Page 65 of The King's Queen

I swallow thickly. “No, Father. I do not.”

Ophelus tilts his head to the side curiously. The crown doesn’t shift once, even as he stands and steps forward. At this point, I would not be surprised if it has sunken into his skull. I’ve never seen him without it.

“Come.” He motions for me to walk beside him. “We must talk.”

I oblige the monarch, daring to step closer to him than I have in a while. He nods in satisfaction, and we walk over to a window. Above the window is a tapestry depicting the birth on light. We both bow our heads in reverence.

“Love is a fickle thing. It longs and leaves without warning. There comes a time when tough choices have to be made. The line must be drawn in the sand. You must decide how far you are willing to go for them.”

“If this is about my marriage, Father, I am making an effort.” I protest but lower my voice when he turns on me. His face is almost sorrowful, with his brows furrowing further and his lips forming a thin line. He places a weathered hand upon my shoulder.

“Blaine has challenged Lucius to a duel for your hand.”

With those few words, I feel the world fall out from beneath my feet. Impossible. It should be an impossible idea. Unless…

“How is that possible?” I speak slowly to keep my voice even. “Blaine is only Captain of the Guard, and Lucius is heir to the throne of two kingdoms through this marriage. Law decrees that only one of equal status to the betrothed may challenge him to a duel.”

“Unless given specific permission by the king,” Ophelus finishes the bit of law I had forgotten to mention. “I saw no harm in it. Our alliance with Tesslari states that if the betrothal falls through due to cultural influence or customs, the marriage can be canceled without threat to the alliance. This way, Captain Koar can redeem himself after hisaccident.”

Fury rises with the bile in my throat when my father mentions and slights Blaine’s leg. How dare he consider death the better alternative to an honorable man living with a limp? He speaks like he is broken or damaged due to the injuries he suffered in the war, defending this kingdom. Defending my father… and defending me.

Ophelus notices my disgust and frowns.

“I thought you’d be more pleased. You could potentially not have to marry a stranger after all.”

And potentially lose my best friend in the process.

If Blaine wins, Lucius dies. The thought does not quite sit well with me. Truth be told, I was once attracted to Lucius and his pretty words and am beginning to consider him my friend. Despite my abhorrence for arranged marriages, particularly my own, the image of him lying dead in the dust sends chills down my spine and sends gooseflesh skittering across my skin.

But if Lucius wins, Blaine dies.

I nearly double over at the thought. I thought he had died when he left. I am just starting to get him back, territorial bullshit and all, and I can’t lose him. I won’t lose him. If the fight turns south, I will protect him, even if it means interfering and killing Lucius myself.

Either way, I marry a man I did not choose. Two people will die at the dual, the only certain death being mine. My life dies the moment one of them slips a ring onto my finger. Yes, Blaine would be preferred over Lucius, considering our history and friendship, neither of them is the king I imagine at my side. If Rowan and I had met in another life, I would have made him my king, but simple dreams are all the comfort royalty can afford.

“Why are you telling me this?”

I hadn’t intended for the question to be hard to answer. Father looks at me with his mouth open as if preparing to answer, then he softens his features and closes his lips.

“Why? Why…” he asks the question not with aggression, but more of a wistful sadness to himself. “Because I hold no affection for you. I look at you, and all I feel is guilt.”

This declaration shouldn’t hurt. I have known for a long time now that there was no one who loved me. My father is distant. Irene was cruel. I expect nothing from him anymore under the conditions that I cannot be hurt by them anymore.

And yet, to hear him say it. To hear him say he never even held the slightest bit of love for me in his heart, his daughter. The wickedest blade I’ve ever known is love, and it rams through my ribs into my still bleeding heart. If I pull it out now, I will bleed to death, but it is no use. My death saw me long ago.

The sweet tang of blood coats my mouth. I’ve bitten off part of my cheek.

Ophelus continues with no regard to my affliction. “I have done many things I should regret and know I will do many more that I won’t. This is all I can offer you.”

He stops speaking to stare out the window. I wait a moment before I realize he won’t be continuing this conversation. Plastering a saccharine smile on my face, I curtsy and bend deep at the waist.

“Don’t worry, father, I understand. For I, too, will do many things I won’t regret.” Without waiting for him to dismiss me, I stalk towards the double doors. My footsteps click against the cold tile, a deep, howling of wind filling my ears until I feel as if I’m suffocating.

Torin and Tanja’s faces are pale as I exit. Someone must have told them.

“Take me to see him,” I snap hotly. Tanja flinches and bows her head.

“We can’t do that, Mai Reinhavich.”

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