Chapter 15 #2
"I'm afraid it will have to be much grander than that," Thrane interrupts, there's mischief in his grey eyes, as if he's got a delicious secret and is vacillating if he'll share it with us. "And far more important."
Ronan laughs at the far end of the table. He tosses a small cube of cheese into his mouth and shakes his head.
"Is something amusing, Ronan?" Thrane's eyes slice to meet his.
Ronan doesn't bother looking up from his snack.
"This is never going to work." When a few grumbles make their way around the room, Ronan raises a hand in surrender.
"Listen, I'm in complete agreement with you, Thrane.
It has to be an event important enough to draw them out.
Hell, my father hasn't left these shores to accept an invitation in years.
I'm sent in his stead. So apart from a royal wedding or death of another ruler, I doubt any of them will show up. "
Thrane's face lights up. He exchanges an odd look with Soren and then it hits me.
Thrane was two steps ahead of everyone. He knew someone would argue with him and mention the two reasons all other rulers would gather in one place.
He steered the conversation and allowed someone else to bring forth an idea he could readily back without appearing to be the puppeteer.
The room goes completely silent until Ronan stares at each of us one-by-one.
He frowns. "Why is everyone staring at me like that?" When his eyes meet mine, I can't hide my grimace. Clarity strikes him like lightning and his eyes widen in horror. "No," he shakes his head. "Wait a second –"
"Son," Soren interrupts with a firm voice that chills me. "Now is as good a time as any to take a wife."
And it's like the air is sucked out of the room, tension welcoming itself inside like a dry desert breeze.
"You gave me a year! One year!" Ronan slams his hand on the table, rattling the glassware. "This wasn't our deal."
"There was no deal, Ronan. It is your duty to –"
Ronan turns to Thrane, rage radiating from him. "Why don't you get married? You're a single, newly crowned king."
In typical Thrane behavior, he's unmoved by the fear and anger pointed his direction. He folds his hands in his lap and sighs. "No one would believe I would take a wife. And much stranger to take a wife and have a wedding in Tronovia. I'm afraid you are the more believable choice."
Like a cornered animal, Ronan shakes his head, tears welling in his bloodshot eyes. "I won't do it," he growls.
"As the heir to the throne, you are required to take a wife and sire heirs," Soren double-downs. "We both know by this time next year you will be doing the same thing you're doing now. Partying at Prue's and avoiding adult responsibilities."
"I'm glad your opinion of me is so decorated," Ronan shrinks in his seat, defeat written across his features.
Soren places a hand on Ronan's shoulder and squeezes. "I know you have traveled a lot in my stead recently and I appreciate you doing so. But now is the time to take a wife and bring all the other rulers together."
Ronan shrugs his father from him. "Instead of being honest with them about what's to come, you'll offer me up as a sacrificial lamb?"
"Does this have to be a real wedding?" My question relieves Ronan of unrelenting stares.
"Perhaps we invite them to a wedding and then it conveniently falls apart?
" It sounds ridiculous the moment the words leave my lips, but for Ronan, I will try to help anyway I can.
Although, I'm fighting a losing battle. Soren has been itching for Ronan to take a wife and there's no better opportunity than this.
"Her idea." Ronan points at me for emphasis, clutching at it like a lifeline. "Let's go with her idea."
Soren's stoney expression softens for a moment, as if he's contemplating Ronan's pleading for mercy. But determination seeps into his eyes and he straightens. He's decided and it's not looking good for Ronan. "Fate has spoken. It's a sign. Now is the time, Ronan."
In one last act of desperation, Ronan motions toward me and Atlas. "Have Atlas and Shaye get married. She's a princess and he's of royal blood. They're already engaged –"
"Ronan."
With just his name uttered, the room stills. I haven't heard such a forceful tone from Soren before. He clearly means business and is seizing this opportunity to advance Ronan's marital status.
Soren rises from his seat. The rest of us hop up as is customary.
This meeting is over, a decision made, a plan in place.
The king glances across the table and meets Thrane's awaiting gaze.
"I will have royal invitations dispatched by the end of this week.
A Winter Solstice wedding. That should draw them all out. "
He looks down at Ronan who is the only one who didn't rise. Ronan looks positively sick and I can't blame him. My stomach is in knots for him. Soren once again presses his hand to his son's shoulder, this time though, he doesn't flick him off.
"Right now, you can be angry," Soren says softly.
"Tomorrow, our search for your future wife begins.
Being a Delaney is not easy." When Ronan doesn't acknowledge him, a flash of sorrow streaks across the king's face.
He retrieves his hand. "We all have our duty to the crown, to our people. This is yours."
With those final words, Soren and his team of personal guards leave.
Words fail to come to mind in how I can possibly comfort Ronan.
I look up at Atlas but don't see the pity I hold for his cousin reflected in his face.
My eyes dart to Nyx and his head hangs. Sure, we all knew this day would come, but Ronan thought he had more time.
He's been blindsided and I'm afraid he's going to connect the dots and blame Thrane for his sentence.
As if my thoughts alone trigger Ronan, he whips his neck in Thrane's direction. Fury. Fear. Confusion. He's an emotional storm and I'm afraid he's about to lash out.
"Ronan," I don't get another word in because the prince snaps.
He erupts from his chair, knocking it over, and points an accusatory finger at my cousin. "This is all your fault! Had you not mentioned a wedding – "
"My dear, Ronan, I never mentioned a wedding," Thrane clasps his hands behinds his back. "You did."
Ronan's mouth drops open. I can see he's replaying the meeting in his mind and when he realizes Thrane's right, fire ignites in his hands and sprints up his arms.
Holy shit. Is he about to attack Thrane?
"Rone!" Nyx shouts. Ronan stares at him and the pain in his brown eyes cleaves me in two. "Don't do it."
His chest rises and falls rapidly, his mind spiraling. He swallows hard and extinguishes the flames licking up his arms. Denying Thrane a second glance, Ronan storms out of the room and slams the door behind him.
I shoot Nyx a concerned look. Ronan is normally pretty calm and in control of his fire magic, but I'm afraid this might send him over the edge, and he might be a danger to himself or others. Hell, at this rate, he could burn half of Starnborough down.
"I'm on it." Nyx is quick on Ronan's heels. If anyone can calm the crown prince down, it's him.
Atlas drapes his arms across my shoulders and pulls me to his chest. I wrap my arms around his torso, but my eyes are fixed on Thrane as he exchanges words with my mother and Kamari.
It's frightening how conniving and calculating he can be and not lose sleep over manipulating situations or lives to suit his agenda.
Part of me questions if I can fully trust him but I immediately purge those thoughts from my mind.
He's a king. A new one at that. He has to ensure the safety of our people and in this circumstance, he has to think about the good of the realm.
If he and Soren agree the other rulers won't travel here unless it's for a wedding or royal death, then I will have to believe them.
I'm not in their shoes. I don't shoulder their burdens. I have my own to bear.
As much as my heart breaks for Ronan, we all have a part to play in this war. Some of us will fight and ultimately die for our realm. Others will marry and walk the fine line of duty to one's country, sacrificing all personal desires for the greater good.
Ronan has every right to be angry, but in the grand scheme of everything, his fate won't be the worst battle we face.
"Ready to go home?" Atlas whispers in my hair and I smile, tipping my chin up to look him in his gloriously handsome face.
"Ready."