“I’m sorry,” she muttered, crossing her arms and blushing. “It’s just that…I’ve been looking for that constellation for years, and I had given up hope that I’d ever find it.”
I smiled. “I’m at your disposal. You can hug me whenever you wish.”
“I—” She let out a stuttered laugh. “Thank you.” The fact that this woman, who fought off a viper moments ago, was nervous just by hugging me, intrigued me.
“No, thank you,” I countered, studying the way the moonlight glimmered on her face. “I don’t get hugged often by beautiful women.”
She wrapped my coat around her body more tightly. “I didn’t know flattery was one of your many skills,” she teased. I stepped closer, buttoning up the coat to keep the chill off her.
“I’ve learned many things since you’ve last seen me,” I replied, holding her eyes hostage.
Her lips quirked. “Like what?”
“I can sew and—”
“You cannot!” Ava chuckled.
I laughed, buttoning the last button. “I can. Who else is going to fix the holes in my training gear?”
Ava shrugged. “A maid?”
I shook my head. “I don’t trust anyone here. They’ll put itching powder in my shirts or something.”
Ava laughed harder. “Oh, now you are too paranoid, Garr. Good to know, in case I get a hole in my dress, though.”
I smirked. “I’m expensive.”
She rolled her eyes. “Mmhmm.”
I belted out in laughter and placed a hand on her cheek. “You, Avie, are still just as charming as I remember.”
Her eyes never left mine as she curtsied. My skin tingled, as though she had the power to suck my soul right out of me, making me feel vulnerable.
“Let’s get you inside so you don’t catch a cold,” I suggested, needing to get back to the safety of people. Placing my hand on her back, I escorted her to the palace, trying to keep my mind off those emerald irises.
George
Chapter 11
I settled on a navy-blue chair in my father’s “crusade room” with a glass of brandy. My father chatted and paced the floor about the festivities of my mother’s birthday celebration, and I tuned him out. After Lady Dawson’s attendance last night, my mother had pissed me off and confirmed she was trying to get rid of Madelyn.
“So, what was it that you called me in for?” I asked, growing tired. “I promised Garrett we’d practice sparring for the tournament.” Father stopped and leaned an arm against the wooden mantel over the fireplace. A large painting of him, dressed in an elegant blue robe with his crown, hung above it.
“It’s Lady Stratford,” he replied, pausing.
I shrugged. “What of her?”
Father sighed. “You must stop courting her.” I removed the glass of brandy from my lips and furrowed my brows as he continued. “It isn’t that she isn’t lovely and kind, she is. I just don’t think she has the stomach to be a queen.”
“Is this you speaking, or Mother?” I asked.
He brought a glass decanter of brandy over from the liquor cart and refilled my glass with a generous amount. “Only me. Even though your mother has made it perfectly clear, in her own way, this is me talking to you. Father to son.”
“Madelyn is of good breeding; she would be the ideal woman for my children,” I said. “She could learn to fit the role of Queen.” Father sat across from me, propping his feet on the small table between us.
“It’ll take years for her to absorb it all. Plus, the people have to grow to love her, accept her as their Queen.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Isn’t that what you did with mother? She isn’t Tellivan.”
My father took a gulp of his brandy and smacked his lips. “And the people hate her,” he said bluntly. I gaped at him. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I found a solution.”
I narrowed my eyes, leery. “And that would be?”
“Ava.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“She would be perfect, George. She—”
“No.”
“She has already been made for the role,” Father put in. The phrase “royal chained” rolled in my head when I thought of ‘Ava’ and ‘Queen’ in the same sentence; it was how she used to describe it.
“She doesn’t want it,” I stated. “I’m not going to put this on her.”
Father crinkled his face. “Put this on her? It is an honor to be called upon to rule this beautiful country.”
I tsked. “I don’t know if I’d say that.”
My father stood, his gray hair disheveled. “Don’t be an ungrateful ass. Just because we are dealing with rebels in our country doesn’t mean it’s less worthy.”
I swirled the liquid in my glass, giving me something to do so that I didn’t lose my temper. “You brought her into this mess the moment you made her an heir. Now she has to watch her back.”
“I’ll stand by my decision of making her an heir,” Father ground out, pacing the room, across the faded line he’d put into the rug from prior rants. “I had my heart planned on this arrangement. Ava fits you like a glove, would keep you in line. The people love her; she loves them. I needed to make sure I had a second option. It’s horrible to think about, but…it’s what I have to think about.”
I bowed my head in agreement. “Ava would, indeed, be beneficial,” I conceded. “For the crown, not for her. I won’t break our deal.”
He stopped and turned toward me. “This was a courtesy. I wasn’t asking.”
“I’ll find someone else,” I retorted.
“Ava is right here,” Father insisted, pointing at the wall. “She is perfect, George. There won’t be—”
“I know where she is,” I snapped. “Father, we’ve done enough to her already. Let her live her life now.”
“I’ve done nothing to that girl but treat her as one of my own!” he barked, his face flushing.
“You put a fucking target on her back the day you signed on, making her the next heir!” I shouted, standing. “Is that how you take care of your own?”
My father halted and stared at me intently. He looked weary, years of worry taking its toll. His broad shoulders were now sagged, and the lines shown under his eyes from lack of sleep. “I gave Telliva a fucking promising future if you died. Not everything is about everyone’s feelings and how they will feel. She is the only person that I trust to run this country well.”
“Make Reddington the heir,” I retorted. “He’s my cousin, for Femme Fatale’s sakes!”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Father roared. “Do you want your mother to kill me with her bare hands? His mother tried to kill your mother all those years ago. Do you think giving him the throne would sit well with Cecilia?”
I dropped my glass, not giving a shit where it landed. “That’s your fuck up, not ours. And now Ava has to pay for it?”
Father strode toward me, clenching his fists. If my father was twenty years younger, he would have scared the shit out of me.
“Regardless of my fuck up, there are reasons why I did what I did. If I had it my way, I’d make your brother the king, but I can’t do that; your mother would agree. That’s Tellivan law. That leaves your bastard sister, Hara, out too. I’m an only child. You are the only legitimate child. Where does that leave me, George?”
I clenched my jaw. It left him with no one besides greedy Lords to eat up the throne.
Father set down his glass with a hard thud. “You have one week to find another bride, or Ava will be your Queen.”
“And if I flatly refuse?”
“Then she marries someone else.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because you don’t adhere to my requests, and I need to light a fire under your ass to make things happen.”
“What are the requirements?” I asked, feeding into this. This wasn’t going to happen if I had anything to do with it.
Father made for the door but didn’t turn around. “She must be wealthy, in good standing, sociably, and demand reverence.”
“I’ll start right away.”
He looked over his shoulder. “You better. A week isn’t shit.”
With that, he slammed the door. I sat back, sipping my brandy. I was fucked. Where the hell would I find another tolerable wife in such a short amount of time?