Page 1 of The King's Fake Bride

CHAPTER 1

XANDER

“You’re going to run this monarchy into the ground!” Jorge slams his hand down on the table as he stands, gray hair slicked back and dark brown eyes blazing as he glares at me.

Atticus sighs, nodding to the chair. “Sit down, Jorge. This may be bad, but there’s no need for dramatics. I’m sure we can find a way to handle this without the show.”

Jorge gestures to me, standing up taller. “He’s been king for four months now, and not a single one of the people he rules over has faith in his ability to lead.”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” I say, trying not to let the insult get to me. It’s better if it rolls off my back. Allowing it to jade me would only give Jorge more power.

As it stands right now, he’s already overstepping the bounds as my advisor, but I need him.

At least until I know what I’m doing, but I don’t know if that day is ever going to come.

All of this was easier for my brother. Yorgos was raised as the heir of Katastinia. We always knew that he was going to wear the crown, so he was the brother who sat through the political lessons and learned how to win over the hearts of the public.

Now that the crown is mine, the public doesn’t seem likely to accept me anytime soon.

“Public perception is low, and falling.” Atticus leans closer to me, shoving a report of the latest poll in my direction. “You may be their king, but right now it looks like you’re never going to escape the playboy reputation you created.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that I would be taking over the throne?” I pick up the paper, eyes widening when I see my approval rating has fallen seven points from last month.

I was the spare son. The one born just in case something happened to my brother. Nobody ever expected me to take the throne.

Even my being in this room now, surrounded by all the portraits of those who came before me, is an anomaly.

Jorge’s chair squeaks against the floor as he sits back down. “I told you that people don’t think you’re responsible enough to rule over them. They think you’re too young and too immature, which means that we need to start thinking of how to change that.”

I shove the poll away, looking to my other advisors. Without a word, they dump several magazines on the marble table, the glossy pages shining as they skate across the surface.

Each one features a picture of me and a different woman on the cover.

Though not one of the magazines is from the last four months, it seems that erasing my past is going to be harder than I imagined.

And then they drop down the more recent magazines. The ones with headlines proclaiming that I will never be able to live up to Yorgos’s legacy.

According to the media, the country is doomed.

Atticus drags a hand down his face, his fingers raking through the stubble on his chin. “This is a nightmare. If I had known that you had made this much of a mess, I never would’ve agreed to be on this council.”

Jorge snorts. “We’ve been trying to corral the two of you for years, and it’s only now that you’re noticing the problems you’ve caused? This has been a decade in the making.”

“Well, I didn’t expect both my father and my brother to die within the last five years.” My tone is sharp, cutting him down where he sits, sending him slumping back in his seat.

“We know that,” Jorge says, “but you should have been trained to be the heir years ago. You may have the knowledge to do the job, but you didn’t curate your public image like Yorgos did.” He nods to the others to gather the magazines and take them out of the room, leaving only the two of us and Atticus in the room.

Atticus drums his fingers on the table, looking out the window to the festival happening in the town at the bottom of the hill. Though there is little to be seen from here, the sound of the lively music carries up the hill and in through the open windows.

He taps along with the beat as he looks at me. “I think you need to find a wife.”

The ground disappears from beneath me and I’m caught in a free fall, not sure where I’m going to land or if there’s going to be a ledge to save myself on before I hit the jagged rocks at the bottom.

Getting married is the last thing I want to do right now.

The room feels a thousand degrees warmer as I unbutton the top button on my shirt, needing the space to breathe.

“I’m not going to get married, and if that’s the best idea you have, then I’m scared for the future of the country. What happens when there’s actually a crisis?” I force out a stiff chuckle, getting up and pacing to the window with my hands clasped behind my back.

---