Page 43 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
A genuine grin pierces his mighty exterior. “Blessed Flame, no! Your mother and I think it’s best for you to wait and enjoy your unattached bachelor status for as long as you want. You already wear the Mark of the Gods, my boy. You have nothing to prove. And until you’re ready to start thinking about kids, you don’t have to commit to anyone.”
Relief washes over me. “What did you mean, then?”
He crosses the room, the sleek hardwood floorboards creaking under his shiny boots, and stops beside a tall bookcase. “I thought you might want to start shadowing me and learning the ropes of politics. We could start with negotiating your sister’s marriage contract.”
I stiffen back tenfold at the news and try to mask my reaction with an awkward stretch. “Willow is to be married? Now? Shejustgot into the academy?—”
I stop myself and press my lips together, knowing better than to ramble in my father’s presence. He’s not asking me my opinion, he’stellingme what he plans to do, and I know that expression of his well enough to know he’s determined to see this through.
He nods, his brows furrowed. “Yes, and that improved her horizons. She doesn’t have the same advantages you do. She wants to be queen, so we’ll have to arrange it for her.”
“Does she really?”
My little sister being thrust into marriage doesn’t sit well with me, but arguing against my father’s wishes will accomplish nothing other than to put him in a foul mood.
“Son, every Summers wants to rule. It’s the fire in our blood. We have trouble following orders.”
I’ve been trying to hide my discomfort, but he reads me too well. His gaze sharpens, his tone bordering on anger. “I was not askingifshe should marry. Merely for you to help me choose her husband.”
A metallic taste fills my mouth, my tongue parched and dry. “Who do you have in mind?”
“Ezekiel Nocturna.”
“What? Are you joking?” I can’t hide my anger or incredulity, my guarded face losing all semblance of reverence. “Are you so desperate to keep Beth out of school?”
His amber eyes burn, the flames within them barely contained. “Beth?”
Fuck-fuck-fuck.
“Everybody is talking about the new girl’s engagement to Zeke, and how it earned her an invitation to the trials,” I backpedal. “She’s all everyone has been talking about.”
“Yes, it was quite clever on the Shadow King’s part. He asked for Willow first, of course, but I didn’t want to agree to anything before his son was admitted into the academy. You know what the rumors were about him. Given his performance, I might have dismissed him too quickly. With your sister’s magic, he might just win his throne after all. Unless Damian marries, too, of course.”
“Damian thinks himself above such things as marriage.” The scope of my father’s plan slowly comes into focus. “So Willow gets a throne, and you get rid of the moth as a bonus.”
“Moths do not belong in ourRoyalAcademy. This sort of precedent is dangerous. I thought I had taken care of it, but she was more resourceful than I’d expected.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I caught wind of how powerful she was, I enchanted a tile to make sure she’d be in the last group. Less than ten percent of applicants entering last make it through in time, so the moth had almost no chance of success.”
I bite down on my tongue not to make a scene.
“Oh, spare me that look, son.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Are you too immature to handle the truth?”
I struggle to keep my flames under control, the heat of my emotions flaring just beneath the surface.
“You are not allowed to tell anyone about this. Or Willow’s wedding. Not until things are settled. Swear it, or by Hephaistos, I will throw you in a holding cell until you do.”
I give him an insolent bow. “I swear I won’t tell, Your Majesty,” I reply, though my mind is already racing for a way out.
A hint of magic swirls through the air to seal my promise, reassuring him that I’m not about to go rogue and rat him out to the faculty, but I can’t keep this from Beth. She has to know that our cheating in the labyrinth only nullified my father’s meddling.
As for the wedding, Willow might skin me alive for keeping the secret, but I’m not sure what good telling her would do, aside from robbing her of her last precious weeks of carefreeness.
The king sits down on one of the three sofas, crossing his leg and laying his ankle over the opposite knee. “Damian Sombra and his prick of a father are about to get a lesson in the importance of politics. That’s why we come out on top, Aidan. We don’t minimize the role of alliances. The Gods bestow power upon us, but it’s up to us to cater to that power so that it doesn’t wither and dry like a fruit on the vine.”
I sit in the armchair beside him and meet his gaze. “Can I speak plainly, Sir?”
