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“You will do what you’re told or quickly find yourself out of the public eye in short order, Zephyrine!”
In my irritation, I was forgetting my role as her trainer, but I didn’t care. Her dark irises flashed.
“Again, you’re forgetting who you are!” she hissed back at me. “I am about to be your queen! Show me some respect!”
Groaning loudly, I flopped unceremoniously onto the floor and draped my ankle over the other. “Pretend I am King Cade,” I invited her. “And I’ll pretend you’re Queen Zephyrine, okay?”
She started to shake her head, but I held up a hand. “That’s the only way this is going to work.”
She was shaking with frustration, but to her credit, she managed to swallow whatever it was that threatened to spill from her lips.
“I don’t think that the King would be so informal with his wife,” she muttered, perching on the edge of one of the dining chairs.
I smothered a smirk. “I suppose you’ll find out soon enough. He may call you Zephy… or My Queen.”
Zephyrine’s eyes bugged at both suggestions, and it took everything in me not to laugh fully aloud. I had to turn away and cough lightly.
“Your role is to sit at my side and predict my needs,” I continued, tilting my head back toward her.
“I can’t take you seriously when you’re sitting there like that, a servant on the ground, barking orders as you are. This is ridiculous,” she blurted out.
“You can’t speak to your king that way, My Queen,” I informed her flatly.
Her cheeks paled. “Stop it!” she grunted, rising. “I’m not doing this with you. Maybe you’re into some kinky role-playing bullshit, but I refuse to do this!”
“I am your king, My Queen. You must—”
“STOP IT!” Zephyrine cried, tears filling her eyes. “I-I’m not doing this. I’ve been humiliated enough. I won’t do this.”
She whipped around to storm from the ballroom, but I was on my feet before she could escape, grabbing her arm, and she gasped in surprise at my touch. Wrenching herself out of my grasp, she gawked at me.
“You can’t touch me,” she whispered.
But there was no anger in her tone. Her complexion was ashen, hands trembling.
“Marrying the King of Ironhelm is humiliating to you?” I demanded, anger burning through me at the insult.
She backed away, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t understand,” she muttered.
“Try me,” I insisted as she dropped her eyes.
Biting on her luscious lower lip, a black strand of hair fell over her cheek, and Zephyrine blinked rapidly, as if to keep tears of frustration from falling.
“You don’t really care, Axel.”
“I’m asking, aren’t I?” I growled. “Tell me.”
Slowly, she raised her head and looked at me, surprise coloring her face as she realized I was serious.
“I’m not humiliated to marry a king—of course not. I… I’ve just… I don’t even know who he is or what he looks like. I’ve basically been locked in my manor house my whole life, sheltered from the public. I’ve never had any say in my future. It’s always been prophesied for me. And it’s clearly no different here. And here you are, someone who is supposed to respect me, and you’re treating me like a child.”
I snorted loudly, and Zephyrine scowled deeply before I could explain my response.
“I told you that you wouldn’t understand,” she muttered, spinning away. “I’m done here.”
I let her go, watching as she slipped through the open doorway of the ballroom. But this time, I felt an unexpected kinship toward her.
Oh, I understand you better than you think, My Queen,I mused silently, a strange disappointment overtaking me in her absence.
