Page 24 of The Crownless Prince

“Ri…” Jairus sat on the bed next to her. “It’s bad luck to—”

“I don’t care.” There was no force behind the words. Only the numbness that had settled into her after days of weeping.

He fell silent for a moment. “I don’t say this to be harsh or disregard your sorrow and loss, sister. Marcus is gone, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life with Lucien. Is this truly how you want your relationship to start? With disrespect by wearing an unlucky color of mourning to your first meeting? Will you tell him why and bring your past love into your marriage like a specter? Or do you perhaps think this will cause him to retract his offer of marriage? Because it won’t, Ri. You stand a higher chance of ending up with a husband who dislikes you than of having no husband.”

“And how can you stand by and be all right with that?” Adriana shoved to her feet, her back to her brother to hide the tears welling along her eyelids. Maybe she wasn’t completely numb. “How can—”

“I’ve tried to talk to Father,” Jairus said quietly. “I’m not all right with it, but there’s nothing I can do. I’ve even tried to convince him to arrange a marriage for me instead, but he says there’s no reason to take the time to search for a fitting, wealthy young lady and come to an agreement when he has a wealthy and willing lord at the ready. He’s forbidden me to broach the subject again.”

“Thank you for trying,” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around her middle, resignation a yawning chasm in her very soul.

Soft footsteps whispered across the rug, then a hand rested on her shoulder. “Lord Thorne’s entourage has been spotted. He’ll arrive soon. Please change quickly and come down to the hall to greet your bridegroom.”

“You came so Father wouldn’t, didn’t you?”

In response, her brother only squeezed her shoulder.

Once, Father had been kind, doting even. Strict when necessary, but always loving. While she didn’t truly doubt her father’s love now, he had changed over the war—and since he’d received some secret prophecy from that fae woman. The fighting and utter annihilation of the other princes’ families had hardened him, leaving a darkness in his eyes and a shadow over his heart. The fae’s blessing had made him cocky. At the same time, the knowledge such powerful magic might have a steep price in the distant future also made him paranoid.

He ruled Aedyllan unchallenged, but at a cost to his coffers, his military, and his soul. Lord Lucien Thorne, Father had told her, had been a valiant and unstoppable force on the battlefield, and he had something the royal treasury needed—money.

Kings had to make cold calculations, he said. If that meant murdering the man his daughter loved because he was the sole remaining heir of his rivals, so be it. If it meant marrying off his only daughter against her wishes because the groom had offered a large bride-price, so be it. A woman’s heart had no role to play in the games of kings.

“Please, Ri,” Jairus whispered. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded. “All right.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her temple, and his long, wavy blond hair brushed against her cheek. “I’ll see you downstairs shortly.”

After changing into a more appropriate, bright-green gown, Adriana wrapped herself in a white cloak lined with white rabbit fur and donned a silver circlet, then headed downstairs. Father looked up as she entered the great hall, the crease between his eyebrows beneath his gold crown easing.

“Adriana, good.” Father waved her over to stand at his left side on the dais, where he stood in front of his throne.

She didn’t acknowledge him as she took her place, still unable to speak to him after what he’d done.

Jairus sent her an encouraging smile, but she didn’t have the strength to smile back. She buried her heart, locking up her emotions deep down so she wouldn’t break when she met the man she was to marry, and he wasn’t Marcus.

Knights and servants lined the walls of the great hall. Every candle in the wall sconces, two massive iron chandeliers, and the candlesticks on the two long rows of tables were lit. Fires blazed in the gigantic fireplace at the far end of the hall next to the main entrance and in the smaller fireplace to the side of the dais. She didn’t need her cloak with all that heat, but the stairwells and halls held a chill. The ostentation almost made her roll her eyes. What was the point of putting on this show when the entire reason for this marriage was that the king needed to refill his treasury?

At last, the great door swung open. The herald entered and announced Lord Lucien Thorne, then withdrew to join the other watching servants.

A man strode in, snow melting on his clothing. An assortment of retainers followed him in and respectfully shuffled off to the side as the door was drawn closed behind them. Adriana focused on the man, her betrothed.

He was tall, perhaps only slightly taller than average, but with a ground-eating stride and a muscular build that made him feel larger.The top of his brown hair was done in an intricate multitude of braids that put Father’s and Jairus’s to shame. For a warrior who had distinguished himself on the battlefield, he had a surprisingly pale face—shaven, smooth, and unblemished. The sword at his side stuck out from beneath his black, fur-trimmed cloak, and intricate embroidery decorated the bright-blue overtunic that fell to his ankles.

Lucien stopped a pace or so before the dais and swept into a bow, flourishing his cloak. A silver hair stick with a curved end glinted at the back of his head where his braids were tied together. “Greetings, Your Majesty. Your Highnesses.”

“Welcome, Lord Thorne,” Father intoned.

Lucien straightened, his piercing blue eyes finding Adriana’s rather than her father’s as he said, “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’m honored to be welcomed into your home and your family.” He gave another, smaller bow. “Greetings, princess.”

Somehow, she found her voice. “Welcome, my lord. I’m pleased to finally meet my betrothed.” Did she sound as brittle and empty to everyone else as she did to herself? She forced a smile, hoping that would help. She couldn’t withstand one of Father’s lectures today. “I hope you will rest well tonight, as I look forward to speaking with you tomorrow.”

While this was their official introduction, Father had scheduled her to spend most of the next day with her betrothed. She wasnotlooking forward to it.

At least Lucien was only around six years older than her and handsome enough. He appeared polite. But the thought of marrying himstill made her want to retch. She shoved that feeling down as she held her fragile smile in place.

“Thank you, my lady.” Lucien smiled, and she likely imagined it due to her negative mood, but there was something unsettling about that smile. Something predatory and almost mocking. “I look forward to getting to know you as well.”

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