His father lowered his voice to a disgusted whisper. “The entire future of this country, not to mention your future as King of Albion, depends on the protection and connections that this alliance with New Hope provides.” His voice grew louder. “How will it look to voters if you toss aside an attractive, well-connected princess for a peasant whose only claim to power is through her mother’s pathetic second marriage to a king?” He scoffed. “They will say that you can’t make up your mind, that you are fickle. You will lose everything, and Joniss Doman will stand ready to pick up the pieces. I will not speak to King Bryant. You will marry Princess Seran. End of discussion.”
“No, we’re not done here.” Trev’s heart beat faster, determination racing like fire through his veins. He’d never spoken to his father like this. A part of him wanted to shy away, afraid of his anger, but Trev refused to retreat. Not this time. Renna was worth it. “I’m not going to marry Seran. Talk to your advisors, come up with a plan, a new way to spin it.”
“There’s no new way to spin it. She’s completely unsuitable to be queen. She’s a liability!” the king yelled.
“You’re wrong about her.”
A loud knock sounded at the door just before Gaines pushed it open. “You’re ten-o’clock meeting is here.” Gaines held the door open as a group of three men entered the king’s office.
The king lowered his voice so only Trev could hear. “I refuse to hear anything more about this. If you do anything to jeopardize this alliance or the election, I will see to it that both you and Miss Degray pay the price.” Then he dismissed Trev with a flippant wave of his hand.
With Gaines and the other three men watching, Trev had no choice. He gave his father a stiff nod, then turned and stormed out the door. This wasn’t over. He’d show his father that he could win the election and keep Renna. He had to.
30
Renna
Renna fidgeted with her peach dress under the dinner table, wishing she hadn’t chosen a seat at the royal table. She thought she was a good daughter by sitting by her mother’s side at dinner, even if they still weren’t speaking. But her mother never showed up. Still sick, or at least that was what Renna told everyone when she didn’t come down. Now Renna was alone, watching a room full of conversations take place around her.
“Miss Degray?” Renna’s arm jerked, hitting the table with a loud thud. The king’s intimidating voice continued, “What do you do?”
Renna looked to the other dinner guests at the royal table. Drake was in the middle of telling a story to Lizanne and Sheridan but paused when the king addressed Renna. A few high rulers down the table whipped their heads in her direction, and Trev’s body tensed next to his father. It was as if everyone at the table was as surprised as she was that the king addressed her. He hadn’t spoken a word to her since her arrival in Albion almost two weeks ago.
Unnerved by his attention and confused by the question, she replied tentatively, “Sire?”
King Carver leaned forward and laced his fingers together, eyes boring into her. “Princess Seran tells me that she spent much of her days back in Albion delving into politics, educating herself, and speaking with advisors, always hard at work learning to be a good ruler. What activities did you engage in?”
Renna blinked. “I studied with tutors . . . and I attended political functions with my mother and Princess Seran.”
“And what else?” King Carver asked, his expression thick with judgment.
Renna’s thoughts spun. Truthfully, she spent what free time she had by the ocean, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t what the king wanted to hear. She tried to think of something else, but the look in his eyes seemed to choke out any other answer. Feebly, she responded, “Nothing else.”
The king challenged her with a scowl. “You do nothing, Miss Degray?”
“I . . .” Renna’s eyes flickered to Trev for help, but he looked disappointed with her answers, making everything worse. “Nothing. I do nothing.”
The king’s face twisted into an ugly frown. “Do you have talents? Accomplishments? Connections?”
Renna tried to speak, but her mind was blank. The king’s glare ripped through her, making it impossible for her to think clearly. Everyone stared at her, waiting for an answer. “Uh . . . no, not really.”
“Hm.” He gave Trev a deliberate look before steering the conversation away from her.
Slowly, she reached for the glass in front of her and brought it to her lips. The cold liquid coated her dry throat, but it did nothing for her racing heart. She didn’t know what game the king was playing, but she had lost. Of course, a thousand answers came to her mind now that the king’s intimidating eyes weren’t cutting into her.
She wasn’t nothing.
Renna had talents and accomplishments. She knew how to work on a farm. How to prep soil, plant seeds, and harvest a crop. She knew how to sew. How to train a horse. How to fix a broken wagon wheel. She was a country girl—Kimball Degray’s daughter. She was genuine, hardworking, kind, and thoughtful. She was passionate and witty. Bold and daring. She could sit around a fire with the working class or mingle with the ruling class in a fancy ballroom. She may not have connections, but she connected with ordinary people in a way that Seran never had.
It was too late for those answers now. Her chance to impress the king was gone.
When dinner was over, Renna hung back behind the dinner guests as they were being led out to the courtyard for a surprise.
“What did you do to make the king so upset?” Drake fell into a slow walk next to her, following behind the group.
“I have no idea.” She shrugged as the cool evening air swept over her.
“He really hates you,” Drake snickered.
Renna groaned. “I know.” She leaned her forehead against the metal gate surrounding the courtyard. “He does hate me. I think he was contemplating whether or not he could have me killed at dinner right then and there.” She lifted her head from the gate. “I just need to get out of this stupid kingdom.”
Drake coughed back a laugh.
“What?” She didn’t feel like playing games right now.
He pointed to her face. “You have a grease mark on your forehead from the gate.”
Her hand flew to her head, trying to cover up the mark, but instead, grease smeared onto her fingers and across her forehead. Her eyes went wide with alarm.
“King Carver can’t see me like this!” she said, panic filling her voice.
“It’s fine. It’s fine.” Drake put his arm around her, ushering her through the crowd.
Her hand still covered her forehead as she ducked down. “I can’t give the king any more reasons to hate me.”
“Relax,” Drake reassured her. “He’s looking up.”
An explosion of light and sound burst above them, making Renna jump. The crowd squealed with delight.
“What was that?” She looked up, forgetting to cover the grease.
“Fireworks,” Drake said over the cheers.
“What?” Another explosion lit up the sky, causing her whole body to jump.