Page 30 of The Throne Seeker
She and her mother were about to sit at a table when a hand grasped her arm, startling her. The unexpected touch propelled her straight into a hard chest.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, until she saw it was Grant. “Oh, good. Just you.”
Grant flashed her a wide grin. “You’ve hurt my feelings.” He leaned in to whisper, “Though next time, I’ll be sure to stand closer.” He straightened, his attention transferring to her mother. “Would you care to join me?” He gestured to a few open seats.
Her mother accepted without a second thought. “Of course! We’d be delighted.”
Grant glanced at Rose, to see if she’d accept as graciously as her mother.
She forced a smile. “Of course,” she repeated her mother’s words, reluctantly taking his hand as they sat, Rose sitting between Grant and her mother. She threw a fleeting glance at Tristan who was already sitting at the head table, cursing her luck to be stuck next to Grant instead.
“It’s such a lovely time of year, isn’t it?” her mother remarked while pouring herself a drink. “The garden is just absolutely gorgeous, don’t you agree, Grant?”
“To be honest, I haven’t had the pleasure,” Grant said, gathering food onto his plate. He offered the dish of ham to Rose, but she shook her head.
Her mother gasped, appalled. “Oh, you must! It’s gorgeous. I’m sure Rose would be more than happy to give you a tour. She’s there so often when we’re here, I swear only the caretakers and the queen know it better.”
A hint of a smirk played on his lips. “That sounds like an excellent idea. What do you say, Rose?”
“Only if it’s something you wish to see,” she prefaced with a polite smile, making a mental note to reprimand her mother later.
“Of course it is. Your mother makes it sound irresistible,” Grant said, sipping from his goblet.
“How about tomorrow night after the feast is over?” her mother suggested, ignoring the death stare from Rose. “After all, the garden will be well lit for the festivities.”
“It’s settled, then,” Grant said.
Rose darted her eyes between them—they were both far too pleased with themselves. Gritting her teeth, she cut into her steak a little too thoroughly, scratching the plate.
Before she could even take a bite, the side entrance doors flew open to reveal the king. Instantly, everyone rose and bowed as he strode swiftly past the tables. Once he reached his chair, he signaled for them to take a seat.
“First and foremost, I want to extend a warm welcome to everyone,” King Henrik began. “This evening, we come together to honor our ancestors’ legacy and mark the start of a new succession period. It was just a few years ago when we convened in this hall for this very reason. Although it was a challenging decision to announce another succession, I am proud to introduce the first candidate nominated by the high council.” He placed his hand firmly on Tristan’s shoulder. “Prince Tristan from the House of Montague!”
The room filled with loud cheers, but Grant didn’t so much as look up, lazily taking a drink.
The king continued, “And we have three other kinsmen nominated to enter the succession as well. From the north, my nephew, Grant, also from the House of Montague!”
More claps and cheers filled the room as Grant stood beside her, his handsome grin splayed across his face as he raised his hand. His nomination came as no surprise. Grant’s parents, sitting at the far end of the table, shined with pride as they clapped loudly.
“Representing the east… Dawnton, from the House of Sansburry!” the king announced, prompting Dawnton to stand up with pride. The man she’d danced with the previous night lifted his dimpled chin as cheers grew louder. Of course he’d be nominated. The sheer wealth he could offer the crown was enough to earn anyone’s backing. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if that was the very thing the Sansburrys had used to secure the nomination.
Finally, the king announced the fourth candidate. “And representing the south… Emmett, from the House of Alterridge!”
Beth’s older brother rose, puffing out his chest in an attempt to make himself look more intimidating. He was nearly a mirror image of his sister in male form—tall, slim, and easy on the eyes.Their family had historically been rivals for the throne; however, it had been nearly fifty years since anyone from their bloodline had claimed a succession.
“A lively chap, that one,” Grant whispered to her over the cheers. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile. Once.”
It pained her to admit but she agreed. Emmett was many things, but a charmer wasn’t one of them. “Are you worried about your competition?”
Grant shook his head. “Not in the least. The only one I really have to worry about is your lover,” he drawled with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes, about to retort, but the voices and claps quieted again.
The king stayed silent as he looked over the crowd like he was… contemplating something. The crowd waited in silence. “I wish to make a fifth nomination.”
A loud rumble of surprise spread like fire throughout the grand hall. A fifth nomination? That hadn’t happened in over a decade, long before the Montague line had obtained the throne.
“Last but not least… Rosalie, from the House of Versalles!”
