her father would likely come back from the dead and haunt him. The second being... He could not marry her. Neither did he want to. He had arrangements made. She had been his brother’s fiancée, and the optics of taking her as a wife...
The entire country had perceived the match between Tinley and Dionysus as a love match. To take his dead brother’s future wife, particularly when his own failures were mixed in to the cause of his brother’s demise...
No matter what he thought about her ability to fulfill the role as Queen, it was something that simply could not be borne.
And there would be no touching her without a commitment.
Except you could. She wants you. You could, and no one would know.
No. Only his conscience. Only his honor.
Walking that line was why he remained.
And he would continue to walk it still.
Atonement for past sins that could never truly be forgiven.
“What is it you want?” he asked.
“I want to discuss the logistics of this ball.”
“There is nothing to discuss. It will happen. A husband for you will be found.”
“Who is doing the choosing?”
Frustration shot through him like an arrow.
“I feel it will be apparent who is right for you when you’re both in the same room.”
“Are you playing Cupid?”
“Nothing of the kind.”
“Do I get to choose?”
“You get to choose,” he said. “I’m certainly not frog-marching you down the aisle.”
A thoughtful expression crossed her face. “And who will be in attendance? Will there be anyone I can look at beforehand?”
“You make it sound as if you’re buying a used car.”
“Well, it seems only right that I be able to kick the tires of my future husband.”
“Certainly,” he said. And then he realized that he had not personally overseen any of the guest list. He had handed it off, as was his typical practice when he felt a deep aversion to something.
And he shouldn’t.
You don’t want to share.
“Well, tell me about them.”
“Of course.”
He pulled out a file for the event, and perused the guest list. He found he did know a few of them.
“Robert Martin,” he said. “He’s an American philanthropist. Very wealthy. You’ll like him.”
“How old is he?”
“Near my age, I believe.”
“Does he have all his teeth?”
“I’ve never asked.”
“Who else?”
“Marcus Weber. He’s British. Descendent of some minor nobility or another. An innovator in green technologies.”
“Well, I like the sound of both of them.”
“So there. You will be quite happy.”
“When am I expected to make a decision?” She asked. “Do I have until midnight on my birthday?”
“Tinley,” he said. “It is not so easy.”
“You’re the one who came in issuing commands. I want a timeline. Don’t you have...a way that you think this will work?”
“We will evaluate after the ball.”
“You’re very cavalier with my life.”
“I’m not being cavalier. I can assure you that I never have been, not for one moment. You have me confused with someone else.” He let the words settle between them.
“No,” she said softly. “I would never confuse the two of you.” She began to move away from his desk, and then she stopped. “You’re a king. You’re kind of...all-powerful. You don’t know what it’s like to have this much of your freedom tied up. I can leave, but I’ll leave with nothing. You don’t have any clue what that’s like.”
She had no idea. None at all. He’d had to live under the shadow of two deaths. He’d had to hold himself back when he’d wanted nothing more than to destroy the agreements made between their families.
She knew nothing about his life.
About the curse he lived under.
“I know all about not having freedom,” he said, rage pouring through him. “Do you think that if left to my own devices I would’ve chosen to live as I did? Of course not. I was born a man like any other, but I must be a king instead. Do you not think I would’ve enjoyed womanizing and drinking as my brother did? Perhaps I would have. But I had to be strong. I had to be a symbol, not a human being, and I continue to act in that way. Do you think that I’m choosing my own wife now? For sentimental reasons? Or even for the reason of desire?” He stood, and rounded the desk, which he knew was a mistake, even as he did it.
He knew it was a mistake. A dark thrill worked its way through his body. For he did not make mistakes. But he made this one, and deliberately. Because the word desire arced between them