With Lyana’s help, I sat upright, adjusting my gown. “Do I get a say in this?”
“No.” Every man in the room answered in unison.
Lyana snickered, and I turned my glare on her. With a huff, I folded my arms, the movement slow to avoid tugging at my stitches.
Sainte dipped his chin. “I will do it.”
My glower narrowed. “I choose Urien,” I said, just to spite the men and their plans.
“You can’t.” Urien pushed off the doorframe, straightening. “If you did, the prince would claim Sainte and pit him against us.”
“Then what’s stopping Adastrus from claiming you? Wouldn’t the result be the same?”
“He would never pick me.” A dangerous glint sparked in Urien’s gaze, dark and menacing. “He learned that lesson before.”
“How ominous,” Lyana muttered.
“He poisoned him once,” Sainte ground out.
Urien scoffed, waving him off with a flippant gesture. “Rumors, rumors.”
Anderz cleared his throat, directing the conversation back to the topic at hand. “The Vahalant has to be willing. They would forfeit the possibility of familial ties and any titles or land they may have. They would offer their entire life.”
My mouth parted. “No.”
He had no family, and gods knew deep down I was jealous of that possibility. Yet, in all the desolate expanse of the Great Iceland, I would never shackle him with such an agreement.
“I am willing.”
“And I said no!” I shot back, looking to Anderz for help.
He watched me with that annoying calmness of his. “What is your reasoning, my petulant princess?”
“Deeply held religious beliefs.” I sniffed, lifting my chin.
Lyana cackled, and I’m pretty sure I heard Gilead choke on a laugh.
“As a Valahant, he would go where you go, sleep where you sleep—”
My gut twisted with nerves.
“—eat what you eat and drink what you drink. It was common practice for generations.”
“Back when we were all barbarians?” My voice pitched unnervingly high.
“Would you consider the prince regent anything less?”
“Ugh!” I spun, finding Lyana with a silent plea for help.
Her eyes opened wide in understanding, and she cleared her throat. Propping her chin on her folded hands, she batted her eyelashes at Anderz. “What if she happened to have romantic feelings for the Valahant?”
“Lyana!”
“In the past of course!”
Heat stung my cheeks as I hurled a pillow at her. Pain flared from the stitches in my side. I thanked the numbing cream for dulling the ache.
“Though I wouldn’t advise it, pleasure would not be a question of morality.”
