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What she, as Queen, haddecreedMelodywoulddo, that was.
“You can’t,” her sister had replied. “If you go home again he will ship you off to one of those institutions he’s been threatening you with for years. It might as well be a prison, Melody! And it’s unlikely that he will ever let you out again. Do you hear me?”
“My ears work perfectly well, Calista. As I think you know.”
But the new Queen had made up her mind.
That was how Melody had found herself in the arms of Prince Griffin, Idylla’s so-calledcharming rogueas he led her in an excruciatingly formal and horrificallylongdance in the Grand Ballroom of the palace.
Prince Griffin, who was forgiven his many sins and trespasses in the style of his father because he was considereddelightful,for reasons unclear to Melody.
Prince Griffin, who had declared he planned to turn over a new leaf to better support his brother back during coronation season, but had taken his sweet time in the turning.
Prince Griffin,her new assassination target.
And to her dismay, as of an hour or so ago, her husband.
Melody had considered knifing him in the back at the altar, for the poetry of it all, but Prince Griffin—renowned across the land for his cavorting about with any and all women, his cheerful debauchery, and his disinterest in the usual charitable pursuits of royalty that were usually erected to cover up the consequences of the first two—was under the impression that he was Melody’s...protector.
She would have been only too happy to disabuse him of this notion. But that, too, had been forbidden.
By yet another royal decree.
“Don’t be absurd,” Melody had said,while she’d stood gamely stillin another of the palace’s innumerable salons. She’d been subjecting herselfto a phalanx of dressmakers, all of whom poked and prodded and pinnedher into a dress she had not wanted to wear at all, and certainly not after the extraordinarily formal Christmas lunch she’d eaten her way through.“I have no need or desirefor protection. Prince Griffin’s or anyone else’s.”
Her sister and her new husband had been there,lounging aboutin theirpost-Christmasluncheon haze. And perhaps post–private time haze as well, though Melody knew her supposedly hard-as-nails, professional sister was enormously missish about such things. At least to Melody.
As if her eyes were the not the only thing that did not function as expected.
Everything smelled sugary and sweet,floating up toward the high ceilings.And over the mutterings of the vicious dressmakers and their sharp, cruel pins she could hear various rustles from the settee the King and his new Queen sat upon. Telling herthere was a lot oftouching.Perhaps more touching than had been seen in the palace for some time.
“I know you don’t need any protection,”Calista had replied, but in a tone of voice thatsuggested to Melody that her sister was rolling her eyes.“But it’s not about you, you see.”
“The forcedweddingI want no part ofis not about me?”Melody asked. Rhetorically, obviously. “And here I thoughtit was meant to answer my dreams of becoming a princess at last. Not a dream I’ve ever had, to be clear.”
She heard her sister sigh. She heard the King shift position.
Orion was a different order of man than Melody’s father. Or his own father, come to that, or the country could never have embraced him. Not after the things Terrible King Max had done and laughed about when they’d turned up in the tabloids, as they inevitably did.That Orion was fully in control of himself—and therefore everything else—was palpable.Comforting in a king.
As someone who’d spent her entire life learning how to control herself in various ways, physical and mental and more, Melody was forced to admire him.
“Your sister has regaled me with tales of your abilities,”Orion had said then. Melody had felt the astonishing urge to offer him the appropriate obeisance. Not that she could withso many people around her, pinning and prodding and demanding she remain still.She was surprised she even had the urge to drop a curtsy, but there it was. The first timein her wholelife she’dactually feltdecidedly patriotic. “And I’m delighted that my brother will take such a remarkablewoman as his bride. But you must understand something about Griffin.”
Melody had felt certain that she understood Prince Griffinall too well. The spare had not followed in the footsteps of the heir. Griffin had always preferred gambling halls, the beds of unsuitable women, and any other form of debauchery available to him. And as a royal prince, there was very little that wasnotavailable to him. He was not the sort of man who would requireworkto figure out. Melody had been bored of him and his high-profile antics long before she’d ever met him.
This wassomething she would havesaidhappily to her sister. But Orion was not only the King,he was Griffin’s brother.So, uncharacteristically,she’d remained politely silent.
“He has always played a certain role, particularly with women,” said the King, and somehow, Melody had kept herself from letting out an inelegant snort.A certain rolewas one way to describe an unrepentant libertine who had spent the better part of his life knee-deep in conquests.“But with you,he is...different.”
This was true, but not for the reasons Orion likely imagined. It had always amused Melody to cringe about and act as if she might crumble to dust if someone paid attention to her. It gave her great satisfaction to allow people she could easily have maimed to fawn all over her and treat her as if she was too damaged to sit without assistance,
In other words, she’d long enjoyed acting the part of damaged goods.
The first time she’d met Prince Griffin, it had been second nature to act as if his mere presence was enough to give her the vapors. As if her blindness made her timid and she could do nothing but quail and cower.
Melody did so enjoy being underestimated.
Until now.
