Page 78 of The Pleasure Contract

“After all. If that is indeed the case, I only have myself to blame.”

I shake my head as if his words do not make any sense, when the fact of the matter is, they do – just not falling from his mouth. “I…”

Deciding I need time to let this news sink in, my eyes try to distract my mind by bouncing around the walls again. I could ask why he has that broken pottery. I could ask who some of the older people are in his framed images. I could ask what it was like to grow up in the Great Sands Principality. Instead, my mouth asks, “Why only her?”

My father inclines his head, inviting me to elaborate.

“In here,” I say, gesturing to the cozy room – his very own sanctuary. “You have a painted portrait of my mother, but you had many breeding contracts; there’s not even a whisper of any of those other brides in here. Just her.”

He looks at me with an expression that says the answer is blindingly obvious.

“Don’t-” I start, getting up from the seat again. “Don’t say it’s because you loved her, because if that were true, you wouldn’t have gone on to have the-Goddesses-know how many more contracts with other brides. You would have stopped. You would have stayed with her so that the madness wouldn’t have taken hold.”

My father swallows and straightens in his seat, brushing his hands down his front like he wants to brush off my accusations. “I had only sired princes in two principalities by that time, Az. You know any king needs a majority to be seen as strong.”

“And five princesses.”

“You also know they don’t count.”

“They should. A female could rule a principality just as well, if not better than most of your princes combined.”

“I agree.”

“And what’s more-” my mind, my mouth, and any movement come to a complete halt at that. “What?”

My father gets up from his seat with a groan before wandering over to a cabinet displaying a plethora of cut crystal decanters, probably filled with liquors from all over the known galaxies. One even looks luminous yellow. “I said I agree,” he comments, pouring himself a glass and offering one to me. I decline with a shake of my head. If my father is going to act so damn out of character, I want to at least be clear-headed enough to know I’m not hallucinating the whole thing. “You know,” he says, chuckling as he waves a decanter in my direction. “I’ve always thought Zalora could have done a better job at being king. She’s intelligent and fair. And no one dares cross her.” He downs the entirety of the dark purple liquid he’d just poured before pouring another. “Don’t tell her, but I think I’d rather ride one of those drak creatures you’re so fond of than ever see her furious at me ever again.”

He laughs lightly but completely sobers, clearly reminding himself why my aunt had been so mad at him all those years ago. My father puts the stopper back in the decanter and reaches for the liquid that looks like radioactive acid and cruiser fuel’s more volatile cousin.

“Should you be drinking?”

He levels me with a mid-pour look. “What’s it going to do? Kill me?”

I can’t help but let out a small, scoff-like laugh at that.

My father grins back at me. I’ve never seen him smile like that. It almost makes him look young.

“Who will you appoint as your successor?”

Coming back to his seat, he swirls the luminous liquid in the cut crystal glass, pondering for a moment. “Do you want the title of king?” he asks, gesturing to me with his drink.

“Fuck no.”

Tilting his head as he regards me, my father wears an amused smirk on his lips. “You’d probably do a better job than those that are constantly whispering in my ear at court.”

I shake my head. “I have no ambitions for the throne.”

“The best people don’t,” he says, taking a sip of the lurid yellow drink. He winces at the taste and then gives his glass an offended look before putting it down. “Your brother, then? Kiahn has been a fine First Prince for his principality.”

“Kiahn won’t give up his Niska to sire princes,” I state, because that is as plain to see as my horns on my head.

Shrugging, the king tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. “My lords and senators really did not like him overlooking their daughters for contracts, only to invite them to be on his council instead. But I…” he sighs and then looks at me. “I have a long list of regrets. One of them is that I have not made any kind of positive change for our people. I think Kiahn could usher in that change.”

For a moment or two, neither of us says a thing. The room is filled with only the pop and crackle of the fire, and my father’s words hanging in the air. After a while, his head lolls toward me, his eyes glassy. “I take it you, too, will be refusing to entertain breeding contracts because of that human you brought with you this evening?”

I stand straight and say as clearly and firmly as possible, “That is correct.”

The face my father pulls is a contemplative one before he simply shakes his head, picks up his awful-looking drink, and raises his glass to me. “Good for you, son,” he says before downing the lot in one.