with me in the way I didn’t expect.

I too had a duty to my country. I’d been searching for something in common with Leafar when it was right there in front of me all along. The thing that could bind us was solid and real—our duty.

The prince stared at the path in front of him. His long pale fingers fidgeted with the same jacket button that he hadn’t torn off yet only by a miracle.

“I was seven when my father was executed,” he said in a hollow voice. “I saw his severed head roll down the scaffold. Mother made me watch so I would remember what fate awaited a traitor. She said I could never forget it, and I didn’t.”

Compassion squeezed my chest. All of us seemed to wear some kind of mask. Leafar hid behind the mask of a golden prince, the youngest, cherished son of a powerful queen. He wore it well. But I was grateful to him for letting me peek behind it.

“I’m so sorry, Leafar.”

He spun to face me. I dropped my hand from the bent of his arm, but he caught it and squeezed my fingers in his.

“I would make the most loyal husband that Your Highness could ever have. I would follow the path of marriage dutifully because I know the price of a misstep.”

“Fear is not a good reason to get married, my prince.”

“But what reason could be better?” He shook his head. “Fear is one of the strongest emotions and one of the best motivations to do the right thing.”

“To do right by whom?”

“By your spouse, your country, and the crown. For those born into royalty, the right thing to do is our duty.” He squeezed my fingers lightly, emphasizing each word.

These might be the words taught to him since the day he was born, but the conviction behind them was his own. The prince genuinely seemed to believe in what he was saying. His eyes shone with passion, and his voice rang strong.

“Duty,” I echoed.

Duty was the sort of prison with no honorable way of leaving it, no matter how much time had been served.

Well, I finally had to do my duty as well.

“Prince Leafar,” I looked up, finding his eyes. “I will announce my choice at the ball tonight. But I wish to ask you in private first. Will you do me the honor to be my husband?”

He swayed with a soft gasp, making me fear he might pass out. But he was of royal blood, after all. He was taught to ignore his feelings in favor of acting in the way expected from him. And right now, he was expected to accept my proposal in the most dignified way, no matter how thrilled or relieved he might feel.

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