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No one would ever believe we’re suited for each other, not even enough for an adequate sex dream.
I’ve never spoken it aloud, but that man was my sexual awakening. Despite my having been groomed from a young age to marry the Favored Prince, I’ve always had a secret thing for Etienne.
I may sound as if I’m describing the members of a boy band, but Etienne is by far the most spellbinding of all three Haart princes. When I was 13 years old, I saw a photo of the teenage Etienne sticking his tongue out at the paparazzi, and I was done for. That rude tongue, that tousled hair, those hooded, emo eyes. My secret crush was forever sealed.
Most girls get over their boy-band era crushes. But I was being pushed at his brother Torben, and Etienne was the opposite of his older brother in every way. Yet Etienne never gave me the slightest glance. So, of course, he’s haunted my dreams ever since.
The knocking continues. “Madam?”
Oh, gods, I recognize that voice. It’s one of the queen’s new assistants. A knot forms in my stomach.
“Just a moment!” I call out, lying here in my bed, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window at the view of the city.
I sigh heavily, wishing I did have a man in my bed to shoo the world away.
It’s so early, the sun barely peeks over the choppy waters of the North Sea in the distance, beyond the line of buildings and churches of the capital city.
What’s it going to be? Another audience with the king? The queen is fine. But King Otto? He jangles my last nerve. I don’t trust him.
My robe knotted tight around me, I open the door and smile at the tall man in the kilt. The latest addition to the royal staff, Uther, has become quite the heartthrob in the papers. He does absolutely nothing for me, but I understand the appeal. “Good morning.”
Uther nods solemnly. “Good morning, Madam. I am to deliver you a letter.”
“Is something wrong?”
“The queen’s advisors ask you to read it and reply within the hour.”
Within the hour? My goodness, it must be urgent.
I take the letter and step aside to invite Uther inside. He blushes. “I will wait in the hall.”
Ah, yes, he can’t come inside. He’s on business, and the royal family’s employees must be above reproach. I feel silly leaving him in the hallway, so I leave the door open a crack and go to the kitchen.
As I pass my wall of windows, I glance past the downtown of Arenhammer, toward the hill on the far side, atop which sits the palace.
If I know the timing of these summonses, I’m being invited to the royal family’s breakfast with the prince.
The awful memory of Torben’s 18th birthday comes flooding back. The Favored Prince himself was gracious, and the palace kept the “break-up” out of the media.
There was no relationship to break up, in fact. The only thing broken was my pride.
My stepmother Ilsa’s martyrdom overshadowed our whole house for the longest while. She wallowed in self-pity because I’d failed to do the one thing she’d reared me up to do: marry the prince and become queen.
I toss the letter on the breakfast island, then shuffle to the coffee bean grinder to measure exactly 25 grams. Never a whole pot because I’m alone.
I should open the letter straight away, but I need coffee first.
I measure the beans, grind them, add the water to the pot, and then wait.
Curiosity wins out, and I read the letter as the aroma of fresh coffee fills my flat.
“King Otto VI requests the immediate presence of Lady Kala St. Rain at 9 a.m. today, the Seventeenth of September, at Haart Castle.”
I groan. This is not a request. A king’s request is a demand. He legally can’t force me to attend the palace, but who would dare say no? Not when I’m in the current bind I’m in. Perhaps we can broker an extension on the money my father so stupidly borrowed from the palace.
Once I take my first sip of coffee, I’m ready to respond. Pushing open my door, I give Uther my word and a winning smile. “You may tell Her Majesty the Queen and His Majesty the King that I will be there with bells on.”
Uther nods and gives me a half smile. “Excellent, Madam.”
