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Since the dinner with the king three days ago, Rian had reverted to being his aloof self. Busy or not, his blatant absence was quickly becoming a nuisance. It didn’t matter how easy the man was to manipulate if she never saw him.
Kallie had thought that the night at the tavern would help clear her mind, but the reverse happened. Her anger hadn’t been sedated; her unwanted thoughts hadn’t quieted. Instead, they increased tenfold. At night, her dreams were filled with Graeson’s face—a face even whiskey apparently couldn’t drown out. If a night out would not quiet her mind, it was time she focused on her assignment and weaved her way into Rian’s heart. No more delaying the inevitable.
“Princess? Is there something—”
“No,” Kallie said, cutting Sansil off. Whiskey warmed her stomach, propelling her forward. Was it her most brilliant idea to go hunting the king when alcohol most likely stained her breath? Probably not. But that’s what the mints in her pocket were for.
Footsteps echoed behind her, and with a groan, Kallie skirted to a stop. “What is it, Sansil?”
The guard’s cheeks reddened. He shuffled on his feet as he repeatedly gripped the hilt of his sword. “You are to be guarded at all times, Princess. If you are walking the ground, I shall follow—”
“I amfine, Sansil,” Kallie said with a disgruntled sigh as she turned around.
While the guard’s presence was not unexpected, it was unwelcome today.
Every day, she was closely guarded, and her day was filled with random, meaningless tasks and tours around the castle. To pass the time during her walks, she started counting anything she could. She counted how many benches were scattered around the property (23), the external doors (14), the sections of rose bushes in the gardens (140), the windows in the stone castle (238). Soon enough, Kallie ran out of things to count, and the thoughts came tumbling back.
Sansil was one of the few guards in the rotation whom Kallie liked. He was kind, quiet, and polite. Unlike the other guards, he wasn’t afraid to show that he was more than a guard, that he was human. But right now, his morality was unneeded.
“But I must insist. If you are headed outside—”
Kallie spun around, facing him. “You do not need to worry, for I do not plan on walking the grounds. I will remain within the confinements of this castle.”
“Then where are you headed?”
“To the king.”
“But, the king is—”
“Indisposed?” Kallie asked with an arched brow. Huffing, she shook her head, but it only made her head hurt and her vision blurry.
Sansil continued to stare at her, brows furrowed. His gaze bounced back and forth down the hall. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Kallie stumbled forward but quickly recovered. “May I remind you, Sansil, that I am your future queen. I may do whatever I please.”
The guard’s eyes widened before he folded into a bow. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said, any emotion drained from his tone.
“Do not follow me,” Kallie commanded.
Kallie didn’t wait to see if the command slithered into his mind before she stormed down the hallway. She pulled the metal flask hidden inside her corset. Unplugging the stopper, she chugged half of its content before returning it to its spot. With the back of her hand, she wiped her mouth.
Today was not about smart choices. Today was about getting shit done.
* * *
Who hadKallie been trying to fool? She was in no state to see Rian.
Kallie stared up at the portraits of the kings as she sucked on a mint and began to question her choice in coming here. While her anger had simmered on the walk to the king’s wing, the whiskey still burned her throat and warmed her head.
She told herself that her rash behavior was a result of the wedding, only a normal consequence of the constant stress. Her future was dependent upon this marriage, and she couldn’t afford any more mistakes.
Of course, she should have thought about that before she had stormed through the halls like a mad woman. She should have thought about that before she had drank most of the contents within the flask. Before her steps became shaky. Before her thoughts were consumed with regret.
Now, she stood in front of Lothian’s portrait, and guilt stirred in her stomach. Guilt and whiskey were not a good combination, either.
Sheshouldturn around and return to her quarters, sleep off the rest of the alcohol that swam through her veins. Yet she couldn’t move away from the late king’s portrait.
She couldn’t stop the raging thoughts, the regrets that crept in. The names that surfaced as she stared at the painted crown.
