Glitter (Glitter Duology #1)(73)

Saber crinkles his brow. “Family trait?”

I let out a snort. “Please. No. My father never even wanted what he got, much less more of it. Given half a chance, the King would probably…” My words trail off as the realization slams into me. “My father. The King. What have I done!”





I TEAR FROM the room as quickly as I can, my skirts raised high, ignoring the clattering of Glitter containers and sprinting for the lift. Hopefully the woman in the office will assume I was overwhelmed by my emotions. And she won’t be wrong—they simply aren’t emotions that have anything to do with mourning my mother. As soon as the lift doors close, I slump against the wall.

“I’m so foolish,” I mutter.

“I don’t understand,” Saber says, breathing hard.

“My father. I left him completely vulnerable. I always think of my mother as the powerful one, but she was only powerful because she controlled my father. My father is the source of power. He’s the one with the votes.”

“Votes?”

“How soon could Justin have really heard?” I say, speaking more to myself than to Saber. “Maybe I’ll be on time.” But I’m not optimistic. A death in the palace—especially his future mother-in-law? His Highness would have been informed immediately.

And unlike me—a novice at the power game—he would have seen his opportunity instantly.

The doors to the Grayson apartments are closed and all is quiet. I tap in my code tremulously, half anticipating that it will be denied. Were I the King and I arrived first, I’d lock me out. The fact that the doors respond to my code and open gives me a spark of hope.

The empty atrium gives me another.

A quick code entry and facial scan get me into my father’s office, and my heart races when I see the room cordoned off with tape barriers but otherwise empty. I want to yell for him, but my heart feels as though it’s blocking my throat. Without a word to Saber, I turn and hurry down the hallway, not bothering to muffle the clicking of my heels. I swing around into my father’s bedroom, my shoes skidding beneath me as I take that final corner.

The King is standing behind my father, who’s bleary-eyed and sitting in a small armchair. On his shoulders rest the King’s many-ringed fingers, clasped almost protectively.

But I know who the predator is here.

I hate that he’s caught me off guard, and I force myself to pause, to stand tall, chin lifted, shoulders rolled back.

“My love,” the King says mockingly. “We were just discussing you. When I broke the unfortunate news of your mother’s death, your poor father expressed a wish to make some rather long-due amends to you.”

“Step away from him, Justin. He just lost his wife.”

“You fear for his safety?” His Highness asks melodramatically. “I wouldn’t dream of harming him.”

“I should say not,” I snap. “You need him.”

“I do indeed,” replies the King, almost jovially.

I feel rather than see Saber approach, slinking along the wall so he remains out of sight of the King but just within my own vision as I linger in the doorway. I remain silent. His Royal Highness has not yet made his play, and I’ll not reveal anything that might assist him.

Or that might assist me.

“Your father seems quite convinced that you don’t want to marry me at all. Could that be true, darling?”

“A fact you’ve always known, my lord. Let’s cease these childish games.”

“Games?” he asks, removing one hand from my father’s stooped form and walking around to his right side. “It certainly is a game sometimes. I wish this one were more fun.”

“You’re not having fun?”

But he doesn’t rise to my jab. He lets out a sigh that almost sounds like a growl. “Neither are you. Let’s end this, Danica.” He sounds oddly tired—appears more his age than usual—and I can’t help but wonder if, for once, he’s being honest. “Your father, I believe, would benefit from a change in scenery. I propose to send him into retirement. We won’t call it that, of course. We’ll call it medical leave. Wouldn’t want anyone to question his ability to vote in absentia, would we?”

“Certainly not,” I agree, waiting.

“There’s a lovely town in the south of France—in Languedoc-Roussillon—temperate. Almost Mediterranean. Sonoma Inc. has a luxury retirement community there. I could get him in. My expense. No one would question it.”

I’ve never seen the King this way. Calm. I might even describe him as gentle. The dissonance makes a strange sort of fear fill my chest.

“And I’m happy to have my secretaries manage the details. We could have him moved by the end of the week.”

It sounds beyond reasonable. But the fact is, there’s no way my father can go. I’ve seen him when he can’t get his fix, and I fear the withdrawal might kill him. Damn Reginald and the ridiculously high doses he fed my father! Although my father has failed me many times, I can’t send him to an agonizing death, no matter how luxurious his deathbed.

But neither can I confess any of this to His Highness.

I consider the possibility that I could send Father with fifty patches and tell him—but no. I’m deluding myself. I’d be lucky if he didn’t overdose and kill himself the same way my mother did. Two deaths on my hands then. No, he has to be watched.