Page 24 of Bride By Coronation

Ulrich sits back and crosses his arms. "There's no point fighting about this. It has been decided."

My hand shakes under the table, and I grip my thigh. The thought of Fiona staring at me with abhorrence makes me ill.

Then another thought hits me. I blurt out, "What ceremony are you giving me?"

Evil crosses Ulrich's expression. He answers, "Unveiling of the Bride."

"No. I won't have it," I protest.

"All the members of The Underworld should be allowed to witness the nuptials. It is a great day of celebration," Ulrich claims.

My stomach twists. I mentally scan the list of rituals and then demand, "I want Knights of the Round Table."

"But that's more private," Ulrich points out.

"I'm king. I have a right to Knights of the Round Table. It's in the laws," I insist.

He takes another mouthful of brandy, then caves. "You're right. I can't stop you."

A bit of relief fills me, but I repeat, "There's no reason I can't be grandfathered in with no queen."

Ulrich opens his mouth, then shuts it.

I lean closer. "Say whatever it is you were about to say."

"I'm thinking."

I stay quiet initially, but then push, "Grandfather me in."

He motions for another brandy.

The server brings him one and he takes a large mouthful. Then he sets down his glass and stares at me.

"Grandfather me in," I beg.

His lips twist and he replies, "I'll make a deal with you."

"Go on."

"What's the only other way to avoid having a queen at your side?" he questions.

I take a minute, wondering what I've missed, then a cold chill flares down my spine. I gape at him in horror.

Excitement expands in his expression and voice. "During the Knights of the Round Table, she can tap out and stay your queen. Or she can choose not to tap out and...well..." His grin grows and he finishes with, "You can rule alone for the rest of your life."

The air in my lungs turns stale.

"What's wrong, Kirill? Isn't that what you want? To rule alone?" he asks.

"I'd have to kill her," I blurt out.

He shrugs. "It would be her choice. If she can't tap out, then that's on her, not you."

My mouth turns dry.

He leans closer and murmurs, "She'll never have to look at you again. All the fears you have of her giving you that look? Well, you'll only have to see it on your wedding night. After that, that expression will be eliminated. At least on her."

The air stifles my lungs. I hate how he knows my fears and how much enjoyment he's getting out of my discomfort.

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