Page 87 of The Promised Prince
“Renna,” his call stopped her, “I hope it all works out for you guys.”
She hoped so too, but she didn’t dare say it out loud. Not yet.
31
Trev
His father’s office was empty, but the king would be there any minute. His father always stopped by his office before retiring to his room for the night. Trev walked the edges anxiously. How was he going to handle his father? What would he say to convince him that being with Renna wouldn’t ruin his chances of being elected king?
What if he couldn’t convince him? Was he prepared to go against his father? He had always been a loyal son—a loyal subject of Albion—adhering to what was right. But none of this felt right.
His fingers grazed the back of his father’s brown leather chair. Trev could smell the richness of the leather from where he stood behind his father’s desk. He’d always thought this chair would be his someday.
This mantle.
This responsibility.
Being the future king had governed his every move as far back as he could remember. He sat down in his father’s chair and tried to picture himself as the leader of Albion. The thought was overwhelming, but the rightness of it sank deep into his soul. Could loving Renna really take all of that away from him?
Trev didn’t want to see it. He refused to consider it, but in the farthest corners of his mind, his father’s words gnawed at him. He picked up a stack of papers on the desk in front of him. His thumb flipped through a few of the pages until one paper in particular stopped him.
One word.
Confidential.
Wildly, his eyes scanned the document. He couldn’t read it fast enough. Details, dates, and times of the assassination plot against King Adler were described throughout. The words pelted his mind one by one as if he was caught in a massive hailstorm. No wonder his father hadn’t fought back during the high ruler’s meeting. He was going to go ahead with the assassination without their approval.
Secretly.
“The answer is no.” King Carver breezed through the door, heading straight for the side table where his liquor was stored. “You will not marry that girl. Did you see her tonight at dinner? She can’t answer a simple question, and don’t even get me started on the spectacle she made of herself during the fireworks.”
“What’s this?” Trev held the paper up for his father to see.
His father paused, staring at the paper only for a moment before continuing to pour his drink.
“You can’t do this.” He could only hope his father could see reason. “The high rulers voted. The assassination plan was never supposed to happen.”
His father casually took a seat by the fireplace. The sound of leather squished beneath him as he sat. “I’m the king. I have the final say.”
“That’s not how this works, and you know it. You need the high rulers’ permission to take any action against a foreign nation.”
“What are they going to do, depose me? My service is over in two months anyway.”
“But Father, this is more than just an overreach of power. This is corrupt and brutal! The Council of Essentials will arrest you for instigating violence against a fellow nation. You’ll get the death sentence and I will lose the election because of my connection to you.”
“No one will find out! Tolsten will believe that their own insurgents committed the killing. And in the chaos of the power vacuum it creates, no one will have time to investigate.”
Trev waved the paper through the air. “How can you say no one will find out? You’ve left a paper trail just sitting on top of your desk. I found it within one minute of entering your office.”
The king rolled his eyes. “No one is allowed in here except you and Gaines.”
“This is suicidal, and I won’t let you do this.”
“And how are you going to stop me? I’m afraid we can’t go back on our plans now. The pieces are already in place.” His father spoke in mock disappointment.
“I’ll expose you and your plan to everyone,” Trev threatened, waving his finger accusingly at the king.
“I’ll tell everyone you knew about it too. If I go down, you go down with me.”
