Mina stood there helplessly, not sure if she should follow. Rumbles echoed throughout the Hall, and Mina knew that if she didn’t quiet them now, they would overpower her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Xenia, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. How satisfying it would be for her if Mina should begin her reign in confusion and chaos. Mina’s fists clenched at her side. I am a queen, she reminded herself. And I am loved.
“Please be calm,” she called to the crowd. “The princess has a small wound, nothing that will not heal shortly. Continue your meal, as I’m sure my husband would wish you to do.” Her voice was steady, and the anxious rustling died down. Mina knew she had to return to the table; if she didn’t, they would all assume something was wrong.
Before she ascended the dais again, she examined the mirror and found a small crack in the glass near the bottom. She could have fixed it, of course, but too many people had already seen the damage. “Should we dispose of it, my lady?” one of the men asked.
Mina brushed her fingers against the cool glass. It wasn’t just glass, though; she was reaching out to herself, to the image that had taught her that she was a queen. Wouldn’t it be ungrateful to be rid of it so soon?
“No,” she said. “Take it to my chambers—the queen’s chambers.” The men obeyed, carrying the mirror out.
Gregory came to her side. “Nicely handled,” he said as they ascended the dais together.
Mina didn’t answer. She only took her seat at the high table and looked out at her new subjects, finding herself in the reflections of their eyes.
* * *
After the feast, Mina went looking for her new husband. She hadn’t forgotten the promise she had made to herself, that she would tell him about her heart on their wedding night. She would explain to him what it meant, and he would reassure her that her father must have been mistaken, that their love for each other proved her heart was as real as his.
She found Nicholas in his room, staring into the fireplace.
“Has the princess recovered?” Mina asked.
Nicholas turned to her, his whole body tense. “Yes, she’s asleep in her room. I’ll check on her again later tonight.”
“Surely it isn’t that serious? It was a scrape. Didn’t your surgeon examine her?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I want to be there if she needs me. I don’t want her to think that our marriage will change anything.”
“I see.” He’d rather spend his wedding night with her, Mina thought, and she couldn’t help the burst of rage she felt—toward her husband, his daughter, even his dead wife.
“You’re angry with me,” the king said, lifting an eyebrow in surprise.
“I’m not angry, my lord,” Mina lied, “but I had hoped not to spend my wedding night alone.” She came closer to him and placed one hand on his chest, curling her fingers over the fabric of his shirt, wishing she could reach through flesh and fabric alike to claim his heart for her own. The king was staring at her hand, and he brought his own up to cover it, his skin warm from the wine and the excitement of the day. She slid her hand away from his, up to his jaw, his cheek, and he pressed her hand to his lips. Mina leaned in, feeling alive under his gaze. “Come back with me to my room, husband.”
Cupping her face, he kissed her roughly. Mina brought her hands to his chest, but at her touch, he retreated, shaking his head at her. “I can’t ignore what happened tonight, Mina.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I thought I could marry you and still keep Lynet away from your father, but that was a mistake.” He shook his head again, looking away from her. “I’m afraid this marriage was a mistake.”
His voice was resolute and unwavering as he spoke those words. And even as Mina felt dread slowly spreading through her, part of her knew that she should have expected this from the start. No one can love you, remember?
“Nicholas, you can’t mean that,” she said in a near whisper. “You wanted this as much as I did.”
“I know,” he said. “But I haven’t known a moment’s peace since I proposed to you. I kept wondering if I was endangering my daughter, if I was pursuing my own selfish desires without thinking of her. At least now I know I was right to feel that way.”
“It’s a little too late to change your mind, isn’t it?” Mina spat, her hands shaking. She didn’t know whether to be devastated or furious, both emotions building inside her until she was sure she would tear herself in two.
He stepped closer to her and took her face in his hands, simply looking at her, searching for something. “I’ve been unfair to you,” he said softly. “When we’re alone together, it’s easy for me to forget who you are, to pretend…”
Mina pulled herself away from him. “To pretend that I’m Emilia. Is that what you mean?”
“Mina, I’m sorry.”
He reached for her again, but she stepped away from him. “If you closed your eyes and held me in your arms, it would be easy to think that I was her, to feel like you had a wife you could touch again. But I’m more than just something to touch, Nicholas. I want you to love me.”
“I know. But I can’t give you what you want, any more than you can give me what I want. I see that now.”
He started to turn away, but Mina stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Why?” she demanded, her voice trembling. “Because of my father? Or because of her? Emilia is dead, Nicholas.”
She knew at once that she had made a mistake, and her hand fell from his arm. Even with the fire burning behind him, at that moment he looked like he was made of ice, rigid and unfeeling. “Nicholas—”
“You’re right,” he said in a quiet voice. “Emilia is of the past, and now I must look to the future—to our future. I won’t take your crown from you. We will still be king and queen together, I promise. But we will be husband and wife in name only. And I don’t want your father to think of himself as Lynet’s family.”
Mina didn’t speak. She didn’t trust herself not to scream or heap curses on both her new husband and his wretched daughter. And what would she tell her father? That her beauty wasn’t enough and she had nothing else to offer? That even as a queen, she didn’t have the power to win the love of a single man?
But you don’t have that power, and you never will, Mina reminded herself. Even the adoring crowd at the feast only loved her because she was queen—and Nicholas already had a queen to love.
“Is that all?” she said when she found her voice again.
He softened then, letting out a sigh as he rubbed at his forehead. “No,” he said, “of course not. Make any request of me, and I’ll try to grant it.”
Her first instinct was to deny both his offer and his pity, but then she considered more carefully—she was queen now, wasn’t she? She had wanted both Nicholas and the crown; why should she throw away both if she could only have one?
“I want the South,” she said, a realization rather than a request. She was the first southern monarch since before Sybil’s curse—didn’t that grant her some sense of ownership, even responsibility? “When you receive petitions from anywhere in the South, I want you to pass them on to me. I decide what happens there and what projects are funded, with no interference. Will you grant me that?”