*Rafe*
Waking the king in the middle of the night is never a decision to be taken lightly. Standing in the throne room, waiting for him to make his appearance in the light of day, my mind wanders back over the conversation we had the night before. I’m still not sure if I should’ve woken him or not, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the moment, and I can’t take it back now.
Kris is keeping his distance from me, standing about four feet to my right instead of the customary one foot. On his other side, Zeke is rocking back and forth, uneasy. I had a brief conversation with him this morning to let him know what went down, and I can’t blame him for being antsy. He said then that he didn’t see how there was a solution to this problem where I could declare myself the winner, and I have to agree with him.
The more I think about it, the more I know that the game is nearly over, and I am the loser. Not just me, but Ainslee as well. It’s so unfair, all of it. I knew there was a chance this was going to end badly, but I never would’ve guessed it would end like this.
Physically, I feel like I’m about to come unraveled. I run a hand through my hair and try to calm myself. Overreacting has never accomplished anything, so I need to keep my head on straight if I’m going to find a way out of this.
I remember last night quite vividly. Once I’d woken him from a deep sleep, Axel had read the letter, crumpled it up, instructed me to uncrumple it, and then read it again. Then, he’d gotten out of bed, stark naked, and stormed around his room for several minutes before saying he needed to think on this and that he’d get back to me in the morning.
He did, too. This morning, he called me into his sitting room for breakfast and told me exactly how we were going to handle King Striker’s demands. I listened, and when he was done, I told him I didn’t think we needed to be hasty, that we should give this some time, and he told me he was still the king, and if I ever wanted to be the king, I’d go along with his plan.
Now, I am contemplating how to handle all of this. While I knew Striker’s reaction was a possibility, I hadn’t expected him to go so far.
The king walks in with one minute to spare before Ainslee is supposed to appear. He greets us coldly and sinks into his throne. I manage to nod at him, but then I turn away, not wanting to look him in the eye at the moment. He’s taking the cowardly way out of this, and I want to beat some bravery into him.
Ainslee won’t be late, I know that much. As I stand there, counting the seconds until she appears in front of me, I think back over the night we shared together. Fuck, if she wasn’t gorgeous. She tasted so damn good. Her skin was silky smooth, and when I sank into her, I felt like I was home. It was more than lust, more than an infatuation. I wanted this woman. I knew that now. Not just for her body but for her mind and soul.
My mother told me a long time ago, on the day I was brought to the castle, that I needed to be careful when it came to matters of the heart. “If you are going to be a royal,” she’d warned, “you have to know that not often do we get to marry for love, son. You shall be a prince one day, maybe even a king. And I am only a countess, but I do know that we must bend to the whims of others. If we can’t bend, we might break. A broken heart hurts, but it’s better than a broken spirit.”
Ainslee enters the room, and the pain in my chest radiates throughout my entire body. She looks every bit like a princess, like a royal, like a goddess. She deserves all of the good things in the world, not to be treated like a pawn or a toy. I don’t know how to save her from any of this. I just want to hold her tight and protect her, but holding on to her too tightly might shatter both of us.
Her eyes lock on mine for a moment as she crosses the room. I want to smile and let her know that all is well, but I can’t do that in all honesty, so I look away. Perhaps I am as much a coward as King Axel.
She curtsies to the king, and I hold my breath. I have no idea how this is going to go, but if it ends with Ainslee anywhere but my side, I don’t know how I’ll go on.
* * *
*Ainslee*
My legs are shaking beneath my skirt as I enter the throne room. I’ve never seen this room before, but it’s extraordinary. The floor is an intricately tiled mosaic. Fabric decorates the walls in a soft cream color, and the drapes are gold, picking up highlights from the floor, which also contains shades of red and blue. The ceiling is decorated with gold inlay. Everything about the room screams of luxury.
And power.
Even in a room this splendid, Rafe stands out. I lock eyes with him for a moment. He doesn’t move, doesn’t smile, and I understand why. I may have only been a princess for a few days, but I understand what this title entails now. He isn’t free to do as he pleases any more than I am.
The king looks regal sitting on his throne dressed in a red suit with his hair tied back. He sits up straight, as if he’s trying to channel the man he was decades ago, before he became old. I’ve heard stories about what a striking man he was in his youth, and I can see it in his face now. He stares at me with indifference as I stop before the throne and curtsy to him.
“Princess Ainslee Bleiz.” He says my name as if he is checking to see if that’s who is appearing before him now, like he doesn’t recognize me.
I answer with a strong, “Yes, Your Majesty. Good morning.”
“Good morning,” he says his tone still lacking emotion. “I’ve called you here because I’ve received a message from your cousin, Alpha King Striker of Warfang.”
