1. ONE #2
“We’ve come into some extra funds.” I nod to Lord Ultimb’s head.
My tone and the reminder of our freshly vacant council seats are enough to quiet any further protest. “Hire the extra hands to make it happen. A ball to celebrate the union of our empire should be open to everyone who was unified. Adjust the invites to eligible daughters and their guardians if you need to cut numbers. The rest can celebrate throughout the lands.”
“Of course,” Lord Barista says through a tight smile. “We’ll see to the adjustments and fill in the new councilors once you appoint them.”
Five men remain around the table. I prefer one councilor per territory, but clearly the workload was light enough for them to plot my death. Easy enough to rectify. “I won’t be selecting new councilors. At least not yet.”
Lord Duponte scoffs, then chokes on the sound as I turn my glare on him. “Your Majesty, forgive me for saying: the wedding will only add to the workload. We’ll need the extra hands.”
“I have every confidence the men I trust to help me run this great empire can handle a simple ceremony and manage the vacant territories. Unless you aren’t up for the job?”
Red floods his cheeks, but he bites his tongue. Wise, considering my patience is thinner than his hairline.
“Excellent. If there are no more complaints, you have work to do. See to it.”
Staefan’s quill rips clean through a page as he blinks up at me. “I’m sorry, repeat that?”
Alone in my office, I fill him in on the details of the meeting once more, along with my plan to find usable queen candidates. He sinks further into the chaise across from my desk, setting his papers down.
“I leave you alone for the afternoon…and now you’re getting married. You.”
I chuck a paperweight from my desk at Staefan’s nose, but he manages to catch it with ease the moment before it hits.
“Only to appease the masses and my council.”
“How romantic,” he replies, deadpan.
“Not all of us care to find true love and marital bliss.”
Staefan sets the paperweight down and flips me off, his hands as battle-scarred as my own.
My oldest friend and fiercest soldier, brilliant and brutal on the battlefield, is a well-trained puppy for love.
He and Tayla are the exception in a world of transactional intimacy, giving him false hope for my romantic prospects.
I’ll never understand it. Love only leads to weakness and betrayal, two things I have no intention of opening myself up to. I’m not capable of the trust necessary to do so. My circle runs small for a reason.
“I hope someone comes along to make you eat those words—” A knock at the balcony window cuts off Staefan’s retort. We’re four stories up, and only one person would be skulking around at this hour.
Staefan unlocks the window and Alexi saunters in with all the grace of a cat, his pearly complexion pink from a sunburn. He wanders over to the chaise and kicks up his boots. “Our shady friend has gone silent. All of his usual contacts have gone to ground as well.”
Another setback I don’t need right now. I lean back as far as my chair will allow without tipping, balancing on the edge. The whole empire feels like this. One push too far and everything I’ve sacrificed and worked to achieve will come toppling down.
“He did warn us his other duties would keep him preoccupied this week,” I say. “Perhaps his spies were needed elsewhere for the time being.”
“I hope he stays gone. That guy always gives me the creeps.” He feigns a shudder, but I can tell his discomfort is real and not much unsettles Alexi.
What this “friend” offers is worth the risk, though. “Creepy or not, we need him. Keep your ears open and let me know if he hasn’t surfaced by month’s end. Until then, our plans remain unchanged.”
“As you command, Your Excellence.” I bite back a smile at his two-finger salute as he heads back to the window.
“Maybe try to stick to the shade?” Staefan scolds.
He rolls his eyes, then pulls out a little silver tin. Tayla might be the only person I’ve met paler than Alexi. Her burn salve is a family recipe and the only way those two survive the summer. “Already got that lecture from your wife,” he says before climbing out.
Alexi’s never been one for formalities. He barely spoke our language when I found him seven years ago, half-frozen and covered in someone else’s blood. Now the little asshole understands every dialect, having mastered sarcasm above the rest.
I’ve always been Darius to him and that’ll never change, regardless of my position.
I survey the mass of paperwork eating up my desk and groan. I’ve been awake for over twenty hours, and the dull ache behind my eyes demands attention with each heavy pulse. I reach for my cup but find it empty.
“Let’s pick this up tomorrow.”
“Fine, but we are far from finished discussing your marriage.” Staefan blows out his candle and heads for the door with an urgency that makes my eyes roll.
The war kept him apart from Tayla for so long that I feel a small twinge of guilt for stealing even more time. Their overt affection is enough to make me nauseous, but I’m happy for them, truly.
Our new roles demand that duty be placed before personal desires, but he’s more than earned a night off to enjoy the festivities next week. Alexi will be sufficient security.
“I’m fully capable of finding a queen without your help. Enjoying the ball with Tayla is your only assignment.” Before he can protest, I hold up my hand. “We’ll be even busier afterward. Take the time, please.”
“You’re just trying to stay in her good graces.” A fond smile slips through his prior disapproval. “Thank you. Try to get some sleep for once.”
The idea of marching two floors to my bedchamber feels insurmountable. I blow out my own candles, casting the room into darkness. After engaging the door lock, I collapse on the couch and finger the dagger I keep hidden in the plush stack of pillows, ensuring its presence before I close my eyes.
A balmy breeze soothes my frayed nerves, and I try to imagine I’m camping under the stars instead of trapped between shelves of dusty tomes and expectations.