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Lachlan pushed away from the wall. “Cousin. Let me–”
“You will marry the prince.” The queen smiled. “For the sake of Kaloma.”
Tarley swallowed, and though she wanted to look at Lachlan, she couldn’t. She didn’t want to see his face, afraid of what she would find in his expression. So she kept her focus on the queen and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “What?” finally escaped.
“As a condition of a treaty between Kaloma and Jast, I would like you to marry Prince Lachlan. He has agreed to marry–”
“I haven’t agreed,” Lachlan said.
Now Tarley’s eyes shifted to his face, her heart dropping into her gut.
He wasn’t looking at her.
“But you agree it is a worthwhile idea,” Keyanna said. “And Miss Fareveiw is the perfect candidate.”
“Miss Fareview is an exceptional one,” Lachlan replied, his eyes finally rising to meet Tarley’s, only instead of the warmth she’d once seen, his look was distant.
“Your Majesty. You can’t mean it.” Panic filled Tarley. “Are you jesting?” She struggled to meet the queen’s eyes as she sat covered with blankets, the firelight casting moving shadows across her battered face. The same moment from the vision she’d had earlier. Tarley fidgeted with her hands and forced herself to stop.
The queen, despite her injuries, her face swollen so she was almost unrecognizable leveled Tarley with her stare. Tarley had leveled a stare like that once or twice in her life. Perhaps daily, but never had anyone frozen her with a stare like that.
“Why would I tease you?” the queen asked. “Do you think me cruel, Miss Fareview?”
Tarley dropped her eyes. “No, your ma…Rose. I just… I’m not… I’m not a noble, I mean. Surely, there must be someone at court better suited to marrying royalty?”
“Perhaps so,” the queen conceded, “but it wasn’t a noble that saved the crown prince of Jast, now was it.”
Tears threatened to fall. “But I’m–” She stopped about to say she wasno one. “We don’t…” she started to say suit, but they shared chemistry in abundance. Only, she’d rejected him and hated that she had. “I hate–” She stopped herself from saying Lachlan. The truth was, she didn’t hate him. She certainly didn’t hate his mouth on her. So she amended, “I’m common. I would make a terrible emissary for Kaloma, your majesty.”
The queen chuckled, but Tarley could hear the pain in it.
“What are your objections, Miss Fareview? Only that you hate Jast?”
Tarley glanced at Lachlan leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, and his face uncharacteristically aloof. “I don’t hate Jast.” She looked back at the queen. “Do I have to say?”
“You think he shouldn’t hear?” The queen nodded at Lachlan without looking at him. “He’s already heard your objection to marrying him. Don’t you think he should know why?”
Tarley wanted to wilt under the pressure, but she wasn’t made that way. Tarley Fareview didn’t wilt. So she straightened her back and straightened her skirt. “Fine. As you wish,” she said and lifted her chin. “I barely know him.”
“Better to not know the defects of one’s marriage partner, I think,” the queen countered.
“He’s from Jast–”
“Which might actually be in his favor, considering what Kaloma has to offer.”
“He lied.”
“With reason. Someone did try to kill him. I’m doing the same.”
“He’s arrogant.”
“As are most of the weaker sex, Miss Fareview.” When Tarley didn’t raise any further objections, the queen raised her eyebrows and said, “Is that all?”
Tarley tried to reason her way out of it but couldn’t. “I’m sure I’m just as objectionable to him, your majesty. We don’t get along at all.” Though that wasn’t exactly true.
Lachlan’s eyebrows rose, as if in challenge.
The queen glanced at him. “Royal marriages aren’t designed because the partnership has tender feelings for one another. Isn’t that right, Prince Lachlan?”
