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“Long live the king! Long live the king!”
I wondered if they were paid actors.
Victoria, the royal publicist, paced in front of me, a notebook in her hands. Her knuckles were white from how hard she clutched it. “The Military Games are a longstanding tradition in the kingdom of Aldrich,” she began.
I knew this but didn’t bother to remind her. In spite of the fact that the woman was stressed to the point of exhaustion, talking seemed to calm her down. It was impossible for me to blame her for being high-strung. In the past few weeks, the Crown had experienced a number of events, including a funeral, an engagement, and an assassination attempt.
The Military Games used to be one of my favorite events. When we were young, August and I used to go every year. The competition was a fun opportunity for members of the royal guard to demonstrate their toxic masculinity and compete for a gold medal. In the past, I enjoyed the thrill of it, but now it just felt like another obligation. A week had passed since my engagement dress fitting with Atticus, and now August and I were standing here, ready to put on the show of our lives. “It’s very important that you both look in love,” Victoria added, giving us both pointed stares.
August huffed beside me. I’d only seen him a couple of times this week. He was busy trying to stop rumors about the rebellion in its tracks, putting on a display of strength, and navigating the less than favorable headlines. “I get it, Victoria,” he gritted.
She ignored his aggravated tone and continued speaking. “Sixty percent of citizens polled agree that Christine should have the right to pick her own husband. The other forty percent think that she should honor the arrangement King Frederick made with Lord Geralt.” She flipped through her notebook, and my stomach flipped. Seeing that headline had ruined my lunch. I hated that Lord Nathan was insistent on this marriage. I knew it was just a plot to gain power—most lords were always scheming—but it still made me nervous. August had assured me that I had nothing to worry about, but I still felt a sense of unease. I wanted to stay as far away from that man as possible. “We want to lean into the idea that what’s best for the country—what’s best for Christine—is this marriage. You need to look doting and kind, but also stern. This event is meant to display your strength, Augustus. So look confident, in love, but also in control.”
August’s knuckles brushed against mine. “You make it sound so easy,” he scoffed.
I bit the inside of my cheek, holding back a chuckle. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be here. “Your Majesty, you’ll be announcing the winner,” Victoria said, ignoring his barb. “And Lady Abernathy will award the medals.”
August went still. “I don’t like the idea of Christine going out into the arena alone. She’s an open target.”
The protectiveness in his tone surprised me.
Victoria looked to Leo, who was standing at our backs. He wouldn’t be participating in the events today because he was Head of Security now. “We’ve taken all the necessary precautions to ensure Lady Abernathy is safe. She’ll be escorted down to the field. We had a sweep of the building this morning. All organizers of the event have been vetted, and every person that enters the arena has to step through a metal detector. We also have the bomb squad on standby.”
I wasn’t necessarily afraid, but hearing how serious they were taking our security now that there was an active threat against us made me nervous. I knew I could defend myself, but there was still tension in the air.
“And what about our special guest?” he asked, making my ears perk up.
“We have all our men in place,” Leo said. “They’re gathering intel. If he tries anything, we’ll not only have documented evidence, but we’ll be clear to take him down. He shouldn’t be a problem.”
August nodded as Leo walked toward the wall to speak quietly into his radio. “Who is the special guest?” I asked. Victoria was busy making sure the photographers were ready and the announcer had the updated speech.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” August quickly replied. Too quickly.
I gave him an incredulous look. “I didn’t think we kept secrets between us anymore, August?”
We were running out of time, but I saw how conflicted he felt. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his eyes scanned the space. “I know you’re aware about the claims Lord Geralt’s brother is making,” he said in a low voice. “It’s impossible to ignore; the papers are eating it up like it’s prime pussy.”
I giggled at his words, even though I felt the weight of anxiety on my chest. Lord Nathan was determined to get his story out there. Victoria had given me a rundown on the situation and how we were responding, but talking about it now made it all feel more real.
“Yes,” I croaked.
August snapped his full attention to me, bending so that he could peer into my eyes. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
I forced myself to stand tall. “I can handle it.”
He cupped my cheek. “I know you can. I just don’t like causing you unnecessary pain. I spoke with him. He is being insistent about his claim on you. I’m handling it, but I also have reason to believe he’s behind the attack. I just want to keep an eye on him.”
“Why didn’t you ban him from the event?” I asked. I wasn’t angry that he was here, but I was still confused. August had the power to strip him of his title and forbid him from attending.
“Atticus seems to think this could be a good way to get intel. See who he’s talking to. See what his motives are. He won’t be in our suite. I made sure of that.”
I nodded. This entire ordeal wasn’t pleasant, but now it became significantly more intense. “I can handle it,” I said, mostly trying to convince myself.
“We can handle it,” August whispered. “And if you don’t trust me, then you can trust Atticus. He’s sharing a suite with Lord Nathan.”
I smiled a little to myself. I knew Atticus would keep us safe. “For the record,” I began, “I trust you, too, August. You sounded a lot like a king earlier—talking to Leo about security. It was impressive.”
I’d expected August to like my compliment, but his lips dipped into a deep frown. “I don’t want to sound like my father, Christine.”
