“She’s intelligent. Well-practiced.”
“And from an excellent family.” He pauses. “Your mother enjoys talking to her.”
“And?”
“So far, she’s the front-runner. Get to know her better.”
He studies me for a long moment, like he’s waiting for me to disagree. I want to, but instead, I keep my expression neutral. Right now, I’m playing the long game as I come up with a strategy. Also, my father should be resting and not under immense amounts of stress, so I try not to be a burden this morning.
“You seem distracted today,” he says finally. “Distant.”
“I didn’t sleep well.”
I’ve learned that giving him anything extra is a mistake. He’ll use it against me—not out of cruelty, but because he knows what’s best.
“See that you rest tonight.” He rises from his chair and buttons his jacket.
“Have you changed your mind about treatments?” I ask, not allowing him to back away from this conversation.
“I’ve already explained this to you.”
“You can change your mind. We have access to the best doctors in the world. You’re being stubborn.” Begging my father is not beneath me. I don’t want to lose him.
“Watch your tone.” He slightly raises his voice. “Go rest and start taking this seriously.” He’s beyond frustrated with me.
“I’m taking this as seriously as you’re taking your health.”
He holds my gaze for a beat too long, and I wonder what he sees.
“A proposal is expected before September,” he reminds me, as if I’ve forgotten after this charade this morning.
“That’s all the council wants?” I ask.
“You know the expectation,” he says softly.
“To find a suitable woman who is fit to be queen and can continue the bloodline. Correct?” I’m losing my patience.
“That’s the requirement,” he reminds me before walking out.
I’m left alone with my thoughts in the empty breakfast hall.
As I let out a long breath, the thought repeats in my mind.To find a suitable woman who is fit to be queen and can continue the bloodline.
I have less than two weeks to figure out how to keep Addison and not destroy everything my family has built. My grandmother lived in a different time, with different rules, and a father who would have had her lover killed without a second thought. But this isn’t 1952.
The council wants a suitable woman, which means political alliance; my parents want grandchildren and stability; and the country needs a relatable queen they can admire.
Addison is American and has no title, political value, or strategic alliance. But she’s also a Cross. Her family is worthbillions. Her brother is one of the most famous athletes in the world. She’s respected in international art circles, and she has been trained in etiquette since childhood, handled media her entire life, and turned down twelve proposals from men who probably could’ve given her a life without the circus.
She’s not a nobody; it’s that she’s not European royalty.
The question isn’t whether I can marry her. The question is whether I can make my parents see her as a viable choice before the thirteen days are up.
I need a strategy. I need allies. And, fuck, I need more time.
The sunlight streams through the tall windows and catches the dust motes floating in the air, and for a moment, the room feels like a gilded cage with bars made of crystal and silk. And I need to get the fuck out of here before I lose my mind.
I don’t run into another soul on the way to the east wing. My footsteps tap against the marble floors as I walk past portraits of my ancestors. Their painted eyes follow me down the corridor, and I wonder if any of them were truly happy or if happiness was never part of the arrangement.
