Page 7 of Omission

I’ve never seen His Majesty so upset.

Princess Anaya should be grateful for his interference.

Brice is a wonderful young man. Stepping in to take care of my mateless—

Not wanting to risk another mistake, I exit the room before my grandfather finishes speaking. It hurts more coming from him. To know he thinks my abuser and future warden is a blessing.

Anaya, I do not like to be kept waiting.

Father’s voice rips through my head, and his fury isn’t veiled. The painful mental stab causes a yelp to escape me as my body titters. I’m not far from him, but I have to pause a second or two while using the wall for support. It’s one of the gifts he’s been born with, the ability to communicate with anyone or any species through a mental link he creates at will.

My apologies, Father. Just stopped to wash my hands.

Something most people don’t know about him; King Larue is a stickler for etiquette and rules. Respect, behaviors, and hygiene—the latter of which he’s a bit compulsive about.

You have three minutes.

Thank you.

Using the half bath a few doors before reaching his office, I slip inside and make quick work of washing and then drying my hands before rushing out. I’m still a bit weak after the mental attack, my head throbbing now, but I can’t afford to take a moment and relieve my pain.

Instead, I take in measured breaths with each step toward his open door, not pausing but choosing to silently walk in and stop in front of his desk. The large mahogany piece takes up a large section of this room along with the floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with books on our history and that of other species.

Minutes tick off the clock while he ignores me, reading a page from an old and very thick book. The outside is bound by weathered leather and holds the royal fae symbol at the center, his finger lazily sweeping across the tree of life within a golden circle.

I make the mistake of exhaling roughly and his head snaps up, true fury in his eyes. “I’m being very patient with you, my daughter. What you did out there was not only disrespectful to me, but to Brice as well. He is to be your husband, Anaya. You owe him a great deal of gratitude.”

“Gratitude?” The word feels wrong. Nearly makes me express my disgust, but I manage to hold myself back by digging my nails into the palms of my hands. This—the very idea of giving myself to anyone who isn’t my mate—goes against every fiber of my existence. Makes me sick, and I fight back the feeling while his aura attacks mine. It’s like the strike of a snake's sharp fangs lashing against my torso until I release a low whimper and drop to my knees. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be if you ever embarrass me again.” He’s angry, tone barely containing the ire he’s directing at me. The tethers of his magic continue to punish me as if they were the leather strap of a belt, bathing me in pain without a single welt being left behind. “You will do as you’re fucking told. Is that clear?”

Why do you hate me?

Not that I look up from my position; I keep my eyes down while another set of feet stop next to me. They’re big and covered by a pair of black boots that belong to our military’s uniform. Then, there’s the scent of sardines that comes from him. It’s unpleasant and something I loathe, but at the least, Father has stopped punishing me.

Why is he here? What are they—

The clearing of a throat snaps me back into focus, two people now standing over me. My father and Brice. Both hovering, their stares unnerve me, but I remember what they’re waiting for.

“Yes, Father.”

“Good.” A heavy hand pats my head, the cool, thick band of a gold ring slightly knocking my scalp. “And you will never bring up this foolishness again. Right, Anaya?”

“Please, my king. Please hear me out.”

The fingers atop my head grip my hair and yank my head back, forcing my eyes to his. My father glares while tears gather in mine from the sting. “I will be benevolent and give you this one chance to speak your piece. You have two minutes.”

“Please don’t make me marry someone who’s not my mate.”

“He is dead, Anaya. You know this; I told you he must’ve passed away from sickness or while serving in my army. So many casualties have befallen us over the last century.”

Over a war he started. But I don’t say this out loud, choosing to exhale slowly. “My heart hasn’t healed. I feel lost and empty, need—”

“She can be given some time, my king,” Brice interjects, cutting me off while my father forces my head in the guard's direction. To anyone else, he’d come off as understanding, but this isn’t a man who does anything without gaining something in return. “I’ll grant my darling princess this concession, but it will come with a steep condition.”

No one says anything for a few minutes after that, yet I’m still forced to meet Brice’s eyes. Eyes that taunt me, their natural color growing darker as he enjoys the view of me on my knees and helpless. They roam over my figure, lingering a bit longer on the exposed cleavage of my old-fashioned dress before tilting his head to the side.

And father lets him as if I’m owned already.

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