Page 54 of Coronation
Once the obligatory“thank you for coming”and“good to meet you”greetings have been completed, the three women take the seats across the table from my team, and Thomas clears his throat. “And may I introduce His Royal Highness, King Benedict.”
I was the only one who remained seated as the introductions took place, a dark spectre over the proceedings. Now, as I finally drag my eyes away from Zelda to look at the women she brought with her, I can see they’re a little uneasy.
“A pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness. I’m Cindy Marks, Zelda’s agent. And this is Annabelle Hao, who handles public relations for the entire Flowers family.” Both women are older than Zelda and have the same aura of polished professionalism as my own press team.
I mutter something polite in response, too focused onstopping myself from staring at Zelda–who still has not looked at me even once–to pay attention to anything or anyone else.
“We’ll cut to the chase,” Thomas begins awkwardly once everyone has settled down, an air of grim anticipation descending over both parties. “It is our understanding that His Majesty and Miss Flowers were briefly engaged in a physical relationship, which has since been terminated. Is that correct?” He looks between Zelda and me, eyebrows raised expectantly.
I clear my throat. “Well, terminatedseems a bit too?—”
“Yes,” Zelda interrupts firmly, folding her hands on the table before her.
I can’t stand this.
Thomas bobs his head in understanding, even as a flicker of uncertainty crosses his face. “Er, would you consider yourselves on amicable terms?”
Every person in the room turns to look at me, except the one I want to. Zelda lifts her chin, gazing directly at Thomas without even a hint of hesitation. “Absolutely. I’ll spare you all the details, but needless to say, there are no broken hearts here, Mr. Thomas. I have no problem being professional.”
“Yes,” I agree after a pause, shifting in my seat as the atmosphere relaxes somewhat.
There’s another moment of silence following this pronouncement, during which Thomas appears to steel himself for the indignity of his next request. “Well, as our teams have already previously discussed, the Palace Press Corps does agree it would be beneficial for both parties to continue this illusion of romantic intimacy for the time being.”
Unable to stop myself, I look over at Zelda, willing her to look at me. I’m desperate for a hint at how she feels before I give my consent to any of this. Why would she have even agreed to come? None of it makes any sense. After how I’vetreated her, I fully expected her to tell my team to shove this insane plan up their asses, mutually beneficial or not.
My pulse spikes as, at long last, she lifts her brilliant eyes to meet mine. Neither of us looks away.
“Is there a time frame for this project?” Zelda’s agent asks Thomas, making a note on the pad of paper before her.
“We believe ten weeks should be sufficient. The coronation is in eight, and our goal is to raise the profile of the event quite a bit in the weeks preceding it. This, er,strategycertainly wasn’t something we had on the agenda, but when opportunity comes knocking…” He trails off, and there is a round of obligatory laughter.
Neither Zelda nor I contribute to it, and her gaze falls back to the tabletop.
Her PR person adds, sounding enthused, “Yes, that works quite well with our timeline. The movie finishes filming in seven weeks, which could give everyone a very convenient reason to terminate the agreement. It’s clean, from a press perspective. No hard feelings to be had, just differing schedules to blame once again. When the time comes, our teams can coordinate on a set of statements that are favorable to both parties.”
Christ.I can’t do this.
The room’s other occupants jump at the loud, grinding noise of my chair’s legs being shoved back over the wood floor without warning. Everyone stares as I get to my feet, adjusting my jacket, but I don’t acknowledge any of them. I have eyes only for the young woman sitting just down the table, a miraculous spot of light amidst my least favorite place in the world.
“I would like a moment alone with Miss Flowers before we go further,” I tell them, my tone leaving no room for argument on the matter. “Zelda? Could I borrow you?” I gesture to the door.
She stares at me, and though there is no expressionon her face, I can see a battle underway behind her bright blue eyes. It’s clear she doesn’t want to be alone with me, but if we go ahead with this plan, being alone together will happen regularly. Perhaps realizing this as well, after what feels like an age, Zelda stands.
“Of course,” she murmurs, stepping out from behind the table and offering her team a reassuring smile. “We’ll be back shortly.”
No one on either side of the table says a single thing, but I feel the weight of their eyes as I cross to the door, opening it and stepping back to allow Zelda through first.
Whatever she wants from this arrangement, I will give it to her. After everything I’ve done, the least I can do is play by her rules. Before that can happen, however, I need to be sure this is what she wants.
Twenty-Three
Zelda
I’ve never been inside a palace before.
Though the value of my family home might rival the king’s, there is no denying the divide between old money and new is vast. Very vast. At home, places like this don’t exist at all. Or, if they do, they’re outfitted with newly purchased imitations of the priceless antiques that seem to occupy every corner of Ashwell Palace, the oil paintings too bright to be authentic, the ornate rugs too plush to have been walked over for generations.
The place seems endless, but Ben obviously knows where he’s going, leading the way down long corridors outfitted in glossy wood furnishings and gilded framed portraits of his ancestors on their horses or hunting dogs. Neither of us says a word until we reach a set of double doors, quite similar to any of the others I’ve seen.
