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1
HARLOW
A vase of lilies sat in the center of the table, the long stems extending to beautiful white flowers on top. Condensation formed on the surface of the glass like the flowers had just been picked that morning. My eyes glazed over as I stared at the flowers in the center, listening to Atticus speak to Violet beside him.
“How’s your family?” he asked, handsome in his buttoned coat and trousers.
“They’re well,” she said. “But Mother has been slowing down without my father around…”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“My mother is pressuring me to marry. As an only child, I don’t have a brother to head the household.”
It took all my strength not to roll my eyes.
Atticus clearly didn’t know what to say to that because he didn’t say anything at all. The awkward silence stretched until Atticus turned his gaze to the same flowers I stared at.
I decided to jump in. “Want my advice, Violet?” I turned to look at her head-on. “Don’t wait for a man to save you. Save yourself. Advice my mother gave me that I impart to you.”
Violet seemed to take that as an insult because she silently excused herself from the table.
Atticus released a quiet sigh before he looked at me. “Why do you do that?”
“What?” The room was full of the stewards of the other Kingdoms, stewards who served King Rolfe—my father. It was a luncheon, the kind of social event that my father despised but my mother encouraged. According to her, there were other ways of earning loyalty besides demanding it.
“Don’t what me, Harlow.”
I rolled my eyes and looked away. “There’s nothing less attractive than a desperate woman. Please tell me you’re smart enough not to fall for that ploy.”
“But you don’t need to be rude.”
“She was rude first.”
“How?”
“Because she only wants you for something—since you’re the future king. When a woman’s affection for my brother is true, then I won’t be rude.” I looked away again, ignoring the food on my plate.
“We don’t know if I’m the future king. You’re the eldest.”
“But I’m a woman.”
“You know Father doesn’t care about that.”
“But he also knows I’ve got a mouth that breathes fire just like a dragon.”
He cracked a smile even though he tried to hide it. “You’re right about that.”
The musicians stopped their song, and all the chatter in the hall died away. Our attention turned to the double doors that would soon open. I had to shift in my chair to see past the enormous vase that was too big for the table.
Then the trumpets started, and the servants opened both doors simultaneously, revealing my father in his king’s uniform, his sword at his hip, even though he hadn’t served in battle since before I was born. Tall, muscular, with eyes that could kill, he stared straight ahead with an attitude that clearly said, “I don’t want to be here.” He moved into the room, flanked by his guard, crossing the checkerboard tiles between the table as he approached the throne that waited for him.
As he drew close, his eyes shifted to the table where we sat.
I smiled, knowing how much he hated this diplomatic bullshit.
It was too subtle for anyone but me to notice, a smile in his eyes rather than on his lips. It lasted less than a second before his eyes were forward again. He reached the top of the rise, turned around and regarded all the stewards who served him, and then took a seat, the crown of jewels upon his head.
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