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“What?” I ask.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Your Highness.”
“I want to know what it’s about, Margo.”
“It’s Xavier X, Your Highness. I think it’s time we get the police involved. He used another site and his article already has over three hundred thousand reads and continues to climb.”
Margo has gone to battle with that particular social influencer a few times already. The last was when he had assumed wrongly that I had eloped with my bodyguard to a secret island and was having sex on the beach instead of taking a much-needed holiday to rest up before I took on my role as Queen.
That was the story Margo had spun according to the Strohamden rule book for its monarch, in case said monarch was involved in something nefarious, like a kidnapping. Public appearance is key under all circumstances.
But in fact, Kayne and I had been kidnapped by a mad man whose ego had made him psychotic.
Roger Thompson, the Duke of Burkings’ son and the man I was supposed to have married is thankfully dead. I ignore all the articles claiming his death as tragic when he drowned during a boating adventure. That is not how he died.
But that chapter of our lives is over.
I don’t have an ounce of sympathy for him. The thought of Roger and everything he did to me, to Kayne has been erased from my mind. He’s been eradicated from my thoughts, my life as if he never existed.
The scars he left on my body are replaced by ones left by Kayne, my husband. To this day I still think of all the many moments Kayne reclaimed my body as his once again.
And that’s what’s made me stronger.
“Read it to me,” I tell Margo, keeping my head still while Rachelle finishes up my eye makeup.
“Your Highness, it’s pure gossip as usual—”
“Read it to me, Margo,” I say in my imperial voice. Margo takes a deep breath and starts.
“Hello, Quidnuncs… I don’t even know what that means,” she says exasperated.
“Someone who’s inquisitive or likes to gossip or to hear gossip,” I say automatically. It’s a clever choice of word I think to myself.
“Well, that explains everything,” Margo harrumphs.
“Carry on,” I tell her.
“It’s your BFF, Xavier X here. Bringing you the latest, tastiest tattles from the royal house. Remember I’m only silenced when I speak the truth. So let's see if this stays up or not. I have some really juicy details and pictures to back up my claims and see if I’m wrong.
What a month we’ve had. A coronation which if it weren’t for the fact we get to gaze fondly on our new queen would have been as boring as fuck. Am I right? One word of advice to Her Highness’ stylist. I would have gone with a pair of Louboutins instead of the conservative white lace ensemble. Our queen is young and smart and a sexy siren to boot.”
I see Margo grind her teeth as she takes the dig at her fashion sense personally. I allow myself a small smile before she carries on.
“And of course the wedding of the century. I called it, didn’t I? Say I was right. A love match made in the stars. Queen Sofia and the delectable, illegally gorgeous, and sexy as sin bodyguard, Kayne Langley.
Queen Sofia looked ethereal in her wedding gown, a vision of class, extraordinary beauty, and infectious radiance. Olaf Vinter outdid himself in designing a gown meant for a queen who is not only young and fashionable but highly intelligent and powerful as well. Olaf? That dress has put you on the map, my friend.
And oooh, let’s talk about the groom. Sigh. Can there ever have been a better match for our darling royal? The answer is no. Bodyguard Kayne Langley in my eyes is the only man for our precious Queen Sophia.
But did you know the hopelessly sexy, over six feet tall blond sex god is also a…”Margo pauses here, swallows some air, and then continues, “also a Dom. I mean it goes without saying, he screams alpha from his very pores. Dark, silent, with that layer of glower that melts hearts, or scares them away for the girls who can’t handle him. But the man is a Dominant. Hear me out. I have pictures to prove it,” Margo sighs. “There are some images of the coronation and the wedding-”
“What else does he say,” I ask, hoping my voice is still firm and steady.
“See that slight bit of redness on our queen's throat? I personally know where that kind of sexy scaring can come from. See our queen's wrists? Her ankles? I’m not making things up. But it’s also in the way he looks at our queen, the way he touches her. Double sigh. What a man. Queen Sophia might rule the whole of Strohamden, but Kayne Langley who will remain without a royal title per his choice rules her body. Mark my words. Xavier X out.”
A hot flush settles in my cheeks as I try to maintain a straight face. Neither Rachelle nor Margo dares to look at me. It’s almost comical.
I don’t ask to see the images. I can tell without looking that I maybe hadn’t covered up the scars on my throat as well as I should have before Rachelle got me.
