“I have something I would like all of you to hear, yet I will only say it once.”
That was another of her father’s sayings.
If people are tired by the sound of your voice, they no longer hear you.
These people had barely ever heard her speak a word. The commoners and court alike had only ever seen their princess in her father’s mountainous shadow, playing a part—they’d never heard her speak without cause. They hadn’t heard her father’s advice, meant for her ears alone.
She was going to make these words count and do everything in her power to make them listen. Giving them a single chance to hear what she had to say only made it more enticing.
The silence sat heavy in the mountain breeze. The entire mood of the arena had changed from sad but bored to the perfect posture of interest.
“As you know, the laws of the monarchy require the marriage of a female heir to secure the ruling powers of the Kingdom of Ardenia, as directed by the Sand and Sky. All that is required is for the Royal Council to reach an agreement with the most ideal suitor. A wedding, a new alliance, someone else to call king. It is an archaic law—one that must change. But, as every person in a position to vote for such a change would benefit by marrying me”—her eyes settled on the three royal families before her—“it will not.”
There wasn’t a pin drop in the pause. Every ear was trained to Amarande and the dais. The princess lifted her eyes to the faces of her citizens, leaning forward from the stadium seating.
“Therefore, as your rightful ruler and the last remaining blood of King Sendoa, I have a requirement as well: my consent.” At this, she paused again, testing the silence. “Hear me now: I will not allow the Royal Council to make this choice for me. Any marriage contract will require my signature to be valid.”
Her words ringed around the arena, repeated on shocked lips. Beside her, Renard’s hand dropped.
“You can’t be serious,” he whispered, incredulous smirk pinned to one corner of his lips—a speck of humanity coming to the manicured surface. It was a whisper, but the crowd was on high alert now and nearly everyone heard it, the murmurs stopping mid-sentence.
When Renard realized he’d been caught, the prince turned on the manufactured charm, smirk slipping into a grin, blue eyes glinting in the full sun.
“We are very serious in the Kingdom of Ardenia, Your Highness.” Amarande gave him a smile that was as sharp as an aragonite cave flower—cutting, hard, and beautiful. “My father did not raise me to settle; he raised me to rule. And if I must have a man for that, I demand a partner who cares as much for the Kingdom of Ardenia and its people as I do. I won’t approve of less. No signature—no consent, no contract, no wedding.” She looked out to the crowd in the stands—her people, not the sycophants closest to the dais. “Each one of you is my witness and we must make it so.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Princess,” the prince said with an exasperated little laugh. The kind men give women as a way of closing doors that were only very narrowly open in the first place.
And that was his mistake.
In a flash, the princess unsheathed Renard’s sword and had the tip pressed to his sternum before he could even react, that dumb little laugh still puffing its way out into the arena air.
The crowd gasped, the royal guard of Pyrenee half-rising in their seats, reflexes steering their hands to their scabbards. DowagerQueen Inés was completely out of her seat, a gold-bangled arm thrust to the side to bar their attack, ordering their stillness.
These people had most likely never heard Amarande speak, and they had certainly never seen the girl Sendoa crafted with hours in the yard, covered in dust and bruises and blood. But today they would see exactly who she was.
Renard kept his cool, looking amused, but Amarande was close enough to witness the blood draining from his face. The miscalculation in the cut of his shoulders. She’d embarrassed him by stealing his weapon as easily as he hoped to steal Ardenia’s throne. Amarande bared her teeth into something that would look like a smile to everyone but him.
“I am not ridiculous; I am discerning. I will not settle and neither will my people.”
Silence broke as a clamor arose from the commoners in the stands, the applause drowning out the thunking of the princess’s heart as she stood there, eyes locked upon Renard. The Ardenian royal party on the arena floor—the council, Koldo and her men and women—were forced to applaud as well, though Satordi in particular looked like a marionette, forced into action.
Amarande lowered the sword and again addressed the crowd. “My requirement stands as my contract to the good, strong people of Ardenia. I will not sell you to the highest bidder. I will not allow a usurper to ruin this land with a gold band and some words for the sake oftradition.My father had many chances to join his kingdom with another while he was alive and he didn’t, for the best of Ardenia.” She looked Dowager Queen Inés dead in the eye as she spoke—made sure the older woman knew the princess was aware of the marriage proposals she’d lobbed at her father before her husband’s body was even cold. “And I pledge to my people that I will do the same.”
With this, she presented the long sword back to Renard—gilded handle first, emeralds glinting a deep green in the cuttingsun. He reached out slowly to grab it, as if it were a trick, as if he’d lose his arm as easily as he’d lost the weapon in the first place. Amarande had serious doubts he’d know how to use that sword if he managed to keep it in his possession.
The princess’s eyes flashed to the ruthless old Domingu, whose expression had settled into one of calculation.
“Now I am finished.”
CHAPTER
5
INthe moments after the funeral, Amarande was whisked away by the Royal Council, her plea heard, conversations to be had. In Luca’s estimation, she’d been perfect—confident, fierce, lovely.
Stealing Renard’s sword had been a nice touch. Words were worth much, but pressing a man’s own blade to his chest?
A point made indeed.
