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That struck him as disingenuous, but he wrestled his temper into place, locked up tight inside him.
“It will take place in two days’ time, at the first holiday ball of the season.” She didn’t react to that, so he carried on with his talking points. “We will discuss our whirlwind relationship and how it was a bright light during the dark days before and after my father’s death. We will talk about hope, and a new dawn, not only for ourselves, but for Idylla. As is tradition, we will be married six weeks from the first ball, on Christmas Eve, captivating the hearts and minds of not only the kingdom, but the world. Yet as spectacular as our wedding will be, as is customary, our marriage will be reserved. Competent.”
“And sane,” she chimed in. And smiled when he lifted a brow at her, though he rather thought the curve of her lips had an edge to it. That was unexpected. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. But I have heard your speeches.”
Was that a slap at him? He shoved it aside. “Excellent. Then you already know how things will go.”
“I admire your...” She paused.“...certainty.”
“I am certain,” Orion said quietly. “Because I will make it so.”
“How...monocratic.”
“Indeed. As I am the monarch.” He waited for her to swallow, hard. “I will marry you, Lady Calista, because I gave my word that I would. I will make you my queen and consort, because that is the bargain your father made with mine. But hear me.”
And this time, she only stared back at him mutely. No clever comments at the ready.
“I will tolerate no scandals,” he told her. “And I understand that this might be hard for you, as scandals are your stock in trade.” He saw something flash in her eyes like the sea, but she only pressed her lips into a firm line. “But there will be no anonymous stories from this palace. There will be no salacious insider exposés. If you cannot comply with this requirement, I am sorry to tell you that you will find our marriage...challenging.”
“‘Challenging?’” Her voice was huskier than before. “What, precisely, does ‘challenging’ mean?”
He allowed himself a faint smile. “I will take a page from kings of old,” he told her, the vow of it in his voice. He felt certain she could hear it. “If you defy me I will install you in Castle Crag.”
“Castle Crag.” She blinked. “You don’t meanCastle Crag.”
“I have never meant anything more.”
“Castle Crag is in the middle of the Aegean.” She stared at him, her eyes widening at whatever she saw. “It’s a slab of rock with an ancient fortress on it. I don’t think it has electricity. It’s aprison.”
“That is precisely why any number of my ancestors preferred to keep their wives and assorted other dissidents there,” Orion said, his voice even and his gaze hard on hers. “I plan to rule as a progressive king, Lady Calista. But when it comes to the queen I was blackmailed into accepting, know this. Where you are concerned, you can expect me to be purely medieval.”
CHAPTER TWO
CALISTASKYROSCOULDhave gone her whole life without ever meeting the King of Idylla.
That would have been her preference, in fact, because she liked the royal family well enough—but only in a distant sense. As pomp, circumstance, and background noise to the real work that went on in the island kingdom.
But since when had her father ever taken her preferences into account?
She stared at the man before her. Because he was a man, she reminded herself. A man who happened to be a king, sure. But no matter how her mother fluttered around her—insisting that she dress like Idylla’s answer to one of those overexposed British princesses—or her father growled at her about hisagenda, Calista’s goals did not involve palace intrigue. Or calling herself queen of anything, for that matter, no matter how many fancy dresses might be involved.
Her goals had always been simple.
Protect her sister. Neutralize her parents. And while she was at it, take over Skyros Media, oust her father from the board, and control her own destiny, at last.
It was all very simple indeed, if not as easy as she’d hoped when she’d started down this path years ago. Regardless, she was so close now. So close she could taste it. She had every reason to believe Skyros Media would be hers by the end of the year.
At last.
Her father had come to her when the news of evil old King Max’s death had reached him, puffed up with malicious joy that he would be installing his eldest daughter in the palace at last.
Not that Aristotle Skyros called her hiseldestdaughter. He liked to refer to her as hisonlydaughter, which made Melody laugh but was one more reason Calista loathed him.
For a moment, she’d forgotten to pretend that she wanted the things he did, her usual gambit when dealing with him. For a moment, she’d forgotten that she wasn’t out of the woods just yet.
“Not this betrothal nonsense again,” she’d said, blinking at him over a mountain of paperwork on her desk in Skyros Media headquarters, there in the center of the royal city that spread out in a crescent below the palace and reminded her daily that she could endure as it had. “You can’t be serious.”
That had been a mistake. She hadn’t been thinking, too focused on how close she was to the end result she’d been pushing for all this time. Her entire life, it seemed—but she hadn’t made it there yet.
