“Because, Lady Payne, the reason I cosigned the bargain was because I thought it was almost certain that my son would make a poor choice in a future queen. Which he would have, had his bargain not been so poorly and rashly worded. At the beginning of this dinner, I had every intention of undoing the arrangement, after what I was sure would be a long evening of a power- and money-thirsty maiden buttering up my queen and myself with praises of our generosity and compliments regarding aspects of ourselves the maiden was sure to know nothing at all about. Oh, but what a pleasant surprise it was to meet you, instead.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Ah. Let me make it clear for you. I don’t believe my son could ever pick a female as fit for ruling as you.”
I shook my head, as if doing so would dislodge me from this ridiculous nightmare I’d found myself trapped in. “But I don’t care anything about power.”
“Exactly. That, and the fact that you’re clever and possess ingenuity about you, makes you the perfect candidate for a future queen. In the case that I meet an unpleasant end, of course.”
My heart sank. “But what about my father’s business? I…I told you about my desire to marry for love. Why did you ask me what I wanted if you had no intention of holding it in any regard? Surely you’re not going to punish me for your son’s folly.”
The king sighed and, not for the first time, I noticed the weariness, the fog that blurred the edges of those gray eyes. “That, my dear, is the trouble with it all. As much as I hate to punish you—and believe me, I do—my son is as you say. A fool. He has paraded about his entire life as if his actions have no consequence on anyone around him. As he is now, he is not fit to rule. A king must understand this quality, to his very core. That his actions are not his own, but the rudder that shapes the course of every soul entrusted to him. My son must learn that his rash nature is harmful to others. If I fix his mistake on your behalf, how will he ever learn?”
I blinked at the burning tears that were now obscuring the king’s beautiful, horrible face as I tried my best not to break down in front of the only being who had the power to free me. The power to ruin my life.
For all the certainty I’d possessed just a few moments ago, all I could manage was a whisper. “Please don’t do this. Please.”
“My dear,” he said as he turned away, “I have utmost confidence that a woman as industrious as yourself will learn to make the most of it.”
It hadn’t worked.
I stood gaping at the open door through which the king had just exited, my legs and fists wobbling.
I hardly noticed when Blaise and Imogen came to retrieve me.
Convincing the king to revoke Evander’s bargain had been our one shot at getting out of this marriage, and we’d failed.
I’d failed.
The life I’d planned for myself unraveled with every turn of a marble staircase, every curve in the stone corridors of this wretched castle.
I could hardly keep it together as Imogen and Blaise led me back to my quarters.
Relief swept over me when we finally arrived at my door, but it was short-lived.
Someone had carved my name, Lady Elynore Payne, Crown Betrothed, into the door.
They might as well have carved the knife into my gut.
Blaise unlocked the door and propped it open for me. I swept inside, grateful that I was only moments away from having time to myself, a moment to weep without having to deal with Imogen’s uncomfortable stares.
After both maids helped me out of my gown, Imogen curtsied and left me be, wishing me goodnight in a mumble I almost couldn’t detect.
Blaise stayed, lingering by the door, fiddling with her keyring.
“It didn’t work, did it?” she asked, her tone absent of that carefree aura she so expertly adorned.
I swallowed, turning toward the bed so she wouldn’t have to watch my tears ruin the paint she’d taken so much care to perfect. Imogen had tried to wash it off, but it had taken all my willpower not to burst into tears as she and Blaise undressed me, so I’d told them I’d rinse it away myself.
I wasn’t sure how she’d known what Evander and I were planning, but since they appeared to have a relationship that exceeded that of a servant and prince, I figured Evander had kept her informed.
“No,” I said, clutching the edges of my nightgown. “It didn’t work.”
Blaise went silent for a long while, and for a moment I wondered if she had slipped into the corridor, but then she spoke, her voice soft. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted for yourself.”
“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not as if it’s your fault.”
Footsteps padded against the rug, and soon the warmth of a hand landed gently on my shoulder. I turned to Blaise, and she chewed her lip, concern etched across her brow. “I know you’ll probably hate me for saying this, but you could do worse than Evander.” When I opened my mouth to protest, she shook her head. “I imagine you could do better, too. He’s definitely got his flaws. But he’s not like his father. He’ll see to it you’re taken care of.”
Silver lined Blaise’s lower eyelids, and I wondered then if she was speaking from experience. Blaise hadn’t struck me as the most sentimental person, but there was no mistaking the gratefulness that welled in her eyes.
Or the sadness. Or perhaps it was pity. I couldn’t tell if it was for me or Evander, or the both of us, but there was something raw about it.
“You know what it means to have the future you expected stripped away from you.” I’d meant for it to be a question, but it didn’t come out that way.
She offered me a tight-lipped smile and nodded. The momentary sadness disappeared, and she donned that carefree mask once more.
Then she slapped me on the back like we were old fishing buddies, and grinned. “It seems to me that we’re both the type to make the most of it.”
CHAPTER 12
EVANDER
She’d failed.
I’d stood outside the dining hall, eavesdropping on the conversation between Ellie and my father.
Ellie had failed to convince my father to sever the bond, and now I was going to be stuck with a woman who thought little more of me than a common whore for the rest of my life.