I nod. Of course, I know which cousin he’s talking about. As far as I know, he’s the only cousin I have, although, now that I think about it, that’s probably not the case. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“As you may know, my court sent word to him upon your arrival to let him know of your existence. It was our intention to use you as leverage, to let him know that we have you here, and if he so much as steps foot in our territory, you shall pay the prize.”
I take a deep breath and nod again. I had gathered that was the situation from the pieces of conversation I’d gathered at dinner. “Yes, Sir.”
“But his response is not what we were expecting. Not at all.”
I am tempted to turn my head to look at Rafe to see what this is all about, but I keep my eyes respectfully glued on the king and wait. He doesn’t want a reaction from me. He’s only dragging this out for dramatic effect.
“Your cousin has given us two choices. He says, if we want him to stand down, we must return you at once.”
I swallow the gasp that threatens to expel itself from my throat, even though I’ve suspected since I first heard about the letter that this was the case. Again, I want to look at Rafe, to see if his reaction is similar to mine or if he even cares. I can’t do that, though, so I will myself to keep my chin up and keep my eyes glued on the king.
He lets that point sit for so long, I am beginning to wonder if he’s forgotten there was an alternative choice. Is it possible he’s not even considering the second option so he’s dismissed it altogether?
After what seems like an eternity, he says, “I have given very little thought to the second option because it really isn’t viable.” He lifts his hand, twirling it around a bit before he says, “He claims he will accept us as an ally if, and only if, you ascend the throne here. If I allow you to become the next queen of Shadowglade, he will step down.”
I watch the king carefully, seeing his eyes move back and forth slightly, and I realize he actually is considering that option, despite his words.
I don’t know exactly what makes him think that Riley will be a good queen, but I know what will make me a good ruler.
Refusing to let my voice wavier, I ask, “Your Majesty, may I speak?”
His eyes shift back to my face, and for a moment he looks as if he forgot I am here. I get a sharp nod, which is surprising to me.
I see Rafe move a bit out of the corner of my eye and know that he doesn’t want me to open my mouth. I wonder if he’s already made all of the practical arguments to the king or if he is indifferent. He must think I will say something emotional and impassioned.
I want to. But I can’t.
And even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.
“Your Majesty, I am aware of the unrest among the wolf shifters, not just in my own lands but in many other villages and towns throughout the territory that used to be Longclaw. Those people are growing tired of being ruled by a species they do not understand.” The king grunts a little, not liking my opening remarks. I must adjust.
“However,” I continue, “I do understand. I’ve lived here among you, though only for a short time, but I am far more in tune with vampires than I ever was before. What the shifters want is to know they can trust you. They want to be loyal and respectful. They just don’t know how. If I were to become queen here, I believe I could help unite these lands, the territories you already rule. Then, I could work to make peace with Warfang. Sending me away does nothing. You lose leverage, and Striker could still attack. He doesn’t determine what happens inside of this castle, you do.”
My last sentence strikes a chord. The king sits up even straighter on his throne as he contemplates my words.
Finally, he nods and says, “I need more time to think on this. I will give you my decision tomorrow.”
With that, he gets up from his seat and stalks out of the room toward a side exit.
I wait until he’s gone to turn toward Rafe, hoping to see the hope I feel in my heart that we might be able to stay together written on his face.
But when he comes over to me, all I see is regret. Does he wish last night had never happened? Does he think that I should be sent away?
“Ainslee, you shouldn’t have said that,” he whispers, keeping his hands at his sides. Zeke and Kris both back away, giving us some space.
Not understanding, I search his face for some sort of clue as to why he’s upset. All I can say is, “Why not? Do you want me to go away?”
“No, of course not.” He starts to reach up to touch my face like he has so many times before, but he drops his hand before it reaches me. Taking a deep breath, he says, “I wish I could’ve spoken to you before. I want to be with you, Ainslee, more than anything.”
“Then what are you talking about, Rafe?” I feel tears stinging the corners of my eyes.
I think I may see some in his as well as he says, “The king has changed his mind about the situation entirely. He feels that this war is too important for him to hand off to anyone.”
“What?” I search my mind to make sense of what he’s saying, but I simply can’t.
“Ainslee, he’s not talking about you marrying me to become queen.” Rafe’s blue eyes narrow as he slowly shakes his head. “If he decides not to send you to Striker, and to make you queen of his lands, it will not be as my wife.”
My mouth drops open as my eyes widen in shock as I finally comprehend what he’s saying. I have no words, nothing I can say or do. I’ve just tried to convince the king to let me become the queen—but not Rafe’s queen.
If I marry a king—it will be King Axel, not my sweet Prince Rafe.
Covering my face with both hands, I watch my world crumble around me and wish none of this had ever happened. For the first time in my life, I want to be back in Beotown, starving to death, suffering to survive.
With a wet sock.