Page 3 of The Heart of the King

Jazz shook her head. “That doesn’t sound like me. I have no intention of getting married.”

“Looks like it’s too late.” He pushed the paper toward her again. “Unless this is fake.”

She laid his phone on the bed and took the piece of paper from him. The type swam in front of her eyes as she tried to focus through the pain.

When they coalesced, it looked legitimate.

Her legal name.

More names than she could count for him.

A seal.

A raised stamp.

Signatures.

Could it be real?

He sank onto the end of the bed. “Looks like you’re the next queen of Auverignon.”

What had he been thinking?

Crown Prince Steven Charles David Chauncey of Auverignon had managed to get married and not remember any of it.

Six days before his coronation.

He’d never be able to get an annulment or a divorce in less than a week, even if this woman, whoever she was, agreed to fast track things now that he’d slipped up and told her she was about to be queen.

“What are you talking about?” Her voice was wary, not excited like he would have expected.

He glanced over to see her facing away from him, her long dark hair tucked inside the shirt she’d pulled over her head. “I mean, I’ll be king in a few days. Unless you know how to fast track an annulment, that makes you the queen later this week.”

What good could possibly come out of this? Except...

The pain in his head kept him from thinking completely clearly.

If he was married before the coronation, then Parliament wouldn’t have to approve his marriage. Normally, it was expected to be a rubber stamp process, but he suspected his shenanigans when he was younger would mean they’d give him a hard time about whoever he chose once he assumed the throne.

“Maybe this is best,” he muttered more to himself than the woman who’d shared his bed the night before.

“I haveno ideahow on God’s green earth this could bebettermuch lessbest,” she shot at him.

“Listen, let’s get something to eat and some pain meds and then maybe we can talk about how to proceed once we’re not quite so hung over.” He set the paperwork on the bed and scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Maybe something good can come out of it.”

“Maybe.” She didn’t sound too sure, and Charles didn’t blame her.

He’d also decided he deplored the name Charles almost as much as he hated Steven. Neither would be his regnal name, the name he chose to use as king.

And King David was out of the question. The comparisons to the Biblical hero would be many - and virtually all of them unflattering.

That left him with Chauncey, but he wasn’t thrilled with it either. Did he have to choose one of his given names? Or could he pick some other name entirely?

His phone lay on the bed where she’d dropped it. He picked it up. Tapping out a quick text to one of the men accompanying him and asking to have breakfast and medicine sent in, he stood. “I’m going to take a quick shower and get dressed. Someone will be in momentarily with breakfast and meds.”

“Uh. No.”

He looked over to see the woman staring at him. Glaring was probably a more accurate statement.

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