Page 3 of Bred By the Emperor

I spend the afternoon and all the next day considering every possible unmarried male in the kingdom who might potentially suit my needs—discretion, a disinterest in leadership—that is my job, thank you very much, and I take it very seriously—and will reliably stay out of the tabloids. It’s a fairly boring life, but it does come with a castle and an expense account.

Unfortunately, by midday, I have eliminated every possible candidate. Not a single taker for the role of Prince Consort can be found in Kellimar.

To buy time, I compose a formal letter inviting King Malakai to discuss treaty terms. If I’m going to be forced into the arms of his lout of a son, I am determined to set some enforceable rules first.

Dear Emperor,

I am willing to discuss a union between Kellimar and Enovar. However, a wedding today hence is not enough time to prepare. Please bring your son, Prince Kenton, to my kingdom to discuss the terms of the treaty. I would like some guarantees before I sign over rule of my kingdom to a mere princeling. You are both welcome to come and stay with us for a few days to get to know my kingdom and its customs. You will have a great deal to learn, as you have never expressed any interest in Kellimar before now. I’ll bargain with you, but you have to come to me.

Warm regards,

Princess Liliviere.

Chapter 3

Malakai

Icrumple Princess Liliviere’s letter into a ball and throw it into the wastepaper basket. It bounces off the rim. I stride after it with a growl and bend to pick it up. This time it lands hard enough to rock the bin.

She thinks she can negotiate with me? Challenge me?

She’s about to learn why I won the war. I snap my fingers at my secretary. “Beatrice. Issue a press release. Princess Liliviere shall marry my son, Prince Kenton of Enovar, tomorrow.”

Fuck negotiations. Check mate, little princess. I own your country.

She wants us to come to her? Fine. She’ll get what she wanted. If I have to personally stuff her into a wedding dress and shove her down the aisle, so be it.

Liliviere

The morning after I sent my response to the emperor’s marital demand letter, I open my phone and gasp in shock. Cold races down my spine. “He didn’t.”

Oh, that son of a bitch. Malakai thinks he can pressure me by announcing a match between me and his son? I am not that easily intimidated. Now there’s no fucking way I will ever marry Prince Kenton of Enovar. He could be the nicest, sweetest man ever to walk the Earth, and I would shun him out of spite. I will not be manipulated.

I’m already typing out my own version of a press release. I want this to say precisely what I mean. It takes me several tries to get the draft right, but satisfied, I send it off to my assistant, and Julian sends it out to the newspapers.

The news positively explodes. An afternoon edition gets rushed to press, for those who still read in print. Online, the contradictory announcements are a flood of vitriol and cheerleading for the young princess who dares to stand up to the domineering emperor. I have my assistant lock my phone where I cannot access it, so that I can focus on preparing for Emperor Malakai’s arrival. There’s only so much that can be done in such a short time. I order fresh flowers brought in from the Royal Gardens and arranged throughout the castle. The guest rooms are aired and laid out with fresh linens. We send into town for local culinary specialties. If I have one day to impress the emperor and his son and make them understand why Kellimar is worth preserving, I will show them exactly what makes my country unique.

While I doubt a war general who claimed multiple countries as his own personal territory will appreciate our cultural distinctiveness, perhaps I can reach the son. From what little I know of him through press reports and royal intelligence—we all have our spies—Prince Kenton seems to be a reasonable man. The only reasonable one of the three men, frankly. Prince Zarek is a manwhore who seems to care more about chasing minor celebrities than he does about anything else. His father…well, I have a lot of opinions about a man I have never met.

I admit that a part of me is intrigued. Malakai the Monster is always scowling in photographs. I’ve never seen him smile. He has piercing green eyes and thick dark hair that’s beginning to go gray at the temples. He is, undeniably, a handsome man. No wonder he was able to seduce a princess and, when Sariah’s parents, the King and Queen of Enovar, were killed in an attack, he took control of the country and marched to victory against Gremalia. There were other countries caught in the conflict, too. Malakai took control of them all. Where the monarchies survived, he allowed them to stay on as local rulers. I can’t say he’s been a tyrant. But he is certainly forceful and clearly expects to get anything he wants.

I get flutters in my stomach just thinking about meeting him. Part of it is the fear that a complete stranger is going to steamroll my entire life. The best way to combat a bad case of nerves is to stay busy. I work late into the night, then rise early on the day of his expected arrival. I expected a military general to arrive early, but he keeps me waiting until nearly lunchtime. When his helicopter finally splits the sky and touches down on the landing pad built onto a tower—a necessary addition to the ancient structure during the war—I settle my crown on my loose blond hair and step out onto the parapet to greet him.

A large man hops down easily from the platform to the ground, landing lightly on his feet. My pulse quickens. He turns to say something I can’t hear over the chopping blades to someone still inside. A second figure jumps down. Almost as tall and slimmer than the first. That must be the son. Prince Kenton. Both men wear sunglasses. Their stride is similar, but the way the first man walks has a mesmerizing cadence to it. A certain muscularity in his movements that is echoed in the breadth of his shoulders.

By the time they make it down the wall to me, a fluttery sensation has filled my belly. I am accustomed to meeting with powerful men. My grandfather might be nominally in charge, but I have been leading this country from behind the scenes for years.

But not one of the men I have met with ever came with the intention of marrying me.

Stand strong, I scold myself. You are not getting married today. To anyone.

Then Emperor Malakai walks up to me, snatches his sunglasses off his face, and bows. My resolve crumbles. I barely notice his son mimicking his movements behind him. I can’t take my eyes off the father’s chiseled features. A blade of a nose that’s been broken at least once. High forehead. Thick, dark hair, cut military short. Unsmiling, but sensuous mouth.

Then there are his eyes. Those green depths cut right through me. They’re fierce and calculating with a hint of warmth in the creases gathering at the corners.

“Princess Liliviere,” he says. “I have come to present my son. The rest of my entourage will arrive shortly for the wedding.”

I tilt my head at him, thinking. “I haven’t agreed to marry anyone,” I finally tell him. That mouth I can’t stop staring at quirks up in a hint of a smile when I challenge him.