Page 35 of The Rejected King
His mind turned to Emree Dutson.
She was electrifying and completely off-limits. So why had Davin pushed those limits tonight? He couldn’t let it happen again.
“It doesn’t seem like you’ve hit your stride as king yet,” Patrice said, stopping his Emree tangent.
For some reason, her assessment bugged him. Was Patrice part of the majority that believed Davin wasn’t a good king? “Why do you say that?”
She shrugged. “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself very much.”
What was there to enjoy? No matter what Davin did, the people hated him. It was a vicious cycle, but he didn’t want to discuss that with Patrice, so he settled for a more straightforward answer. “Some days are better than others, I guess.”
“I think you’ll be happier after the Promenade.”
Patrice leaned forward, picking up Emree’s book of fairy tales from the coffee table. Davin’s entire body tensed. He didn’t like Patrice touching Emree’s book. It was special. She glanced over it, seemingly uninterested, and threw it back down on the table, sending it skidding across the wood.
Patrice had never liked reading, nor did she understand Davin’s love of it. He looked down at the book, anxious to read it and see what was inside that made it Emree’s favorite.
“Patrice, if you don’t mind, it’s been a really long day, and I need to get some sleep.”
Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “Are you sure?”
Davin nodded. “Yeah, I want to go straight to bed.”
That was a lie. He wanted to go straight to chapter one of Emree’s book.
14
Davin
The next morning, Davin dragged himself out of bed. He had stayed up late reading Emree’s fairy tale book. He kept telling himself he would stop at the next chapter or the next story, but something about each tale kept him reading. Or maybe what kept him reading was the fact that he wanted to understand Emree better.
Davin’s late night would make his busy day harder. It was the first day of his one-on-one activities. Emree had selected Barrett Dunn for the cooking service project. A castle chef helped them prepare twenty meals that would be delivered to poor working-class families in New Montana. Barrett was a good choice. She was bubbly and played up the whole I’ve-never-cooked-anything-in-my-life act. The newswriters ate it up.
Later that morning, Monique Fellow accompanied Davin on a picnic in the castle gardens. Monique was the epitome of poise and elegance. That was, until they began eating. Monique’s hand went to her mouth, removing several fake teeth on one side before she placed them on her plate.
Davin glanced at Emree, his eyes wide. Rookie mistake. She was off to the side with several newswriters, biting back a smile. Her expression alone almost made it impossible for him to keep his composure. He grabbed his drink of lemonade, using the glass to cover up the smile he shouldn’t have had.
Then there was the hospital visit with Minta Pipe. She showed up in brown pants—a shocking choice considering the Council of Essentials had decided decades ago that only men should wear pants. Newswriters whispered, and eyes went wide when she walked in the room in something so blatantly against the Council’s modesty guidelines. The fact that the pants were a dingy shade of what could only be called feces-brown hadn’t helped either. Minta brought the subject up herself, insisting to Davin that she didn’t care about the Council’s rules. These pants were her favorite, and nobody could tell her what she could and could not wear.
“They used to be black,” Minta stated proudly. Davin’s eyes widened in horror. He again looked at Emree to save him, but she seemed all too pleased to be in the sanctuary of the crowd of newswriters.
Finally, Davin, Millar, and Emree stood in the castle’s front foyer, watching as the last newswriter left. Davin let out a deep breath. He was thankful the first day of one-on-one activities was over. He felt like a fraud to the newswriters. Not because he didn’t want to make food for the poor or visit children at the new hospital, but because he didn’t want to do any of it with any of the Promenade women. Everything felt forced and fake, though the newswriters had responded well to him today. Davin couldn’t help but contrast that with the times he had been genuinely himself, talking about his projects and his goals for Enderlin. The newswriters didn’t like that version of Davin. They didn’t like what was real; for whatever reason, the public of Enderlin believed whatever the newswriters wrote in their papers. What choice did he have but to keep up the façade?
But now, Davin could finally relax. The newswriters were gone, and nobody expected him to play the part of “Promenade bachelor king” until dinner that night. He excused Millar to take a break for a few hours. He wanted to talk with Emree about her fairy tale book.
“Those were some interesting dates,” Davin said, turning to her.
Emree flipped her head up from her notebook, eyeing him from the side with a smirk. “Yes, they were very romantic.”
“More like unforgettable.”
She bit back her smile. The action made her dimples deepen. “I definitely won’t forget them.”
“Miss Dutson, I’m beginning to question your judgment.”
Emree raised her shoulders. “My judgment? Why, because of the brown pants? They’re just pants. I don’t know what the big deal is.”
“And the tooth,” he reminded her.
