Mother sighed as if a great relief had been released and gestured for a servant to come closer. They presented her with a long, narrow box, which Mother set on the table and pushed toward Aristea. “Duke Mattison sent a present for you. I planned on having him around for a dinner party. I thought you could wear it and remove the veil to declare your intentions.”
Aristea took the box with gritted teeth. Inside was a necklace with large rubies dripping like blood in a black metal working. She hated it and wished she could toss it on the ground to grind it beneath her slipper. But instead, she accepted it, calling over Yvette to take it to her room.
“I’ll retire the veil then,” Aristea said.
Mother squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Aristea. I know I can always count on you.”
She felt a scream crawling up her throat, but she choked it back. With nothing left to be said, she excused herself and joined her guards, who were waiting in the hall to escort her to her next appointment. Mountains of paperwork were waiting for her in her apartment—petitions and reports. But thinking about sitting and shuffling through papers made her feel suddenly claustrophobic.
She needed fresh air, and so she headed out to the garden. She had no particular destination in mind and carelessly wandered toward her and Jonathan’s secret spot. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see him there, leaning against a tree, twisting his cane in his hand nervously. Her heart leapt traitorously. She was about to turn away when he called out to her.
“Aristea!”
She should walk away. With his limp, he couldn’t catch up if she ran. Or she could tell the guards to keep him away. But rather than do either of those things, she let him march up to her.
“You cannot call me by my first name. What will people think?”
“The truth, that I care for you deeply.”
A blush burned her cheeks. But she crossed her arms rather than acknowledge his flirting. She wasn’t a fool; she recognized his agenda.
“Can we talk?” he asked. His expression was so earnest she couldn’t tell him no.
“Are we not?”
“I lost you once, Aristea. I don’t want to do it again.” He grasped his cane tightly until his knuckles turned white.
“You never had me. I was destined to marry Heinrich, and now I’ll likely marry Duke Mattison. Everything is as it should be.”
“No, it isn’t. You can’t want this.” He took a step toward her. The distance was closing, and her breath hitched.
“My lord.” Her guard cleared his throat, and Jonathan halted his approach. He looked at the guards, then back at her, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I would rather we discuss this in private,” Jonathan said.
“Whatever needs to be said can be said in front of my guard,” Aristea replied coolly. She needed to widen the gap between them. She’d let him become too familiar and had opened her heart to a possibility that would never be. She’d marry Duke Mattison, as her mother had decreed, and become the empress. That was her destiny.
“Then I’ll say it here. I don’t care who knows. Aristea, I love you. I have since we were young, and I was too cowardly to say it back then. But I’ve lived every moment since in regret. Reject me if you must, but I had to let you know.”
The words pierced her like an arrow through the heart. But her ambitions for the future would be shaken by a marriage to someone like Jonathan. She knew in her heart it was either Duke Mattison or no one at all.
She shook her head. “Jonathan?—”
His face fell. “I can’t bear to hear you say no, not when I know it’s not what’s in your heart. I don’t want the throne. I want you. Run away with me. Denounce the throne. Whatever you must do. Haven’t you given up enough for the empire? Must you bleed to satisfy the dukes and your mother?”
“It’s not that simple. Mathias...”
“Could be a good emperor. It doesn’t have to always be you, Aristea. You don’t have to give up everything you want for some damned legacy.”
“Is that what you want?” the voice whispered in Aristea’s ear. “Will you give up everything you’ve worked for? All your sacrifices and heartache to become some country lord’s wife?”
A cold chill ran over Aristea. This was the problem, wasn’t it? Either he was part of some scheme of Duke Krantz’s, or she gave up her goals. If she ran away with him into exile, she’d still be trapped. Not by duty to the crown, but beholden to him and his estate, as any other woman was. The life he offered seemed idyllic, built on a foundation of love, but it was a cage just as much as a marriage to Duke Mattison would be.
“Do you think I’ll be happy as your wife? That I’d be satisfied in the country? This isn’t just my mother’s dream. It’s mine too. I want this.” And she meant it. She was sick of everyone else making the decisions for her. Letting men take the lead.
Jonathan recoiled as if she’d struck him, but she didn’t care.
“Yes,” the voice hissed. “Come to me. Let me fill you with power.”
