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When Kallie passed the royal dining room earlier, she heard the loud chatter from Rian’s family. Here, in the secondary dining room in the castle, the large table was set for two. Kallie on one end, Domitius on the other. Kallie couldn’t help but look at the empty chairs and think of the faces missing. The faces that would have been there if her life had turned out differently.
She straightened in her seat.
Kallie had bathed twice already, yet she still couldn’t get the feeling of Sebastian’s fingers off her, his stench. With Myra’s help before the other handmaidens had arrived, the bruises along Kallie’s throat had been meticulously covered up with paint and powder. No matter how much powder Myra dabbed on her flesh to cover the green and purple coloring, the ghost of Sebastian’s fingers still crawled across her skin. Thankfully, her father barely glanced at her long enough to notice the layer of makeup or the heavy curls pushed over her shoulders. The only comment Domitius had made was about her tired gaze, saying it was unbecoming of a queen.
Across from Kallie, Domitius twirled his glass of whiskey. “The other kingdoms have been talking nonstop about how impressed they are with the festivities. This wedding has already done wonders in forming stronger connections with them. It’s splendid,” Domitius said in between sips, “truly splendid. Can you imagine the alliances that will form once the two of you are married? Borgania has always been a tricky kingdom to deal with since its internal battle during the Great War. The rulers of the western half seem to like the young king well enough, so we will need to ensure we nurture that relationship moving forward.”
Kallie tried to smile, but the corners of her lips only twitched, unable to form anything but a ghost of a grin.
Her father was proud of her, but at what cost? What was the price of earning his approval, of earning his respect? Kallie had been fighting for his respect and love for years. And to achieve the small remnant of it that she was receiving now, she had to be grabbed and gagged by Sebastian. What more must she do to earn her father’s full respect?
Love was supposed to be unconditional. But this? The happiness that sparkled in her father’s expression? It was earned on the condition that Kallie sacrificed her body, name, and self-worth. Was that really what she wanted? Was power worth that sacrifice?
Growing up, she had always believed it was worth everything and anything.
A tang of guilt slid over her tongue, and a small voice in her head whispered that she was doing this for them, for their future.
Power came with sacrifice. Wasn’t that what Medenia had said? Didn’t Tessa say that, too? The former queen had forgone her name being written down in the history books in order to put her kingdom first rather than achieve glory for herself. Was that what Kallie had to look forward to as queen? Sacrificing bits and pieces of herself? What happened when she had nothing left to give? When the people, the advisors, and her husband took too much? What happened when her father demanded too much of her? When she withered away?
That morning, Kallie had barely recognized herself in the mirror. Her neck swollen and bruised, her face sunken and pale. The fire in her eyes had gone out as if someone had doused it with water. And all of this only after two months.
What would she look like in a year, in five?
Whowould she be when everything she thought she was became merely a memory?
Domitius picked up his glass of whiskey and took a sip. “It’s quite cute, actually.”
“Cute?” she asked, her voice hoarse, shaky. Kallie swallowed, but it did little to soothe the burn at the back of her throat.
Domitius nodded. “How enamored Rian is with you. It’s cute. Comical, really. He doesn’t even know who he is marrying, yet he looks upon you as if you are the answer he’s been searching for his entire life.”
Kallie stabbed a carrot with her fork.
Rian was a means to an end, but he was a better path than the alternative. For that, Kallie was thankful. She would manipulate him as much as it required if it meant she was safe, if her body was still hers. She would be the perfect bride for Rian while she manipulated him in private, in the whispers that they passed one another at dinner, in the quick touches they exchanged beneath tables. She could be that person. For the kingdoms and for her father.
She exhaled softly. She could do that.
“We will give it one year.”
Kallie glanced up. “A year?”
With a wave of his glass, he said, “A year for you to provide an heir. Come on now, keep up.”
The carrot lodged itself into her throat, and she pounded on her chest with a fist, coughing. The corners of her eyes filled with water.
When she finally spat out the carrot in a napkin, Domitius shook his head. “Smaller bites tomorrow, yes? You’ll be less likely to embarrass us.”
Kallie’s lips parted, but she snapped them shut before her jaw dropped completely. Straightening in her seat, she smoothed out the fabric of her dress as if she could settle the rising anger in the same movement.
Domitius grabbed the decanter and poured a second glass of whiskey. He swiped a lemon peel across the rim. “Here,” he said as he slid the glass to her.
Kallie grabbed the whiskey and stared at the amber liquid. She hadn’t touched the alcohol all night, for she hadn’t had the stomach for it. She reached out, the glass cold against her fingertips, and sipped. The liquid burned her already sore throat as if she had poured fire down it.
“Better?”
Kallie cleared her throat. “Much. Thank you, Father,” she said with a tight smile. For once, she didn’t wish to drown her worries with alcohol. It had done nothing for her over the past couple of months besides give her blistering headaches and a sour stomach.
He nodded, then turned his attention back to his plate. “As I was saying, I do not think it will be hard to convince the brother to—”
