Page 17 of To Save a Kingdom

The whiskey burned as it went down.

Whatever Zadé saw in drinking copious amounts of alcohol was beyond Aliya. The stuff was vile.

“What do you want, father?” He said nothing as she stalked over to him, making no move to vacate her chair. Stopping at the edge of the desk when she was close enough he had to crane his neck back to meet her gaze, she crossed her arms and stared him down.

If he wanted to play these power games, she would, too.

The muscles in his neck bobbed with a hard swallow as he laid the trade agreement he’d been pretending to review back on the stack of parchments.

Pouring the second half of the drink down her throat, she set the glass down with more force than necessary and glanced pointedly at the two chairs on the other side of the desk. “If you have something to say to me, I think you’ll find it much more comfortable in one of the other seats.”

Narrowing his eyes, he asked, “You’re not going to offer me a beverage?”

“You’re an adult. Get it yourself.” The last thing she would do was bow to him. “I’m not going to play power games with you. Say your piece or get out. Your choice.”

Walter froze for several heartbeats before he frowned, cleared his throat, and heaved to his feet. Helping himself to the whiskey, he poured a full glass.

Aliya sat in her proper place with a mental exhalation, bracing herself for whatever he had to say. The sooner he got on with it, the faster he would leave her alone.

Taking a sip, he settled in one of the chairs on the correct side of her desk with the same dramatic sigh he always exhaled when disappointed in her.

Meeting his gaze, she ignored the darkness in his eyes. “What can I do for you?” Her voice had a hardened edge to it that was only matched by her headache and sheer level of exhaustion. The day had already been long, and it was only going to get worse.

“Hmm.” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “I’m impressed with the way you tackled the council this morning. You handled them like a queen should.”

Blinking at the unexpected compliment, she scoured her recent memories for the last time he’d given her such a thing and came up blank. “Thank you.”

He smirked at her bewildered expression.

She schooled her face into the generic bored countenance most nobles mastered before puberty. The bastard had complimented her just to throw her off balance. She resisted the urge to rub her fingers between her eyebrows in a futile attempt to erase the wrinkles that were no doubt forming as they spoke.

Taking a pointed sip, the baron cleared his throat. “Which is why I wanted to talk to you about another aspect of royalty. One even more important than ruling.” He quit swirling the liquid in his glass and turned his full focus on her.

Aliya fought to not shift her weight. This wouldn’t be pleasant. “Oh?” As if he would know what was important as a monarch. While she couldn’t deny his drive for power, as evidenced by the fact he’d worked his way up from the son of a fishmonger to the landed gentry, he had never been, nor would he ever be, royal.

He narrowed his eyes. “Dynasty. Succession. Heirs.”

Heart skipping a beat, she blinked, thoughts screeching to a halt as the sound of nails over slate reverberated in her ears. Opening her mouth, she paused, then closed it. Swallowing past her dry throat, she tried again. “I have been queen for all of four days, and you already want to talk to me about heirs?” She shook her head. “Not like it’s any of your business, but I need to secure my throne before I start worrying about that.”

“No! You’re wrong.”

The vehemence in his tone caught her off guard more than his compliment had. She jumped, her hand going to her chest to rest above her racing heart. “What?”

Setting the half-empty glass of whiskey next to hers, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the chair’s armrests. Intent eyes met hers. “The surest way to shore up your position, to ensure you remain in power is to provide the realm the security of heirs. Preferably at least three.”

“Three?” Shaking her head, she forced back a chuckle. “Boy, you don’t waste time, do you? Shall I birth them back-to-back, or would you prefer triplets so you have all three at once?” Here she was, worried the hard-negotiated truce with the elves, and the resulting trade agreements, were about to crumble to dust around her, and he was already planning who would bed her at day’s end.

“You can’t afford to dawdle, daughter.”

“I’m aware you don’t like Elessan—”

Waving his hand, he cut her off. “This isn’t about the elf. Keep your side piece if that’s where your heart lies. I don’t care. But your court will not accept a half breed as heir. Even you have to see that.”

Wait, he didn’t care if she kept a mister?

“In case you didn’t notice,” he growled, “your kingdom is bankrupt and on the brink of a famine.”

Well, yes. Elessan had informed her of such after they’d dispatched Malkov. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do, negotiating with the elves and the dwarves? Exchanging Yuletide pleasantries?”