“I think it’s a suitable solution, don’t you? Those loyal to the family will be appeased, and you’ve said yourself how his knowledge of running this kingdom will be a tremendous help. He’ll be too well guarded to cause trouble, and we’ll have the children to keep him in line.”
Draylon’s stomach soured. He squinched his eyes shut. Long had he dreaded this day.God of Bitter Fate, spare me!“If not the duke, who are you recommending?”Please don’t say it, please don’t say it.
He opened his eyes and turned in time to see Father’s broad grin. “Why, you, of course. Instead of a second son, you’ll be a king in your own right.”
Draylon stiffened. No! No! No! No! No! “Me? Father, I’m a warrior. I’m no ruler.”
Father dismissed Draylon’s objections with a wave of his beringed hand. “You weren’t a warrior until you were. Like battle tactics, you can learn. I’m told the two aren’t dissimilar at times. While you learn your duties, you’ll be surrounded by the finest advisors you can have, as when you learned to fight.”
Married. Made a king.
By all the gods, please, no.
“Are you stillinvolvedwith Captain Rufe?” The slight sneer on Father’s lips spoke of his distaste for the matter.
“I’ve told you repeatedly, we’re not involved. We’re friends.” Sometimes the friendship became physical but was never going anywhere emotionally. Years ago, Draylon held out hope, but the more time passed, the more he valued Rufe’s friendship. They probably couldn’t maintain the same level of comfort around each other as official lovers. Besides, Rufe would be horrified by the attention and swore never to confine his affections to one person.
His carousing ways were part of his charm—and one thing eliminating him as a possible consort. The tattoo he wore was another.
Rufe’s blood was as noble as Draylon’s, his father a duke and mother a countess. That both had been wed to others at the time of his conception made Rufe a bastard. The younger brother born once the duke and countess married each other now claimed the heir status, leaving Rufe without a title. Society wouldn’t accept a match between the emperor’s son and a bastard.
Also, Draylon couldn’t imagine Rufe enduring the endless society balls required of a royal. Dodging scheming mamas and, in some cases, fathers. If you possessed a title, wealth, or both, someone was always willing to connive them from you.
Draylon would rather fight on the battlefield than in a ballroom, too, but his birthright was inescapable.
Now, his time had run out. “What would you have done if I’d said yes about Rufe and me?” Many thought Father unreadable. Draylon had learned as a survival tool.
“Then I would ensure your relationship with the captain didn’t interfere with our plans.”
Our plans? Whose? Definitely not Draylon’s. From the note of caution in his father’s voice, Draylon knew not to push the topic further, whether Father meant to buy Rufe out, marry him off, or dispose of him. All for the greater good, no doubt.
Hard to miss the thinly veiled threat. If Draylon went against his father’s wishes, he wouldn’t be alone in bearing the punishment. Married. How could Draylon get married? He squeezed his hands into fists. “Father, he’s a possible traitor! How could you ask this of me?”
“The prince must give up direct claim to the throne. His stepmother and half siblings will come to our high court as insurance for his continued good behavior. You two will marry, and you’ll assume the throne with trusted advisors by your side.”
Spies, in other words. No need to make this too easy for the old man. Draylon would attach conditions of his own. “Rufe must stay here with me.”
Father narrowed his eyes. “Swear to me you’ll not publicly cuckold your groom in the first two years of marriage, until the political situation stabilizes, so the brat has no reason not to cooperate. And never with that bastard Rufe. Do I make myself clear?”
What could Draylon say?
Father slammed his hand down on the desk. “You’ll not begin your reign with rumors of an affair with a bastard!” Ah, how the man let his prejudices show when riled. A good portion of the nobility were likely bastards. They’d simply learned to hide the truth.
“I have no intention of Rufe being my lover, as I said.” There would be no negotiating once Father made up his mind. “I agree to your terms. But you want a strong military here. No one is better suited to the task than Rufe. Even your most loyal spies will tell you so.”
For long moments, Father didn’t speak. Finally, he said, “So be it.”
Draylon might as well gain some benefit from his father’s scheming. “When will this wedding take place?”
“Three days from today.”
Not enough time to inform Mother then, let her plan the wedding or have her persuade Father to change his mind. By the time she heard the news, Draylon would be a married man. “Who are my witnesses?” If only he could finagle Mother to be here or postpone the wedding. At least she’d look out for his interests, and even Father knew not to cross her, but the trip from Cormira with an entourage required at least two weeks.
“Myself, your brother, and your beloved Captain Rufe.” Father wasn’t above fighting dirty. For them, Draylon might play nice.
“My brother? Avestan is here?” A bit of relief chased away Draylon’s panic. Avi would stand up to their father if needed. The heir held a lot more sway than a mere younger son.
“He is en route and will arrive soon.”
