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“Yes, but you’re so short.” Zautland walked around and faced both of us, still holding hands. “It’s hard to see you, you blended right in with the curtains behind you for a solid five seconds.”
“Ah…” Frederick nodded. “Because they’re plain?”
“Are you kidding me?” I dropped his hand. “I’m not plain!”
Zautland ignored me. “Mainly because her hair’s so dark and long I thought it was part of the side of the black drapes and when I realized it was too late, I was already staring at her too long, looking like an idiot.”
“It happens,” Frederick said helpfully.
“She’s used to it, I’m sure.” Zautland agreed.
I squeeze my eyes shut. These idiots.
“So…” Zautland walked around the table and poured himself some whiskey into a crystal glass, then took a sip. “I feel I was promised a show, you said five minutes, so princess, your time is about to start now, if you can convince him to marry you in five minutes, I’ll break off the engagement. He’s a wonderful friend, horrible at pickleball, which he admits every time he loses, but would be a lovely husband.”
Panic rose in my chest, why did this feel like a sudden set up? “So if I win, you break the engagement?”
“Yes.” Zautland took another sip. “But then you’ll have to convince him to marry you, which might be harder, any man might give into your soft touches, but when it comes to marrying you, they often times forget the very sharp claws hidden beneath your perfectly polished nails. Oh look, you changed them to pink, how very out of character, I think I preferred the dark red or black.”
I rolled my eyes. Claws? I had them for good reason! “I’ll prove it.”
“Okay.” Zautland grinned. “And you, Frederick? Are you okay with this?”
“If she can convince me she’s earnest, then yes.” He looked down at me. “But I’d like to remind you—you wouldn’t be able to handle me.”
He was soft. Weak. He read books. I could handle someone who would prefer to be a researcher than a king. “Bet.”
“You heard her.” Zautland grinned and reached for more whiskey. “She said bet.”
Chapter Two
Zautland
It’s not that I wanted to call her bluff—okay, I wanted to call her bluff, wow that didn’t take too long. I loved Frederick; I respected him; we were cousins through marriage and he did an excellent job running his small country.
He never asked for a lot.
Loved his books.
Loved women, though that wasn’t public knowledge since he liked to also fall in love with all the secrets he held over their heads whenever they dated him.
He did in fact do a lot in return, it wouldn’t be a horrible idea for her to marry him, on top of that, if she didn’t want to marry me—which she’d made painfully clear and at times at loud volume, why would I take a chance on her?
I wanted my freedom.
I wanted to see my sister, my adoptive parents and stop staring at a random family photo of the late King and Queen who demanded in their last will I come back “home” and take the throne, yet the more I learned about them the more it became apparent that they were not just great parents, great people, but that, my duty had to be fulfilled with or without her by my side.
I knew I had responsibilities, how nice to have someone by my side, to guide me, to help me. I didn’t want someone who hated me, I wanted someone who would partner with me. After being adopted out of the country because of fear of an uprising coup that ended up actually happening—I’d been hidden away from the world. Trained at the best schools? Yes. Wanted for nothing? Yes. Amazing adoptive parents who doted on me along with a younger sister who had no clue the entire time that she was throwing spaghetti at a future king? Had that too.
But now, now that it was announced I was risen from the dead, back in the country, ready to take the throne, all I had were the people around me that two years ago were strangers, Samira included.
My cousins had been generous in their pointers.
But everything there was different.
There was too much protocol, and every step I took it seemed I was fought back with politely being told it was the wrong one. At one point in my first year I was assigned a butler, Rupert, with a stick up his ass. Thankfully, I got rid of that stick real fast. Who knew all it took was one party and too much whiskey? Now he was an ally, but the point remained. I truly hated it. But I knew I’d endure it for the parents I never knew.
My twin brother had been murdered in his sleep in an effort to take back the country, and I’d been next. I understood why they did it; I didn’t have to like it.
