59
“What?” Araton and I snapped together, him speaking Elvish and me the common tongue, spinning around toward our father.
“Have you totally lost your mind? It’s forbidden!” my brother kept ranting, bewildered, with his eyes almost popping out of their sockets.
Mine, instead, were filled with emotion and disbelief. Did Father intend . . . Did he mean to offer my hand to Amlach? Was that the real message behind his words?
“Araton,” Mother warned him with authority.
My brother looked at her as if she had gone crazy as well. “You’re telling me you approve?”
She shared a serious glance with her mate. “Yes,” she replied, continuing to speak in the common tongue. She gazed at her son with a combination of kindness and resolve. “It’s the right decision. And the druids we spoke to confirmed that the Spirits showed no signs of disagreement.”
I pressed my hand on my upset stomach, feeling increasingly breathless, my heart rioting against my ribs.
“It’s pure madness!” Araton yelled.
“You shall respect your king’s decision, boy,” Father said, each syllable sharp and clear.
“ Boy?” my brother echoed, hurt and offended by being spoken to in such a humiliating manner.
“And you shall do it in silence,” the king added vehemently, leaving no room for further protest.
Araton clammed up, lips curled, chin quivering, and face crumpled by barely restrained rage.
Our father watched him for a long time to ensure he obeyed, then he shifted his attention above my head. On Amlach.
I took an anxious breath as my tear-filled eyes locked with my mother’s. But why was she looking at me with hushed pity?
“My late sister and her mate,” Father said in a lofty voice, “who joined her in Rest shortly after her death at the hands of Mornon the Abomination, belonged to two of the oldest and most valiant noble families of our people. They left four young daughters of rare beauty.”
My blood ran cold.
Father slightly lifted his chin with haughtiness. “I ask you to choose your future bride from among them, King Amlach, during the celebration that the queen and I have decided to hold for the return of my heir.”
Everything around me lost its color.
The song of nature stopped ringing in my ears.
My heart felt as if it had stopped.
Every second stretched endlessly as I stared at my father, feeling as though he had pierced me with his gone spear.
Without even realizing it, I moved my arm back until it pressed against Amlach’s strong thigh, digging my fingers into it.
To assert my claim over him.
To beg him to stand up against that request.
“I can’t believe this . . .” Araton said in Elvish, clearly shocked, deeply disgusted, and angry at our father. “Would you truly deny one of our cousins the chance to find her own mate?”
Understanding how delicate this subject was for him after losing Serie, Mother approached him and took his hands. “There are times, my son, when duty must come before one’s happiness,” she said, in a nearly mournful tone.
He stared at her with a betrayed expression. “You can’t seriously mean it, Mother.”
The queen’s eyes welled up as she indulgently stroked his face. My brother pushed her away with such disapproval that she covered her trembling lip with her fingers.
“Your cousins are kind and conscientious, as their parents were,” Father said, more affably. “And I’m sure they’ll understand once I speak with them.”
Araton shook his head, shocked, and turned his back to us, scrubbing his hands over his face.
Brow furrowing, Father looked at him for a few moments, almost as if he wanted to say something.
Finally, he turned his attention back to the man behind me.
“My daughter is right, Your Majesty,” he stated.
“You are human. But you are also one of us.” His mate moved beside him again, heartbroken for Araton, and he entwined his fingers with hers before addressing Amlach once more. “So, what is your answer?”
I should talk. I should do something.
But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think.
All that reverberated in my mind was a huge, excruciating no .
I pressed my nails deeper into Amlach’s thigh, but it was as if I was trying to squeeze steel. I yearned to feel his rough, reassuring hands on my shoulders, to hear his warm voice affirm that I was the one he wanted, and no one else.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he exhaled loudly through his nose, slightly tousling the hair on top of my head. “Maybe it’s time for my kingdom to have a queen,” he said.
I held my breath.
“I accept your terms, King Erech,” Amlach announced.
I stopped squeezing his thigh, and my arm fell limply at my side. My eyes drifted into the emptiness.
Amlach sidestepped me and offered his hand to my father, who firmly grasped his wrist.
“May this agreement usher in a new era of peace and prosperity,” the King of the Elves proclaimed.
“And toward new . . .” Amlach paused to find the right word, then said it in a tone as ambiguous as seductive, “ Experiences.”
“Definitely,” my mother said, with a smile that couldn’t hide her sadness for Araton. “Come, Your Majesty. I will show you your rooms.”
“Let me guess . . .” Amlach gallantly offered her his arm. “The stables this time?”
She let out a melodic laugh, and even my father chuckled a little.
Amlach gave him a respectful nod. “King Erech.” He also nodded to my brother, despite Araton having his back turned, with one hand on his hip and the other grabbing one of the gazebo’s columns. “Prince.” Lastly, he slightly bowed to me. “Your Highness.”
He winked at me, then a smirk flickered on his lips as I shot him a furious stare.
I would bite that grin off.
It was a promise.