A guard stood in the hallway, one of the king’s personal attendants. His eyes swept past me to land on Isi. “His Majesty requests Princess Amarissa’s presence immediately.”
Isi’s face remained perfectly composed, but I caught the slight hitch in her breathing. “Alright.”
The man nodded and stepped back, waiting.
Isi dismissed her ladies with a gracious smile that didn’t reach her eyes. They curtsied and stepped out into the hall.
Isi turned to face me fully, and the longing in her expression nearly brought me to my knees. I wanted to pull her into my arms and promise her everything would be fine.
But the steward waited.
I offered her a curt nod, keeping my distance while the air between us grew thick with unspoken promises.
Fury flashed in her eyes. She’d never be the docile princess her father demanded. She’d always be the woman who’d stood beside me on an ash-strewn battlefield, the woman who’d chosen me when the world demanded otherwise.
We stepped into the hallway, and I took up position behind her.
The servant led us through endless corridors. Multiple guards patrolled the halls, another sign of the king’s paranoia, or perhaps his suspicion. Either way, it complicated everything.
We turned a corner, and Lord Crestin appeared ahead, striding toward us. Isi stiffened, her steps faltering before she recovered. He nodded politely as he passed, his eyes lingering on her a moment too long.
Isi continued walking with her spine straight, her chin lifted, every inch the princess. Only someone who knew her intimately would notice the tightness in her shoulders and the way her fingers pressed together at her waist.
We soon reached the king’s office.
The servant knocked once and cracked open the door. “Princess Amarissa, Your Majesty.”
“Send her in.”
Isi walked through the opening, and I followed, taking my position against the wall near the entrance.
The king sat at his desk, his head bent over papers, the same game he’d used yesterday. He seemed to enjoy making her wait. Establishing dominance.
I scanned the room. Two exits, including the door we’d entered through and another leading to an adjacent parlor where I’d waited after I arrived. The windows behind the king’s desk were too high and too narrow to provide adequate escape. I spied no weapons within easy reach except the letter opener on his desk.
There were not enough options and the knowledge seared across my skin.
Isi continued to wait.
The king gestured with his pencil to the chair across from his desk without looking up. “Sit.”
She perched on the edge of the seat.
“So,” her father said. “Who shall I announce you’re marrying? Lord Crestin, Lord Alfred, or Lord Finley? Choose.”
Isi’s shoulders tightened, but she forced them to relax. A shudder ran through her that she tried to disguise by shifting in her seat.
“Father, they’re all such admirable men.” Her voice came out soft, humble. “Each brings wonderful connections to our court. The decision is difficult.”
I kept my face blank, my hands loose at my sides. Every instinct screamed to intervene, to pull her from that chair and take her away from this farce.
“A difficult choice,” the king said slowly, still not respecting her enough to meet her eye. “I see.”
“Could I have a little more time to decide?” she asked. “They’re all wonderful. You selected an amazing group for me to pick from and that’s making this a challenge.”
Finally, the king looked up, though his gaze fell on me, not her. “Very well. I’m not unreasonable. I can be a generous man when you’re obedient.”
Relief flickered across Isi’s face. “Thank you, Father. I?—”