So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)(88)
“Of course, Your Majesty.” She gave him a shy smile. “I am very happy to discover I have a brother.”
He snorted. “Perhaps you should occasionally slip and call me ‘dear brother.’ Or ‘brother dearest.’ I like that one. And then you could be flustered and apologetic.”
“Yes, brother dearest … I mean, Your Majesty.”
He barked a laugh. “Stay amenable like that, and we’ll get along fine.”
“Actually, brother dearest, I have a few concerns about the competition.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “No need to be concerned. The top three contenders are my favorites. You will end up with one of them.”
“Of course. But even so, I would like to give the competition my wholehearted approval. In order to do that, I would ask for a few concessions.”
He stared at her a moment. “Are you threatening me?”
“No! Of course not. How could I?” She pressed a hand to her pounding heart. “I simply wish to beg for a few favors that would make me feel more comfortable.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Go on.”
“I would like to be able to participate—”
He snorted. “You wish to join in the swordfight? You would be killed.”
“I don’t mean anything that drastic. For example, if one of your favorites asks for a token of my support, I would like the freedom to bequeath it or not, according to my wishes. I would like to feel like I’m taking an active role in the process.”
Gunther shrugged. “All right. As long as you accept the winner, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Thank you. And speaking of the winner, I would feel more comfortable if I were to marry him before…”
“Bedding him?” Gunther smirked. “If it makes it easier for you to fornicate, by all means, say a few useless vows in front of a priest. But if you don’t get pregnant in six months, the marriage will be annulled, and you’ll be reciting your vows to the second-place winner.”
“I understand.”
“Good.” He sat behind his table and drank some wine. “I’ll have my physician concoct a tonic for you to ensure you give birth to a boy. You’ll start taking it tonight in preparation for the winner’s seed.”
She winced inwardly. The winner had better be Rupert. And that tonic would be poured down a privy hole. “I also wanted to ask you about the clause at the bottom of the notice, the one stating that the loser of each round would be executed.”
“That is not negotiable.” Gunther refilled his goblet. “I can’t have a bunch of sore losers roaming about the country, whining and stirring up trouble. Better to just kill them.”
A royal ass, for sure. She cleared her throat. “Yes, but I was hoping you could delay the executions? Perhaps do them all together at the end of the competition?”
He snorted. “You want a mass execution on the day of your wedding?”
She shrugged. “It would be very dramatic, don’t you think? Everyone would always remember my wedding.”
His mouth curled into an actual smile. “You sound like a Grian, after all. Welcome home, sister.”
She returned his smile. If all went well, she would marry Rupert, her brother would be imprisoned, and the losers of the contest would be pardoned when Rupert took the throne.
*
They left for Lourdon at noon, then arrived at the palace the following evening. Over the next three days, Brigitta was not allowed to leave her suite of rooms at Lourdon Palace. Her brother had meant what he’d said about her not being seen in a gown from Eberon. At least her prison was spacious and beautifully furnished, and Sister Fallyn was allowed to sleep in a small room that adjoined her suite.
Brody roamed freely about the castle with other dogs, listening in on conversations and bringing back information to Brigitta. Her brother was busy finishing renovations to the stadium. The plain wooden benches for the public were receiving a new coat of varnish. Meanwhile, the royal box was being encased in gold. A blue velvet canopy with golden fringe would stretch overhead, while blue velvet curtains would surround them on three sides. Two huge chairs were being upholstered with cloth of gold.
Brigitta was assigned a secretary named Hilda, an older woman with beady eyes who watched her like a hawk. Brody confirmed that everything Brigitta did and said in Hilda’s presence was passed on to the king. Not that there was much to report, since Brigitta was kept so isolated.
Each day, a small army of seamstresses was hard at work in a room across the hall from Brigitta’s suite. She only saw them when they came over for fittings, and Hilda was always there, watching them.
The seamstresses had completed seven capes for Brigitta before she’d even arrived at Lourdon Palace. Since the capes were voluminous, the seamstresses hadn’t needed her measurements. But now that she had arrived, they were in a rush to finish seven gowns to match the capes.
Bored out of her mind, Brigitta had begged the seamstresses to allow her to help. She and Sister Fallyn had made their simple gowns at the convent, so even though they didn’t know how to produce anything fancy, they were capable of simple tasks such as hemming skirts.
On the third day, around noontime, Hilda brought over two seamstresses for the final fitting of the fifth gown. This one was midnight-blue silk embroidered with gold thread. Each gown had gold in it somewhere. Brigitta suspected her brother had selected all the fabric, for he was strangely obsessed with gold.