Chapter 1 #2
It was the reason Branock was primed to take the throne so soon. Emperor Aris was ready to step aside and let his son rule as he lived out the rest of his days in peace.
And the reason they wanted him to find a wife. Seeing as my father was one of the only noblemen with an eligible daughter…
Lucky me.
“Ah, the Faelans! Welcome, welcome,” Arturus Aris said, slowly rising to his feet.
He was only in his fiftieth decade of life, but his illness had aged him far beyond his years.
Wrinkles lined his tan face, his limbs and shoulders appearing thin and brittle.
An emerald cloak swished at his heels as he grabbed his cane and made his way down the short steps of the dais.
His wife, Genevieve, kept a hand on his elbow to guide him.
“It’s a pleasure to see you, Your Majesties,” my mother said, bowing low. She shot me a stern look and nudged her chin toward them.
“Yes—yes, of course.” I cleared my throat and dipped into a curtsy. The edge of the corset dug into my ribs. “We’re so honored to be here, Emperor and Empress Aris.”
“Likewise, my dear,” Genevive said. “Look at you! I haven’t seen you in years. Such a beautiful woman you’ve become.”
I dipped my head again. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
A rustle to my left made me glance over, and my back stiffened. A young man lurked in the shadows of the nearest column, leaning against the marble with one ankle crossed over the other like he owned the place.
Well, I guessed he sort of did.
Unruly dark hair curled down to his ears, the color the same as his sharp eyes—so brown they were almost black. Like coals in a flame. A strong jaw was hidden beneath a light layer of stubble, and when he reached up to scratch his chin, several large rings glittered on his fingers.
Fates, he was more attractive than the portraits showed.
I hated it.
“So, this is the wolf,” he drawled, barely giving me a glance as he made his way to stand next to his father.
I blinked, my lips parting. That momentary attraction turned to irritation, boiling beneath my skin. I schooled my features and extended a curtsy to him, a false smile pasted on my face when I raised to meet his gaze. “The wolf has a name, if you’d bother to learn it, Your Highness.”
The words slipped from me before I could stop them. The look my mother gave me could’ve burned through a brick wall.
Branock’s look, however, matched mine. Combative, obstinate, heated.
Intrigued.
Arturus cleared his throat, warily glancing between the two of us. “Branock, this is Lady Evadine Faelan. You remember her father, Lord Darius Faelan?”
Branock nodded to my father. “Good to see you again, sir.”
“And he’s a fox, Your Highness,” I said sweetly. “In case you’re inclined to refer to us that way.”
“Evadine,” my mother hissed.
Branock let out a hum. “I imagine his bite isn’t nearly as bad as yours, my lady.”
“I’m sure you’ll discover soon enough,” I shot back.
“Children, children,” Arturus said with an awkward chuckle. “The kitchen has prepared a fine lunch for us. We should go and get to know each other better.”
“You call me a child, then throw a wife at me. It’s one or the other, Father,” Branock said under his breath, rolling up the sleeves of his navy shirt before offering his arm to his father to lean on.
We let the three royals pass, then Father, Mother, and I followed them down the aisle. “Trust me, I wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance, either,” I muttered at Branock’s back.
He suddenly whirled to face me, cocking his head as if he were inspecting a bug on his boot. “You don’t like me, do you, Lady Evadine?”
His mother tried to cut in. “Branock, honestly—”
“Perceptive, Your Highness. I can see why they want to give you the throne,” I said coolly. I ignored my mother’s disgruntled cough.
One of his dark eyebrows raised. “Is that how you plan to speak to your emperor?”
A scoff left me. “Is that how you plan to speak to your wife?”
He took a step toward me, so close now I could see the hint of an angry blush creeping onto his neck from beneath his collar.
“Branock,” the emperor barked, with more force than I thought possible from his frail stature. “My office. Now.”
Branock held my stare a moment longer, eyes flashing with annoyance before he pivoted on his heel and passed his father without a word.
“We apologize for our son’s behavior,” Genevive said after the two men had exited the throne room. “He’s been under a great deal of stress with the impending coronation.”
“Tensions are high all around, it seems.” Father glared at me as he spoke.
I scratched beneath my ear, embarrassment blazing through me. Fates, where had that come from? I was making a fool of myself in front of the royal family. So much for first impressions.
“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” I said to Genevive. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I was out of line.”
To my surprise, a faint smile graced her lips. “Don’t apologize, dear. That boy could do with being knocked down a peg or two.” There was a knowing glint in her eyes before she turned to lead us out of the throne room. “Perhaps you’re exactly what he needs.”