Page 13 of Bred By the Emperor

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Grandfather says dryly.

“My apologies. I was worried about my wife.”

“We aren’t married yet,” I remind him.

His stern mouth tugs into a grin. “Let’s go fix that.”

Chapter 10

Malakai

The cathedral is full. A gaggle of paparazzi wait outside. Getting out of here it’s going to be a goddamn nightmare.

Every member of my council is looking at me as though they’re attending my public execution instead of my marriage.

My eldest son hasn’t spoken to me in hours. I’ll deal with Kenton later. Right now, frankly, I consider that a blessing. I tug impatiently at the ceremonial robes one of my advisors insisted I wear.

“It is traditional Enovar garb, Your Majesty.”

“Traditionally, I wear a military uniform.” That’s what I wore for my first wedding.

“With respect, sir, you need all the public goodwill you can get. Honoring our culture will help spin this as beneficial to the people.”

Fuck the people. This is my life. I have given decades of it in public service. The one time I’m selfishly choosing a woman who makes me happy, and the world acts like it’s coming to an end.

Another advisor pokes his head in and says, “We’re ready.”

“Good.” I immediately stride toward the sanctuary.

“Wait.” My councilor’s hand on my arm stops me. I brush him off irritably.

“The bride isn’t ready.”

“So?”

He blinks at me. “...So...the groom waits.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how weddings work. You cannot get married unless the bride is ready.”

“What’s keeping her?”

“She got a phone call about twenty minutes ago. A friend trying to talk her out of marrying you. At least trying to get her to wait a few days.”

“Absolutely not.” It had better not be that Julian prick again. I crash through the door and find Liliviere talking into her phone.

“I have to go,” she says. I yank the device from her unresisting hand. Sure enough, it’s the assistant.

“Whether you like it or not, this wedding is happening. Now. Try to interfere again, and I will personally kick your balls up between your teeth. Got it?” I close the connection.

“Mal, he wasn’t⁠—”

I grab her by the wrist and drag her out to the aisle where her grandfather is waiting. Can the old man manage to walk thirty feet of red carpet? I tuck Liliviere’s hand into his elbow and pat it. “I don’t care if you have to carry him. Meet me at that altar.”

With the organ’s chords swelling, I stride to the front of the cathedral. Every head turns toward me. When I get to the ornately decorated nave, I turn back to watch my bride, adopt a wide stance, and wait.

It takes them for fucking ever to walk down together. The king insisted upon giving his granddaughter away. I wish I had pushed back because their progress is excruciatingly slow.