Page 60 of Crowning His Innocent Assistant

Everything had stopped in the room. Everyone was listening to him. Was watching.

“Your Majesty...”

“There is no argument. If this is not clean and you are not gone in the next few moments I will see you thrown in the dungeon. Have no doubts, there is still a dungeon here. Do you think I fear to use it? I may not be the same King as my father, but I will not tolerate disrespect. You will respect my Queen. As she is to be your Queen. And it does not matter where she came from, she is above you. She always has been. You are nothing. And I could destroy you with a mere word.”

The man had gone pale, and Matteo didn’t care. He wanted the man to be fearful. For his life. For he would pay for this insult to Livia.

“Matteo,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “Stop. Please.”

“He dared insult you,” Matteo said. “At your own party. And I will have it known this will not stand.”

“And I appreciate it,” Livia said. “But these are not medieval times, and he can say whatever he wishes. Does he not have the freedom to do so?”

“No,” Matteo growled.

“He must,” she said. “Or we are no better than we were. He must have the freedom to insult me, as I have the freedom to respond or not respond as I see fit. And I choose not to respond. For I have been through much worse than a few casual insults hurled at me by a man unhappy with his life. And I will endure more scathing commentary, I’m certain. It’s true,” she said, her voice rising above all other sounds in the ballroom. “I was a maid here. I was a street urchin and one of the forest people before that. I am nothing. And I am now to be Queen. And I will not forget where I came from. I am an advocate for those who do not have a voice, for those who do not have power. This I promise. I will never forget.”

She turned to Matteo. “I beg of you. Do not take his job from him.”

“He was not able to perform it,” Matteo said. “He spilled a drink, on you, and insulted you.”

“Yes,” Livia said. “And one thing neither you nor I ever got in life was grace. You have a chance to extend it now. Please, Matteo, do it for me.”

“No. Get out. It is a wonderful thing that my wife will not forget where she came from. It is why I’m marrying her. But I will not forget from what I came from. I’m not a man to be trifled with. You can say whatever you wish, but it will be met with consequences if it is in my hearing. Out.”

He could not allow this. Livia deserved better. And there were things he could not give to her, but he could demand her respect.

And the man left. Nearly running out the ballroom door. “Resume festivities,” Matteo said.

And as if he had flipped a switch, everyone went back to talking.

Livia looked at him with round, wounded eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“I will have respect. As will you. You are my chosen bride and...”

“And what? And what, Matteo? You will exercise your position as king to be a tyrant?”

His chest pitched, heaved.

“I told you already. I do not know another place to be. I was formed by a tyrant. A master manipulator, an evil man. Did you think that I would truly be above any of those things? I am not, nor will I be. I am simply a man. And men can be made into monsters.”

Already, these things that he felt for Livia were far too intense.

“We will speak after this.”

She was frosty to him for the rest of the evening, and it put him in a foul mood. And when they arrived back at their bedchamber, she rounded on him.

“If I did not wish for him to have such consequences, why did I not get to say?”

“I am the King. Not you. And allowing that kind of disrespect is setting a bad precedent.”

“And what consequence comes of it? This is the kind of thing that signals you’re an autocrat. That demonstrates to people that you wish to control not only their daily lives but the things they think, the things they say. People will disapprove of me. I did used to be a maid. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I am the King,” he said.

“Listen to yourself. This is everything you said you did not want.”

He looked at her, realization turning over in his chest. It was true. This was what he had professed he would never be. Not simply an action, but the fact that he had been caught in his own perspective for so many hours now. Deeply convinced of his own rightness. And this was how it began.

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