Page 5 of Falling for the King

Xavier’s collar suddenly felt too tight. Frederick had always been thorough, discreet and prompt. Xavier shouldn’t be thrown by this. He was expecting it. Only not today.

‘Go on.’ Expecting it or not, he wasn’t one to put off what had to be done.

‘There are ten women I have identified for your vetting. All fit the criteria you selected. They are between thirty and thirty-three, educated, never married nor associated with any scandalous behaviour. All have backgrounds suitable for a Queen of Maynet and of course are from Resleigh, as per the conditions of the treaty.’

Xavier’s eyes flicked to the sole photo that sat on his desk. A reminder, not that he needed one, of the importance of getting this right.

‘It’s been eight years, Xavier.’ Only the long-standing trust between them had Xavier biting back a reply that he could count. He’d been thankful for Frederick’s wise and steady counsel when he’d become king at twenty. Sixteen years later he still valued it although, as always, he made his own decisions. And despite Frederick being a little stooped over nowadays and his hair more grey than brown, his eyes still shone with intelligence and loyalty.

‘I’m aware of that,’ Xavier said.

‘It was an accident. A terrible, unfortunate thing to happen, which doesn’t alter the fact that you chose well last time and you will again.’

Xavier remained silent. He’d told no-one, not even Frederick the truth of what had occurred that wintry day eight years ago. And it would remain that way.

‘Or that with Max gone, you need an heir,’ Frederick continued.

‘I’m also aware of that.’

A wry smile pulled at his mouth. ‘You’re your own man, Xavier, you always have been. But there are some days you remind me so much of your grandfather.’

Xavier raised a questioning brow.

‘You play your cards close to your chest.’

An answering smile pulled at Xavier’s mouth. ‘I was taught by the best.’

Frederick laughed. ‘You were indeed.’

‘Thank you, Frederick. Leave the file on the table on your way out.’

‘Yes, of course. I’ll get that press release to you immediately and set up a meeting first thing tomorrow to discuss the amended schedule that will now include the princess.’ He hesitated and cleared his throat. ‘And if I may say so, choosing a bride sooner rather than later will go a long way to relieving any tension with Edgar.’

Xavier nodded and once alone, stood from behind the desk and ran his fingers across his name etched by dagger into its top. The deep grooves scraped into the oak followed the tradition of all those who had ruled before him, whose names ran above his own. He’d done the etching the day his reign had begun. The day he’d made a solemn promise that he would do whatever it took to serve and protect Maynet. To be the king that his grandfather had been and prepared him to be. And he had.

Once again he looked to the photo sitting atop the gleaming wooden surface at the tall, dark-haired woman smiling back at him. His wife. Suddenly the glamorous shot was superimposed with his final image of her. Lifeless, blood covering her face. Guilt burned a familiar path down the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face to erase it. He had a job to do and dwelling on things that couldn’t be changed was of no benefit. The country needed an heir. And he needed to provide it.

He turned and walked over to the table where Frederick had left the folder. Picking it up he scanned the contents. Ten women had been placed on the list. Women who fit the criteria Xavier had set for marriage. And now he had a comprehensive report on each of them. For an alliance marriage, a tradition of Maynetian royalty, one that he supported and had followed. Brides were chosen with the greatest of care, which brought mutual gain to both countries. Some may think that a cold-hearted bargain, yet marriage where expectations were laid out beat the havoc caused by love every time. He knew that. Like he knew that love was an excuse for people to behave badly, creating a trail of chaos in its name.

He flicked through the photos and for a moment a vision of Katerina on her wedding day flashed before him. Dressed in layers of some floaty white fabric looking adoringly at Max as the two of them had stood by the altar in the nation’s cathedral. She’d been young, over-awed and in love. What a disastrous combination.

He pushed the thought aside and focused on the matter at hand. His soon to be bride. She would be pragmatic like him and know his offer of respect, fidelity and protection far outweighed any notions of love.

Last time he thought he’d vetted carefully and had been clear on what he was offering. He’d realised his mistake when it was too late. His wife, despite all assurances, had fallen in love with him. What he’d offered in return wasn’t enough for her and disaster had followed. This time he would choose someone older, with more life experience. The very last thing Xavier wanted was a wife who was in love with him and wanted his heart in return.

***

Five nights later, Katerina planted a smile on her face as the long-standing charity benefactor, well known for her love of a good story, kept talking without seeming to draw a breath. Katerina shifted her weight to the other foot hoping to ease the shooting pain, except it was no better, in fact it was worse. Wondering how much longer she could hold out, she reminded herself that a good princess didn’t show pain, annoyance or boredom as much as they might want to.

Suddenly Katerina knew without having to turn her head that Xavier now stood beside her. A shift in the air, a whisper across her skin, something she’d never be able to articulate except at every stage during the evening she’d known where in the vast ballroom he’d been. It was like he was wearing a tracking device and the closer he got the more acute her awareness and anticipation. She blamed their discussion earlier that week when he’d informed her of Edgar’s unwanted proposal. It had created a strange edginess between them that she’d struggled to ignore at every one of their subsequent meetings to discuss the tour. An edginess that had no place in the month they would spend together, starting tomorrow.

‘Thank you, Raquel, your generosity as always is appreciated. Here let me escort you on your way out.’ Xavier’s deep voice rumbled in the space between them. Without missing a beat, he took the arm of a clearly thrilled Raquel and after a blessedly short goodbye to Katerina, walked her out of the ballroom.

Whooshing out a breath, Katerina willed her heartbeat to normalise as relief and disappointment battled for prominence at Xavier’s departure. Not that the evening had ended. Despite the countless royal events she’d successfully attended and hosted, not to mention organised, she couldn’t ever completely relax. There was always an edge of concern that something would go wrong or she’d make a mistake. So she planned, in minute detail, to prevent that from occurring. She would never let down Maynet, or its king. She scanned the room instead of giving in to her unease at the thought of her biggest test—the tour—with the king. Remnants of the night’s fundraising gala were clear to see. Empty tables, chairs and crystal glassware were illuminated by the chandeliers and countless candles. Flowers from the royal gardens filled vases, providing vibrant colour against the cream- and gold-coloured walls. Not sighting any lingering guests she caught the attention of the event manager and gave her command for the clean up to begin.

No longer having to pretend that agony hadn’t been her companion for most of the night and unable to make it to her suite in her current state Katerina, with time she didn’t have to spare, limped to the closest set of chairs lined up against the wall and gingerly sat down. A whimper escaped as she finally got off her feet for the first time in hours. Reaching down she raised the hem of her floor length navy gown and eased off her new silver stilettos. Another whimper escaped. Dropping both shoes to the floor she leant back against the velvet chair. Stretching out her matching silver topped toes she wriggled them trying to get the blood flowing again. Rubbing fingers against her temple she wished to be magically transported back to her rooms for a hot bath and twelve hours of sleep. What a fanciful thought. She didn’t have any time for sleep, she had a tour to prepare for. The limited amount of sleep she’d managed to fit in this past week had involved nightmares in which she made some catastrophic error during the tour. The nightmares were interspersed with hot sweaty dreams featuring the king, leaving her shaken and confused, not to mention woefully attuned to him.

A movement at the doorway caught her attention and as if her thoughts had conjured him, the king reappeared. Hoping he couldn’t read minds she straightened from her slouch, pulling her legs back under her dress and watched him as he made his way towards her. He wore a tuxedo, like every other man who attended tonight. Yet still he’d stood out, not only because he was the king. It was the way he wore it, the way it moulded and highlighted his tall, powerful body.