Page 30 of Sky’s Edge

“Great museums,” he continued. “There are four large ones dedicated solely to art.”

In Nocturn, there were only three.

And art was my thing. My gig. My passion. My raison d’etre.

I wasn’t a producer of it.

I was a consumer. A curator. A connoisseur. A devotee of it.

Every time I went to Abyssinia, one of the first things I did was go to one of their art museums. It was like a pilgrimage.

I kept at him.

“My family is here. My friends are here.”

“And not only you, but one of your friends has access to soni-routes. You can go to Nocturn for lunch, if you wish, and she can come here.”

He was driving me crazy, having an answer for everything.

“Okay then,”—I sat on the tufted bench that was in my closet—“why would you want to marry a female who doesn’t want to marry you?”

“I believe I explained why.”

“Um…no, you did not,” I refuted.

“I did, but I’ll reiterate. Outside of the political reasons, which are important, you’re beautiful. Stylish. Smart. You excel in your field. And I have enough people kissing my ass. That happened even before I became king. You don’t do that. It’s refreshing. I need a partner who will call me on my shit. I need a partner who won’t be afraid of telling me I’m heading in the wrong direction. I need a partner who’s an equal.”

“I’m not your equal. You’re royal.”

“And you will be crowned queen, sitting at my side, when I’m crowned king. I’m already king, that part is ceremonial. That said, there will be no mistaking, when it happens, then throughout history, that we reign side by side. And you will be at my side for the rest of my life, Catla. You will not be removed. You will not be replaced. This is not a knee-jerk response to the troll attack. I considered this from the moment I met you and you didn’t pant all over me and act like a sycophant. But everything I’ve learned since then, and every interaction I’ve had with you, solidifies my understanding I made an excellent choice.”

“It’s infuriating that you have an answer for everything,” I snapped.

“I do because there are answers. We suit.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do.”

“You don’t even know me!” My voice was rising.

And his voice was vibrating when he stated, “I grew up with a queen. Do you not think I know a female who will be a good one when I meet her?”

Since we were back to his mother, I decided not to respond.

“You were born to rule, Catla,” he said, and now his tone brooked no argument. “You don’t know it yet, but you will. If you open up an infinitesimal part of your mind to the possibility of us, it’ll come crashing in. I promise you.”

“What isn’t in question is whether you believe this should happen or not,” I retorted. “What’s in question is how this is coming about. I mean, have you ever heard of asking a female out to dinner?”

“This is where being who I am comes in handy,” he fired back. “Because, yes, I want to have dinner with you. I want to share many meals with you. I want to get to know you. But above all, since the minute I saw you, I’ve wanted very badly to fuck you. And fortunately for me, this means I can cut through that bullshit and get right to the good stuff.”

And there it was again.

He was (maybe) getting to me.

Then he was a jerk.

“You are not to be believed,” I bit.