Chapter 22
22
CAT
A fter the emperor’s visit, I hardly slept. Tossing and turning, I wondered if Damien made it safely back to the island. Hell, I was even worried about whether Garrick was able to slip away without being seen. I hadn’t heard from either of them, but at this ungodly time of morning, I was probably the only idiot still awake.
Maeve knocked on the door earlier than usual, and her tone was more serious than it typically was first thing in the morning. “My lady, you have a visitor in the courtyard,” she announced.
I groaned and seriously considered ignoring her, but when she knocked again, I dragged myself to the door and opened it. “Who is it?”
She grimaced and shook her head. “You’ll see once you get there, my lady.”
Curious and more than a bit apprehensive, I hurriedly dressed and followed her to the courtyard, surprised that the usually quiet space was already buzzing with people. My family, along with a large crew of servants were gathered around, all staring at something—or someone—who seemed to be making quite an entrance.
With a start, I realized it was Crown Prince Thorne. He looked every bit the royal he was, flanked by servants unloading large chests wrapped in red bows.
Jacob looked as stunned as I felt. “Hey, bro. What’s going on?” I whispered to him.
He peered over at me and his eyes widened in shock. “Arya!” he gasped. But instead of explaining what the hell was happening, it was as if a cat caught his tongue.
I looked across the way and saw Gianna wearing a bewildered expression tinged by blatant jealousy. What the hell was going on?
The instant Thorne noticed me he stepped forward, his approach almost theatrical as he addressed me with a flourish. “Lady Arya, these are your betrothal gifts,” he announced, gesturing to the servants to lift the lids.
The chests were opened one by one, revealing enough treasure to support a small kingdom. Heaping mountains of gold and jewelry made the courtyard echo with gasps and awed murmurs.
My eyes widened as I gaped at all the gold, then swung my bewildered gaze back to Thorne. I waved him closer to whisper in his ear. Thorne smirked and leaned down. “What’s going on, Your Highness? I’m not sure what betrothal gifts are, but they sound a lot like wedding gifts. And unless I’m suffering from amnesia, I don’t remember marrying anyone.”
Thorne chuckled and shook his head. “No, you haven’t married anyone, but you will. That’s what the gifts are for.”
I frowned. “From Damien?” I asked, since that’s the only person who would marry me.
Thorne shook his head again. “No. Me .”
I stumbled backward. “What? No!”
Before I could understand what was happening, Thorne leaned in and whispered, “This is by royal decree.”
Right on cue, a servant trotted over with a fancy scroll, which he handed to me with a courtly bow. I unrolled it to see the emperor’s official seal and a bunch of words that basically said, ‘Surprise! You’re engaged to the crown prince now.’
“Wow, nothing says romance like a forced engagement,” I muttered under my breath, half-amused, half-alarmed by the absurdity of it all. There I was, essentially being traded in a political game I had no interest playing. And they said chivalry was dead. I handed the scroll back to Thorne. “Look, buddy, I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m not marrying you.”
By the chorus of startled gasps that rang throughout the courtyard, you would have thought I’d just disrespected Beyonce or something.
Thorne stood there frozen for a moment, processing what I just said, when Jacob sidled up next to me. “Apologies, Your Highness, but may I please speak with my sister for a moment?”
Thorne nodded and motioned for us to go ahead.
Jacob practically dragged me to a quiet corner where we’d have more privacy, even though dozens of ears were straining to hear every word.
“What the hell?” I ripped my arm out of his grasp. “I’m still sore from the flogging, and you dragging me around certainly isn’t helping!”
“Sorry,” Jacob murmured, “but that’s a royal edict, Arya. Regardless of your personal feelings, you cannot turn it down!” he whisper-shouted.
“I don’t care if it’s from Jesus himself. I’m not marrying Thorne!” I grunted and crossed my arms over my chest.
Jacob’s head ticked back in surprise. “Jesus? Who’s that?”
I rolled my eyes. “Never mind. All I’m saying is that even the immortals can’t make me marry him.”
Jacob's brow furrowed as the seriousness of the situation settled. “This isn't just about you, Arya. It’s about the security of our family. If you openly defy the emperor like this, it will bring disaster and ruin upon us all.”
I sighed and rubbed my temples, trying to ward off the headache that was beginning to make itself known. “Look, Jacob, I get it, okay? Family, honor, duty—I’ve got the whole historical drama script memorized by now. But let’s be real for a second. You want me to marry a guy whose idea of a romantic gesture is some chests filled with gold and a royal decree from his daddy? That’s not just old-school, it’s ancient!” I didn’t want to bring up the fact that I sorta had a thing with my potential betrothed’s brother, Damien. Not to mention the sordid affair the real Arya had with Julian before I landed in Elaria.
Jacob nervously glanced around, then lowered his voice even further. “I know it sounds terrible, but perhaps you can use this to our advantage. If the emperor learns about the depleted mines, then our punishment might not be as severe because you’ll be the crown princess. He might not even punish us at all.”
“Then what? Stay married to Thorne for the rest of my life just so you guys don’t get in trouble?” I asked. “Jacob, I’m not tying myself down to a man just for the iron mines. No way.”
“But Arya—”
“Also,” I interrupted hotly, “I'm pretty sure the emperor isn’t going to let me waltz into his son’s life without keeping an eye on me. There’s a bigger game here, and we're not the ones dealing the cards.”
