Page 35 of Kneel Before Me

Daphne dared to smile. Ella always made her feel better and vice versa. Neither of them had partners in their lives; they had to be that for each other. And Daphne wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So if you’re not having sex until you’re in love…” Ella began, tilting her head in contemplation. “I guess you’re not going to fuck the prince either.”

Daphne thought about the conversation she’d had with Maximus—the deal they’d struck. “That’s the plan.”

“Hm.”

“Hm? That’s all you have to say?”

Ella shrugged, her mouth quirking up at the corner. “I’m just imagining Benjamin’s face if you won the competition. You’d be queen, and he’d be serving you drinks on a tray.”

Daphne sighed. It was a tempting scenario, to be sure. But it wasn’t worth straying from her goal. If everything went to plan, there would be no wedding. “Who would want to be queen anyway?” she said. “It’s just a bunch of rules and dinner parties and expectations and itchy outfits. Sounds terrible to me.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t pretend you’re too good to want to be queen. Every woman wants that. And you may not want to admit it, but the prince is hot too.”

Daphne stared down at her beer. She pictured Maximus’s slim frame, his blond hair. She saw the visage of the royals she’d been taught her whole life to worship—the sharp cheekbones and the gold incisors. She saw power. Then she remembered who he really was. The royals were not people to be admired or revered—they were people to be doubted and criticized. There weren’t enough attractive qualities he could possess that would erase that. To soften toward Maximus would be to think uncritically. And Daphne could never do that. Maximus was attractive, it was true. But he paled in comparison to the beautiful creature she’d met in the caves. Even now, with the bustle of the Horseman around her, Daphne could only think of one face, and it wasn’t the prince’s. She thought about Kronos’s searing eyes, golden and shining in the darkness. She wished she were looking into those eyes right now.

“The prince is…complicated. I don’t know what to think of him.”

“Complicated? How can someone who grew up in a castle be complicated? He’s had everything he’s ever wanted. He’s probably spoiled rotten.”

Again, Daphne did not reply. There was one thing Maximus wanted, and he would never have it again. Perhaps he had been spoiled before Lilibet, but not after. Her death had changed him. Perhaps that kind of tragedy had made him a different person, and it was that person who had proposed an arrangement with Daphne tonight.

“Enough about me,” she said, opting to change the subject. “Are you ready to watch the Showing?”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Please. I’d rather stick a fork in my eye than watch the Showing.”

Daphne felt the same. Unfortunately for her, she would be participating in the Showing. It was a time-honored tradition in which all eligible women who took part in the competition demonstrated their commitment to the prince by sleeping overnight in the town square. Any contender who didn’t make it until dawn was automatically eliminated. It was a way to show your dedication to the prince. It was antiquated, ridiculous, and most important of all, freezing. Yet it was also important. The Showing was a pivotal event; it would allow the prince to publicly cast his favor. Traditionally, everyone in the village watched, which included Ella. At least Daphne would have a friend there.

“How do you think I feel?” she shot back.

“Weak with anticipation, no doubt.”

Daphne snorted. “If I were dumber, perhaps.”

“Unfortunately, you are burdened by critical thought.”

“Unfortunately, you are right.”

“A tragedy, truly.”

“Of the worst sort.”

“Is there a cure?”

“Not that I’ve found.”

“Shame.”

“Shame,” Daphne agreed. “But we soldier on.”

“Indeed we do.”

Her best friend stood, gathering her coat in her arms. “I’ve got to get to Gabe. Will I see you soon?”