Page 128 of Forged in Cursed Flames (Crown and Crest 2)

“And why would I do that?” Algernon growls.

“Because I now own your daughter.”

“Auggy,” Camellia chastises as if surprised by his wording, but I can tell when she’s acting, and she’s playing along. She sets a hand on his arm. “Let’s not fight about this.”

He knocks her hand away, and our knights suddenly reach for their weapons, only to stop when Algernon lifts his hand.

“What kind of threat is that?” he asks coolly, drawing his shaking hand under the table.

Duke Augmirian presses his palms to the table opposite the king, his eyes glittering like a snake’s. “Camellia came to me, acting of her own free will, and took my name. She is mine to do with as I please. If I tire of her, or if she proves to be less useful than I was hoping, what’s to say she won’t have an unfortunate accident?”

Camellia gasps, performing with terrifying skill. “Augmirian.”

So, this was the princess’s plan—to manipulate her father into signing away his kingdom.

Brielle stands next to Henrik, looking horrified. Henrik steps in front of her, trying to shield her from the display.

“This is treason,” Algernon snarls. “I will remove you from your position—”

“How, exactly, will that save your daughter’s life?” Augmirian draws a seemingly stunned Camellia into his arms, petting her hair.

It looks a little ridiculous, considering she’s far taller than he is, but the situation is far too serious to find humor in it.

“Stop,” Camellia begs her husband quietly. “Don’t do this.”

He turns her roughly in his arms and laughs in her face. “Did you think I loved you?”

“Enough!” King Algernon bellows, rising from his seat so quickly the chair goes flying back.

The move startles all in attendance. Weapons slide from their sheathes, and magic is summoned. But the room is at a standstill, both sides too evenly matched.

If fighting breaks out, we’ll all be dead.

“Father,” Camellia sobs, and big, fat tears roll down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Sign the document,” Duke Augmirian commands, grasping a handful of Camellia’s hair and yanking her head back. “The terms are better between our people than they’ve ever been. You know that. You will remain king until you pass, and then I will take the kingdom. Your line will continue through your daughter. There will be a true union between our people for the first time in history.”

He jerks the princess’s hair again. Anger flashes across Camellia’s face, but she quickly disguises it with more tears.

I have no doubt he’ll pay for the move later.

The king stares at the pair, his face deep red as sweat beads across his brow. He breathes hard, his heartache nearly overtaking him.

“I have a duty to my kingdom,” he says through clenched teeth. His hands white-knuckle the edge of the table, and he begins to shake. “I cannot throw my people to the wolves because my daughter made a poor decision.”

“You won’t sign it?” Augmirian says with apparent disbelief. He grasps Camellia’s hair harder now, yanking her face down to the table. “You care for her this little?”

Camellia sobs, repeating “I’m sorry” over and over and over. I hold my breath, nearly done in by the scene even though I know it’s a ploy.

The king’s hand twitches toward the waiting quill.

“It’s an act!” Lawrence bellows. “Don’t sign it—she’s setting you up!”

“Father!” Camellia cries, fighting Augmirian so she can look at the king, her cheek smashed against the cold, smooth surface of the table. Her hair falls across her face, sticking to her tears. “Please!”

“I…can’t.” Sweat rolls down Algernon’s brow. “I can’t.”

“Father,” Lawrence says, grabbing his arm. “Sit down.”

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