won’t be pleased that we sentenced one of their own without a fair trial or jury.”
Father throws his head around, glaring at me. “I won’t have my judgment questioned by a whoremongering idiot.”
“A king who threatens to cut tongues out fears the voice.”
He sinks into the fur-lined blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his features gaunt in the flickering flames. “Do I look afraid?”
No, you look like a crusty old man.
“I heard you met the potential brides in town today and rejected every single one of them.”
I grind my teeth. Marriage. The firstborn prince must marry. It’s practically been beaten in my head since I was born. “I don’t want to choose my wife from a stable of women.”
“You’re twenty-eight years old, Liam. A king needs heirs, and if you want to succeed me, you will marry. This month.”
“Fuck that.”
“If you don’t, then I’ll assume you’re not serious about your duty to the country. I will strip you of your titles. I will empty your bank account, and you will never be able to fund your drinking and whoring.”
If only I could just leave it all behind. He has no fucking idea how little I care about the money, prestige, and power. It’s the country I can’t leave behind.
“And how will you explain that to the public?”
“I will pass on the throne to one of your younger brothers. Lucian, perhaps.”
I have five younger brothers—five. You can imagine the horror growing up. I’m the oldest, and Lucian is the second followed by Tom, James, Chris, and Will. If Father decides I’m not good enough for the job, one of my brothers can take my place. The fucking bastard could disinherit and banish me as well.
“Lucian isn’t remotely ready for the throne.”
“He’s one year younger, and I never had to field questions from reporters about his activities.”
The circular room rings with my hollow laughter. “If you think Lucian is somehow more mature because of the lack of Dirty Prince headlines, you should stop by his quarters during one of his parties.”
“I do not give a damn what he does in privacy. Either you pick a bride this month, or I’ll give the throne to him.”
“Pick a bride.”
Father smiles at my contemptuous tone, the yellow glaze sliding over his sickly eyes. All my life he’s been holding the damn inheritance over my head like a butcher knife. What better way to get back at him than to choose someone he’ll hate? Someone completely unsuitable to be my wife.
I smile to myself.
I’ll choose a bride, and you’ll hate her.
I’ll marry the fucking American.
This is mad.
One month to choose a bride, and it might as well be her. I’ll be stuck in the same position if I choose an empty-headed, pretty girl high in Anglefell’s high society. We still won’t know a damn thing about each other. Picking a wife on a whim is a fool’s errand, so I might as well pick the girl who will drive my father absolutely batshit.
And there won’t be a thing he can do about it.
I descend the stairs of my father’s tower and pass the throne room on my way out of the keep.
Maybe you should ask one of your brothers if this is a good idea.
Can’t do it. Five brothers vying for the throne means five opportunities for one of them to tell Dad.
The darkened courtyard is mostly deserted, except for a man I immediately recognize as Lucian. He’s tall and strapping, with boyish good looks. He’s fair where I am dark. As much as I look like my dear old dad, he resembles Mum. Too bad he’s an utter ass.
He leans out of his black Mercedes and extends a hand, helping a girl wearing an aqua cocktail dress out of the car. She totters on her heels and clutches at his chest, mouthing something incoherent.
“Iz this your cas—castle, Lucian?”
“Yes, my dear. But you ought to remember who I am, or are you really as stupid as you look?”
Her flushed face darkens. “Prince Lucian.”
“There’s a good girl.”
My brother’s foul lips spread into a predatory smile that sets my alarm bells off. Gritting my teeth, I head off in their direction before my piece-of-shit brother can drag her into his room.
Lucian’s hand curls over the girl’s shoulder as he tosses the key to the valet, who snatches it out of the air. My footsteps clip loudly over the dark road.
“Lucian!”
My voice rings out before he can take another step toward the door that’ll lead him toward his chambers. My