I stepout of the car, and the salty sea breeze whips through my hair. It carries with it the excited chatter of a crowd and the distant neighing of kelpies. I feel the weight of Alden’s persistent glances as he steps out onto the racetrack grounds behind me.
“You’re drooling,” I remark dryly.
“You look yummy.”
“They have food inside the clubhouse.” I brush past him, eager to escape his presence. I need to find Janus and Beatrix Marks. If I can prove they are working together, I can present my findings to the Council, which will force Janus to admit she is Stellan’s mole. My hope is that this will reunite the Council, and, more importantly, save me from marrying Alden.
Alden grasps my arm. “What’s wrong?” His tan coat and orange-hued scarf make his blue eyes even more striking.
I pull out of his hold as Ravi stops beside us. Alden gives him a nod to head inside. Ravi tries to meet my stare, but I refuse to acknowledge him. He must’ve known Alden’s intentions to marry me. Telling me would have been a wise move to win my trust.
“Did you have plans to marry me all along, or was it a spur-of-the-moment idea with Janus?” I snap, my voice low in case any photographers are nearby.
Alden smiles. It isn’t cruel or cunning, but resigned. “You silly girl, you ruined the surprise. I was going to ask you. But now the cat is out of the bag, we might as well discuss it.”
My jaw hardens. “That’s right, you should have asked me, but you didn’t. Were you afraid I’d say no, so you had to force my hand?”
“You can always say no.” Alden crosses his arms.
I exhale slowly to quell my anger. “You should have talked to me first. Not Janus. Instead, she blindsided me yesterday, giving me an ultimatum—peace or Wilder.”
It’s not fair.
Alden sighs. “I am surprised you didn’t see this coming, Leigh. As a single woman in her early twenties, it was only a matter of time before your Council began pressuring you to get married. You are the last in line for the throne. How else did you expect we would ally with Corona?”
“Not through marriage,” I say, and he frowns. “We could forge a treaty. Or?—”
“Leigh, a strategic marriage between us would be a politically astute move. Several leaders of neighboring countries, including my father, perceive a Lunar Witch as a threat to their security. Not to mention, control over Corona means access to your ports in the east and your oil reserves in the west. As a war strategist, I could help strengthen your borders and project an image of power to deter potential invaders,” he explains.
His words cause my throat to constrict. It feels as if I’ve swallowed gravel.
I scowl. “You’ve left no stone unturned.”
“I am nothing but thorough,” Alden says, then his eyes sparkle. “And charming.”
“I have a boyfriend,” I remind him, but the words sound weak after he’s outlined how ripe my country is for invasion.
“A marriage is a strategic alliance, Leigh. Keep your boyfriend. I have my affairs back home, anyway.”
My face pinches. “That’s messed up on so many levels.”
He shrugs. “Welcome to politics.”
I can’t even speak. There has to be another way. Janus can’t just broker my marriage like some trade deal. My country’s future can’t hangonlyon who I marry. If the Council and I were united, and Stellan ceased writing stories that sow division, we could consider allocating more resources to our military. However, our priority would be to address the issue of Janus and her potential role as a mole.
“I can’t wait forever, Leigh,” Alden says. “My father expects an answer soon, or he will demand I take your country by force. What will it be? Me or war?”
I don’t bother responding; I just head for the clubhouse.
“You have two days! Then I expect an answer!” Alden calls, and I give him the finger without so much as glancing back.
I don’t like that guy,my father’s ghost grumbles.
“Join the club,” I respond.
Alden follows me to the clubhouse, unease spreads through my body like a poisonous vine, wrapping tendrils around my heart before squeezing. The thought of telling Wilder about Alden threatens to drown me. Will Wilder understand my position, or will he fight it? As queen, I must prevent war at all costs, even if it means making personal sacrifices. But the idea of Wilder not accepting that decision fills me with dread. If I could, I’d remove the crown off my head and stomp on it.
Conflicting emotions rage within me, each one battling for supremacy. The desire to protect my kingdom is a constant presence, but it’s intertwined with the bitter realization that my happiness may be the price.
