“No thank you.”
A steady stream of servants pour in and out of the room, and soon every flat surface is covered in failed attempts. With each new arrival, my resolve hardens.
The king is trying to keep me here, like a pet, and I refuse to be entertained by the toys he’s sent to amuse me.
“Not there,” Oiken snaps at a boy carrying a stringed instrument taller than himself. The majordomo is finally starting to crack. His forehead gleams with sweat. “Put it—no. Not there. By all the stars…overthere, boy!”
The poor boy turns, strikes the man behind him, and the pair careens into an enormous canvas set on an easel, sending the whole apparatus crashing to the floor. The room falls silent.
That is until my cat friend knocks one of the flower vases to the floor, shattering it.
Cassandra, I think to myself.My sister Cassandra would do perfectly for the moment.
“Oh,” I say, bringing a hand to my forehead, “I fear the crowded room is making me faint. Might we take a break?”
Oiken storms from the room, and I do try not to revel too much in his defeat. I smile warmly at the rest of the servants as they trickle out.
“Thank you for your assistance,” I say. “Yes, thank you so much for your help.”
My smile disappears as soon as I spot Rally and Ty trying to sneak out with everyone else.
“Wait,” I say without an ounce of timidity this time. I march up to the pair of them, who stand a full head and a half higher than me, and glare. “Take me to him right now.”
Ty pantomimes begging for my mercy. Rally sags with defeat.
“We’ve been ordered not to let you leave, Your Highness,” he says.
So it’s exactly as I thought. “Then bring him to me,” I say. “It’s either that or you’ll have to lay hands on me to keep me from marching out of this room.”
The threat borders on petulance, but for stars’ sake, if I’m to be queen, I can’t stay here all day. The very idea of being trapped like that terrifies me.
“You go,” Rally says to his brother, shoving him toward the door. “I had to deal with him earlier.”
Ty scowls, but he does go. Rally, after opening his mouth a time or two, decides on not saying anything at all and steps out behind his brother.
I stand amid the broken glass and wait.
My resolve wavers as a single pair of footsteps thunders up the hallway. I swear the floor trembles.
He’s coming.
The knock that precedes him is polite. Controlled. I take heart from this as I call for him to enter.
The king doesn’t spare a glance for the chaos surrounding us as he slips into the room. His eyes latch onto mine and stay there, making my pulse gallop.
“My guards tell me you wish to leave your chambers,” he says.
His tone is perfectly neutral.
I lift my chin. “Indeed. I wish to—”
He cuts through my wishes with a single word of absolute decisiveness:
“No.”
20
I blink at the man—the dragon?—thekingwho will be my husband. How can he say no when I haven’t even finished my sentence?
