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He looked around in disbelief at the rest of the entourage following me. “Head of Security, Your Majesty.”
I looked him up and down while someone brought me a coffee and muffin. “Not for long,” I replied before leaving him as he gaped in the middle of an archway.
I shoved the chocolate muffin into my mouth and continued my trek across the castle. Some more people walked up to me, asking me to sign something, approve something else, or listen to a complaint.
“We need to address the rumors that Christine is pregnant…”
“Lord Alton needs to discuss the new interstate being built by his second summer home.”
“I need to confirm your attendance for the diplomat dinner with the men from Cherish, Your Majesty. Have you had time to look over the treaty?”
“The court is demanding an emergency session to discuss your formal coronation..”
One voice and their demands stuck out the most, though. “The Lord Bishop of St. Idyll, Nathan Croft, is demanding an audience with you, sir. He is claiming to dispute your marriage with Lady Christine as his family is claiming they had made arrangements for her hand three years ago,” Harold, one of the liaisons between the court and Crown stuttered. I stopped walking and his pudgy face turned beet red.
“What did you just say?”
“The Lord Bishop of—”
“Stop with the bloody titles and give me a name.”
He let out a shudder. “Nathan Croft, Your Majesty. Younger brother of the late Lord Geralt.”
I crushed what was left of the muffin in my fist. “And what does he want?”
Harold cringed. “He claims your father arranged a marriage between Lord Geralt and Lady Christine. An alliance of sorts. He would like to petition the court. He says as the remaining House of St. Idyll heir, he rightfully has claim to her.”
Fury like nothing I’d ever experienced in my life burned my veins. My heart was practically threatening to beat out of my chest. He wanted to claim her? I might not have been able to protect her three years ago, but I damn well would let this asshole know he couldn’t have her.
I stopped walking and clenched my fist, the urge to hit something overwhelming me. “You can tell Nathan fucking Croft that he can rightfully shove a brick up his ass. The only person who has a claim to Christine is herself.” I turned to Adonis, my assistant. “Get me Atticus on the phone. Now.”
Adonis fumbled with the cell phone and handed it to me, Atticus’s phone already ringing. I pressed it against my ear as Harold ran off. I couldn’t barely function, my anger so potent that it made me dizzy. What if he did have a claim? What if they knew? “Yes, Your Majesty?” Atticus answered with a yawn. “Did you wake up at a whorehouse somewhere and need me to pick you up?”
I growled. “Shut the fuck up and listen to me. I need you to pull every bit of information on Nathan Croft using your resources.”
Atticus went quiet for a moment, likely sensing the seriousness of my words. “Lord Geralt’s brother?”
I looked at the people crowding me and suddenly felt overwhelmed. Everyone was too close. Their breathing too loud. It was all too fucking much.
Their eyes were trained on me, eavesdropping on my call so they could discuss it later. I just wanted to be alone. “Yes. I want to know every dirty secret he’s got. And I might need one of your men to pay him a visit.”
He scoffed. “You want one of my men to visit him? Do you know what you’re asking?”
“It’s Christine, Atticus.”
Atticus breathed into the phone receiver. “What’s going on? Is she in danger?”
“Do what I asked. Find out information on him. I’ll keep in touch.”
I hung up on him and tossed the cell phone at Adonis. He caught it midair with a breezy, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
I spun around and faced the crowd of ten people still following me, the walls seemingly closing in as I stared at their demanding, cautious expressions.
“Where the fuck is Leo?” I snapped, my breathing growing heavy. Was the room spinning?
Adonis spoke up. “With Lady Christine, sir.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “Good. Good.”
