| |
“I didn’t know you had it in you to be so generous,” I joked, crossing my arms against my chest. As if that action could act as a barrier between myself and the fury in my stepmother’s gaze.
“The situation might not be as amusing as you think.” Her nails flicked across the arm of her throne, a gesture I was already well versed in and knew it meant annoyance.
“It’s pretty amusing,” I assured her. “At least, Thalassar seems to think so.”
The queen rose from her throne to loom over me and shout, “How dare you float before me and joke about the mess you’ve made? Your foolery and selfishness has cost us our Draconian allies.”
I waved off her dramatics. “I’d hardly say it cost us our allies. They are still allies.” Prince Kai would hardly turn his backs on us when he was married to my cousin who loved this kingdom very much.
This whole turn of events hadn’t been what I was expecting. I’d been hoping Odalaea would take the throne and I would be forgotten. My stepmother had ruined it, and now I was stuck with the Thalassarin crown that I did not want. The only joy to be had from this was the fact that I no longer had to marry the Lizard Prince.
“You foolish child!” the queen shouted, making me flinch. “The only reason I am to give up the magic that was promised in the contract was to avoid the wrath of the Draconian Emperor. We do not need another war, and least of all with the royal dragons. Do not fool yourself into believing we are allies.”
“But, Kai—”
“Is now married and allied with Kappur, not Thalassar. We risked everything to secure this marriage alliance, and like the petulant child you are, you ruined it with your stupidity. You think other kingdoms will trust us after this? You think we won’t suffer because of what you’ve done? We need you to marry, Odele, and need you to marry well to help secure a safe future for our kingdom. Only then can you take the throne.”
My heart thumped in both anticipation and fear at her words. “The ascension—”
“There will be no ascension! Don’t you understand? If I had my doubts before, your recent actions have done nothing but solidify my decision. You are not ready for the responsibility of the throne, and therefore, you will not have it.”
Hurt spiraled through me. I didn’t want the throne, I never had, but to hear her so blatantly state that I was worthless, that I’d not have it, hurt in a way that was indescribable. I’d done everything to prove I was incapable of handling the kingdom, that I was incapable of following in my mother’s fin strokes, and yet to finally have it thrown in my face was like having her return from the grave and spit straight at my fins.
“You cannot ascend until you prove yourself worthy of your bloodline. To do this, you will do your duty. You must marry and secure us an alliance.”
Dread thrummed through me. “Surely there’s another way to secure an alliance?” I almost begged, hating myself for reducing myself to such a level. “Any other way besides marriage...”
“You daft child. Marriage is the only way to ensure loyalty from another kingdom, which we now desperately need, no thanks to you. And yet, there are no princes left, and no widowed kings in all of the seven kingdoms. You’d be forced to marry beneath you. A lord, or a duke, even.”
I cringed. “I am a princess,” I argued. “You cannot expect me to lie with a lowly lord.”
“You’ll have no other choice. There is no one left. And I’m sure everyone has seen your disastrous display at the wedding already...”
“So?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you really going to make me say it, Odele? The truth is out. Everyone knows you now, and no one wants you.”
Her words hurt as if she’d slapped me against the face with them.
No one wants you.
Could it be true? Did it even matter? They didn’t want me, and I didn’t want them, either.
“So I am to be punished,” I spat vehemently. “For wanting my freedom. It isn’t fair. Daddy—” I turned away from her to look at my father. I waited for him to get up, to defend me like King Dorian so bravely defended Odalaea.
But my father did not get up from his throne. He turned sad eyes to me and murmured, “Sorry, Odele. It is decided.”
“No! I’ll not marry a lord! You can’t make me!”
“Well, lucky for you, you won’t be marrying a lord—as if one of them would even want you, anyway. No. We have a much better prospect in mind, and thankfully, he’s already graciously asked us for your hand. So we must plan the marriage at once.”
I blinked, disbelieving her every word. “What?” I demanded. “Who?”
My stepmother glared at me, and somehow, a deep, dreadful part of me knew whose name she would say before she said it.
“Prince Ytgar Neves Isolde of Iol.”
That Iolish bastard.