AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He dismissed the strange, almost poetic notion and focused on this woman he was bound to marry, but that was no better. Because she was even prettier than the last time he’d seen her, which should not have been possible. And even though he knew now that thesomethingabout her he’d been unable to name on the balcony two days ago was the same sort of malice her father wore visibly on his skin, his body didn’t know the difference. Tonight she wore a dramatic gown, a dress that sparkled and made her look exactly like a girl with a princess fantasy only he could make come true, when he now knew she was nothing of the kind.
Did he want that kind of woman? Wrapped up in some kind of a fairy tale when the reality of royal life was far less shiny and sweet? Before meeting Calista, Orion would have sworn he did not. But that was before she had haunted him, simply by looking at him as ifshewas in control of things.
She smirked at him again now, which he already both detested and found sent a heat spiraling deep into him.
Making him ache anew.
“I take it that when you’re a king, you don’t have to observe typical first-date protocols. Like picking a girl up at her own house, rather than forcing her to traipse all the way to the palace to act overawed and under-royal.”
That was her greeting to her future husband, lord and king.
Orion could not have said why it was he wanted to smile.
“Kings do not go on first dates, Lady Calista,” he said. Forbiddingly. “Nor do they dance attendance at the front doors of their lessers. The nation would revolt at the very idea.”
And he enjoyed that too much, maybe. Because judging by their reactions, neither Skyros nor his daughter considered themselvesless thananything—and particularly not less than their king.
But it was Skyros’s wife who surprised Orion the most. She was the one who’d dropped into a spine-crackingly low curtsy at the sight of him. She rose now, long after she’d descended, her carriage painfully erect. And she glared at her husband and daughter in turn.
“We do not treat the King of Idylla with disrespect,” she hissed. “Weknow our duty.”
“Spare me the royalist rantings, Appollonia,” Aristotle growled. But even so, he performed a perfunctory bow, almost as if he worried someone might be hid behind the paintings, recording the meeting. Then, to Orion’s astonishment, Calista curtsied, too.
But when she rose, she fixed Orion with her own fierce glare. As if she was daring him to comment on the fact that her mother still held sway over her behavior. At least in public.
He tucked that away like a small, handy knife in his boot—the kind Griffin carried about with him ever since his time in the military.
“I hope you’re both prepared for this tonight,” Aristotle said then, puffing himself up with his usual self-importance, his beady eyes all over Orion as if he was not a king, but a piece of meat for the carving. “Everybody loves a royal love story and the two of you need to sell it.”
Orion did not dignify that with a response. Particularly when the response he had in mind involved the Royal Guard.
“Papa.” To his surprise, the smirk on Calista’s lips changed to a far more engaging smile when she aimed it at her father, though Orion found he believed it less. “This isn’t a love story. You know that.”
“It doesn’t matter what itis,” Aristotle retorted, with a laugh that made him seem even oilier than before. “No one cares about what’s real, Calista. What matters is what I can sell.”
And he kept his gaze fixed on Orion on the off chance he was confused as to who was the greater commodity here.
Odious, appalling man.
Soon to be your father-in-law, a dark voice in him intoned.
It was unbearable.
“Thank you,” Orion said. With all the authority in him. “I would now like a few moments alone with Lady Calista, please.”
And he inclined his head in a manner that made it clear he was not making a request.
Aristotle grumbled, but his wife managed to somehow genuflect while removing herself from the room, backward. A feat that would have impressed Orion, but then the door closed behind Aristotle and Appollonia Skyros.
Leaving just the two of them in the room. Orion and Calista.
He should not have let that simple fact work its way beneath his skin, all heat and need.
The way she did, too, doing nothing more than standing there looking like a proper royal princess, save for the smirk on her clever mouth and the challenge in her aquamarine gaze.
He reminded himself that he was meant to be deeply appalled, but she was wearing a sweeping, romantic gown and he wanted to put his hands on her more than he should have wanted anything that in no way benefited his kingdom, and he couldn’t quite make himself believe that he wasappalledat all.
“Do you have more demands for me to refuse?” Calista asked. And Orion really should have found himself sickened by the tone she used. So disrespectful. So patently challenging. So invigorating, if he was honest, after a day crammed full of deadly dull policy advisers and pompous cabinet ministers. “That sounds like fun to me.”
