I shake my head, focusing on the conversation. “It’s been…intense. Finding out I’m the High Princess and who my biological father was has been more than enough shock. Then you add in the murders, coronation, and five new boyfriends?” I shake my head again and sip my wine, the sweet taste of blackberry exploding on my tongue.
“Boyfriends, huh?” He chuckles. “I suppose that’s the truth. For being your boyfriend, I don’t know much about you.”
“Nor I you,” I say, cutting a glance at him.
“Fair,” he responds, raising his glass to me.
“It’s certainly a strange position to be in, and I’m sorry that you’re also in it.”
He eyes me carefully. “Mae, I’m happy to be here.”
Maybe I was wrong then. Maybe Asmo was talking about himself when he said he was being forced to be here. “I’m confused. Asmo said—”
Realization dawns on him, his eyes softening as he says, “Asmo told me what he said to you last night. My brother is very…” He pauses as he searches for the right word. “He’s very defensive about our court and our family. We were both raised to reign, but he was always first in line because he was born first. With the rumors of August being chosen as the next High Prince, Asmo and I have never had to consider being the High King, just the Serpent King. It came as a shock when we received the invitation to participate in courting you.”
“Then why didn’t you both just decline?” I ask.
“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” He hesitates, looking out to the dark forest as he mulls over his response. “There hasn’t been a High King from the Serpent House in over a century. To have a member of the Serpent House as the High King would bring great honor to our House for years to come. It would have been foolish to decline the offer.”
His dark eyes find mine, and I swear it looks like there’s sadness in them.
“So, you weren’t forced to be here, but you also didn’t have an option,” I say.
“Yes, you could say that. Asmo isn’t upset with you. He’s frustrated with the entire situation.”
“It’s not exactly my dream either,” I admit, pulling my legs up into the chair and tucking them underneath me.
He cocks his head. “What is your dream?”
Nobody’s ever asked me that before. I turn my head, staring into the darkness of the woods as I consider this. It’s every little girl’s dream to be queen, but ironically, it was never mine.
“To be honest, I liked my life as it was. I think I was living my dream, or at least some version of it. I was happy. I had just opened my bookstore, I loved my house, and I loved what I did every day. My intimate life was rarely serious, and I enjoyed dating around. The idea of being marriedin three months is terrifying to me,” I confess. “I mean, what if I pick the wrong male? I only get to know each of you for three months before choosing someone that I’ll spend every single day with. That’s terrifying.”
His head bobs up and down slowly. “It seems like an impossible decision. Almost like you were given the illusion of freedom without really having it.” He reaches over to my free hand and covers it with his own. A single vein runs over the back of his hand and down his wrist.
“I’m sorry, Mae. It is difficult to feel like you have all this freedom because you’re in a position of power, only to realize it’s a different set of chains.”
I offer him a tight smile before downing my wine. He pours me more, topping his own glass off, too.
“Anyway,” I say, “enough of me wallowing in my privileged misery. When I spoke to Asmo, I thought maybe he wasn’t talking about himself. I thought maybe he was speaking for you.”
He places his elbow on the armchair and rests his head on his chin. “Why would you think that?”
“I had this theory that you were close with Etta. Asmo said you two were friendly, and I took that and ran with it. I thought maybe you had started seeing her and thatyouwere the one who wasn’t happy about being here, not Asmo.”
He leans forward. “Why would you think I was seeing Etta?” His tone is low, and he asks the question slowly, seemingly guarded.
I put my head in my hands and groan. “I don’t know. I shared the theory with my friend, and she was as confused as you are.”
He relaxes back into his chair and says, “I’m sorry if you were under the assumption that I was seeing Etta. I’m sure that caused some worry for you since I’m your boyfriend and all.” He winks at me, his cautious tone disappearing.
“You accept the title, then? I was bold earlier when I said that, but I’m not sure how this works. Are you all my boyfriends? Or do I just date each of you, then jump straight into fiancés?”
“So, you’re an overthinker?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. “Cheers to the overthinkers.” He holds his wine glass out, and I clink mine to his.
“I guess you could say that. Your High Queen has anxiety, but so does everyone,” I say, glancing at the dark woods.
“I don’t think it’s a bad thing, though—not in a position like this. I would say it’s a strength. Growing up, we had to think through all the different possibilities that could happen and determine solutions for each one. We were taught to foster that feeling of anxiety. But instead of simmering in it, we were taught to attack it and think through it to get to the different solutions. It’s a good trait to have if you’re in charge of an entire region, or an entire people,” he says, gesturing to me.