Jacob sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, but please , just consider it. For the family.”
As I looked at him, the weight of responsibility made me weary. For now, I could agree to this asinine plan, but that didn’t mean I was actually going to go through with a marriage. I needed to talk with Damien so we could come up with a plan. “Fine, I’ll play the game. But I'm rewriting the rules.”
A look of relief washed over Jacob’s face. “Thank you. Just... try to be careful.”
“Careful is my middle name,” I scoffed. Striding back towards the gathering, I pretended I was ready to face whatever twisted royal ballet I’d been unwillingly cast in. Thorne was waiting with an unreadable expression on his face. “So, about this royal decree…” I plastered on a fake cheerful smile. “Does it come with a manual on how to be a crown princess, or do I just wing it and hope for the best?”
Thorne narrowed his gaze, almost as if he didn’t believe my sudden change of heart. Good. He shouldn’t.
“Have no worries, Lady Arya. I’ll take very good care of you,” he cryptically replied.
His words made my stomach churn. Was Damien wrong to trust Thorne?
“Oh, I have worries. Lots and lots of them,” I quipped, my smile tightening just a tad. “Like, for instance, is there a return policy on this arrangement? What if one of us decides the other one snores too loud?”
Thorne’s lips twitched, almost as if he was fighting a smile or maybe a growl. “I assure you, Lady Arya, we have the finest soundproof chambers in the kingdom.”
“Soundproof, huh?” I arched an eyebrow. “That's either very considerate or slightly ominous. Should I be worried about what else you’re planning to soundproof?”
Gianna, who had been silent until now, suddenly chimed in, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “Oh, Arya, don't be so dramatic. It's a high honor to marry the crown prince!”
“Is it, though?” I shot back, my gaze flitting between her and Thorne. “Or is it more like being awarded a lifetime achievement award for a movie I didn't even know I was in?”
When everyone glanced at one another in confusion, I knew they had no idea what the hell I was talking about. But I knew what I was talking about, and that was all that mattered.
Thorne cleared his throat, looking somewhat amused yet perplexed by my candor. “You have quite a spirited personality.”
“Spirited, haunted, you know—tomato, tomah-to.” I shrugged, trying to keep the mood light despite the heaviness settling in my chest. “So what happens now?”
“I’m supposed to take you back to Dragon Valley to prepare for the wedding,” Thorne said. “Our carriage is waiting outside the front entrance. I’ll give you an hour to pack.”
An hour to pack. Pfft .
“That’s not going to work for me,” I said breezily, waving him off. “I need at least a week to gather my belongings.”
Thorne choked on a laugh and looked at everyone in befuddlement before settling his gaze back on me. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I need a week. Have you realized there’s one major person missing from this gathering?” I motioned to everyone standing and gawking in the courtyard.
Thorne looked around for a moment before realization dawned. “Lord Zacharia,” he murmured.
“Bingo.” I pointed at him. “I cannot leave without saying goodbye to my dear father. Filial piety, and all. I also have other things to settle before—”
“You mean Damien,” Thorne blurted.
I didn’t think he’d mention him in front of everyone. My eyes widened. “Uh…”
“No matter what plan you devise with him, Lady Arya, it won’t change a thing,” Thorne stated. “From this moment on, you’re mine.” He said it calmly, not in an aggressive way at all. But I wasn’t fooled. I’d already seen several different faces of Thorne.
I smiled up at him and batted my eyelashes, then reached for his collar and pulled him close to me. “Now, Thorne, what makes you think I belong to anyone?” I whispered, brushing my lips against his cheek and ear. “No one owns me. Not you. Not Damien. No one .”
Thorne stiffened at my touch, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he gauged my sincerity. “Charming,” he murmured, pulling back with a hint of a smirk. “But this isn't a negotiation, Lady Arya. It's a decree from the emperor himself. One you would do well to heed.”
“But nowhere in the decree does it say I have to leave right away.” I grinned and crossed my arms over my chest.
Thorne eyed me warily, his gaze assessing as he pondered my request. “A week, Lady Arya? You drive a hard bargain.” His tone was a mix of amusement and skepticism.
“I do,” I replied with a smile, maintaining my stance. “I need time to prepare, both mentally and practically. There are matters I must attend to before leaving everything behind.”
He took a deep breath, clearly contemplating the implications. “And what’s to stop you from simply vanishing in that time? You’re asking for a lot of trust on my part.”
I was. Because if there was a thunderstorm approaching, I didn’t care what Damien said, I would jump into the River Elara so fast, if you blinked, you’d miss it.
“You have my word, Thorne. Plus, I think we both know disappearing would only bring more trouble my way,” I lied, hoping to ease his concerns.
“True,” he conceded, then paused, looking me directly in the eyes. “One week, Arya. But this isn’t just about giving you time—it’s about ensuring a smooth transition. Any sign of resistance or deception, and the deal is off.”
“Understood.” I nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “One week, and I’ll be ready to proceed as promised.”
Thorne’s expression softened just a tad. “I’ll hold you to that. I’ll have the formalities prepared, and we’ll set everything in motion from there.”
“Thank you, Thorne. Really.” I gifted him with a genuine smile. “I appreciate the flexibility.”
As he nodded and turned to leave, a wave of relief crashed over me, quickly followed by building pressure. I had one week to figure out my next move. One week to change the course of my future.
The countdown had begun. Every moment counted.