Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(61)
I wished that Captain Auster was here. He would have been so proud of me for finally putting my military history lessons to good use.
Heinrich kept glaring at me, and his hands curled into fists on top of the table, but I wasn’t done with him. Not by a long shot.
“More important, your kingdom is the one that Morta will invade first, the one that they will swallow up first, to get all that wealth you’re so proud of. And once the other rulers see that happen, I imagine that they will all be quite happy to align with me then.”
I gestured at Xenia, who was still standing along the wall. “Lady Xenia is a cousin to the Ungerian queen. Tell me, Xenia: Do you think your cousin would be more amenable to aligning with Bellona than King Heinrich is?”
Xenia stepped forward and bobbed her head, playing her part perfectly. “Of course, Your Majesty. I’ve already spoken with the queen about an alliance, which she is quite eager to make.”
I dropped my hand and leaned back in my seat. “An alliance that won’t cost me anything, especially not my hand in marriage now and my throne, life, and kingdom later. So you see, Heinrich, you might have great wealth, but in the end, that’s all you have. So why don’t you consult with your advisors before you so recklessly throw away my more-than-generous offer.”
My insults and demands delivered, I surged to my feet, threw my dinner napkin onto the table, and stormed out of the dining hall.
*
I strode down the hallway, cold rage still coursing through my veins.
What a blind, stubborn, stupid fool Heinrich was. Why try to force me into a marriage that neither his son nor I wanted? Why not just align with me outright? Didn’t he see that I was trying to do what was best for Andvari and Bellona? Didn’t he realize that Morta was the true threat to us, along with our people?
But I supposed it didn’t matter anymore. Once again, I had let my temper get the best of me, and I’d probably insulted Heinrich too badly for him to consider any proposal I might make now. Instead of being a good queen, a wise queen, and helping my kingdom, I’d just mucked things up even worse. I wasn’t a mere pretender—I was an epic failure, plain and simple.
At times like this, I desperately missed life at the Black Swan. Things at the gladiator troupe had been black and white, more or less, with only a few shades of gray. Work, train, fight in the arena. Simple, clean, brutal.
Being queen was none of those things—except brutal—and there were so many damn shades of gray that I’d forgotten what black and white, wrong and right, even fucking looked like.
I was so angry that I didn’t pay attention to where I was going, and I wound up in an enormous library. Floor-to-ceiling cases filled with books covered the walls and stretched up three floors to a round, domed ceiling made of black, white, and gray glass that formed a gargoyle face. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace in the wall, driving back some of the drafty chill, while cushioned settees and chairs were scattered throughout the rest of the library, along with tables covered with books and maps.
I should have turned around and tried to find my way back to my chambers, but I was still too angry for that, so I marched over to the far wall, which was made of glass and overlooked the Edelstein Gardens.
I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, glaring out into the dark, shadowy night, but eventually, footsteps sounded behind me. I drew in a breath, and a familiar scent filled my nose—vanilla mixed with spice. I sighed with relief. Sullivan was here.
I opened my mouth and turned around to call out a greeting, but the words died on my lips. Because Sullivan wasn’t standing in the library—Dominic was.
“May I come in?” he called out in a low, cautious voice.
I shrugged. “It’s your library.”
He strode over to me, and together, we stared through the glass. Outside, several fluorestone streetlamps burned along the cobblestone paths, tinting the trees’ metallic leaves a soft, shimmering gold. But I soon grew tired of admiring the view, and I studied Dominic out of the corner of my eye.
Dominic looked eerily like Sullivan, but he was taller and thinner than his younger brother, and his scent was more warm spice than cold vanilla. But the real difference was that he didn’t bring a smile to my face or make my heart trip over itself the way that Sullivan always did. And he never, ever would.
“I’m sorry about my father,” Dominic said. “I haven’t seen him lose his temper like that in a long time. Not since the day he realized that Sullivan had left Glitnir.”
His choice of topic surprised me, but I decided to play along.
“And why would your father care so much about that?” I asked. “Sullivan’s not the crown prince; he’s not the heir. It’s not like you ran off and joined a gladiator troupe.”
A faint smile curved Dominic’s lips. “True. But as you saw at dinner, my father is used to getting his way, and he wanted Sullivan to marry into another noble Andvarian family. We all love Sullivan, and we all felt sorry for him when Helene called off their engagement. He should have stayed here. We could have helped him through his heartache.”
And that was probably another reason why Sullivan had left. The proud magier wouldn’t have wanted anyone to pity him, especially not his own brother.
“But perhaps things will finally work out for Sullivan and Helene, now that he’s back home,” Dominic continued. “It would be nice if someone around here finally got what they wanted.”