“Fun’s going to have to wait, I’m afraid.”
“Regret marrying me yet?”
“Never. But just so we’re clear, I married you. Not your crown. This is your kingdom. I want to see you rule it.” He presses a kiss to Sorscha’s hand, gazing at her with intense adoration.
“Together,” she corrects.
We make our way to the council room not five, but fifteen minutes later—because Eaton agrees with Kai about his fashionably late theory.
Gronwen, Conwell, the High Priest, Jace, and Max are already inside, shocked to see our entire group file into the room.
Gronwen turns to his comrades, dropping his voice to a low hiss. “The entire point of the small council is that it is small. Not open to all heathens living amongst this court.” When Sorscha steps into the room, he straightens. “Princess, I was not expecting your attendance today,” he notes, if not a bit pointedly.
“Oh, you can expect the both of us at every meeting moving forward, seeing as this isherkingdom now,” Eaton retorts.
Once he pushes in Sorscha’s chair, he sits and claps his hands. “So. What is so important you have to rip me from the bliss of my marital union?”
“First order of business.” Gronwen pulls a few documents from a pile. “These licenses must be signed, since the two of you were not married before the eyes of the gods and the people. Without these, your marriage is as good as a sham.”
“It’s far from a sham, let me tell you.” Eaton snickers.
“I mean no offense, Highness. But the marriage needs be legitimized. Sign here and choose a witness to sign below.”
Eaton whistles and snaps his fingers at me. “Rhodesie.”
I come around the table, taking the fountain pen and sprawling my name on the line.
“Sweet of you to give me away, darling.” He ruffles my hair, and I shake him off to take my seat by Serena. Jace watches us from beside Gronwen, looking moderately uncomfortable.
“I trust you performed the Bloodfast as agreed upon last night.”
“Yes, we did.”
“And the results?”
“As you’d expect, though, if you’re looking for a demonstration, it might have to wait until after the meeting.”
“Noted. Onto other matters,” Gronwen drones. “The coronation.”
“We should do it as soon as possible. Before Kylian arrives.” All eyes shift to Sorscha. It was rare for her to attend meetings when Derek was alive, let alone for her to speak up. “I think it would be best to present a unified front.”
Eaton smiles at her with pride.
“I’ll make the arrangements for next week and have the announcement sent. That should give the nobles in the south time to travel from their estates,” Lord Conwell says.
“The public will also need to be informed of the changes made to the late king’s succession,” the High Priest adds. “Although word has likely spread after last night’scelebration.”
He says it like it’s a dirty word.
“We tell the public the truth. That Sorscha and I discovered we were mates, and the rest is history,” Eaton declares.
“I understand that you are mates. Forgive my saying so, but the late king was very clear in his choice for a successor.”Gronwen’s gaze shifts to Jace. “We have been left with little choice but to accept this union, lest we upset the entire line of succession to carry out his wishes and in doing so, turn our own people against us. I want to make sure you understand the implications that come with this alliance. Are you prepared for this? The people will look to you as they would to him, and as a second son, I’m not sure that you’re suited to the role.”
“More suited than he is.” Eaton nods toward Jace. “Never got to compliment you on your right hook, by the way.”
He tips his head in thanks, eyes murderous as he drums his fingers on the table.
“That may be. However, as Derek was a close personal friend, the responsibility falls on me to make sure his kingdom and his only daughter are protected.”
