Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“What are we doing here?” I ask as Misha dismounts his horse.
He hands his reins to one of his sentinels and turns to me. “It was a hard ride today, and we learned some difficult information. You handled it beautifully. The least I can do in return is take you to a nice dinner.”
I shift to dismount and cringe at the ache in my thighs.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He waits beside my horse, and when I swing my leg over the saddle, he takes me by the hips and guides me down. I’m too warm, too tangled up inside as he pulls his hands away.
He leads me into a small thatched-roof cottage that I only realize is a restaurant once we step inside. We’re met by a hunchbacked female with wings that are way too small for her body and elven ears that are too big for her head.
“My king,” she says. She takes a bow that looks painful. “I am honored that you allow me to serve you tonight.”
“Fancee, please stand. It is truly my pleasure to dine on the most delicious fare in my whole court.”
“You flatter me, Your Grace, but surely you mean the whole realm.”
He chuckles. “Indeed. My mistake.”
She turns and, with a hurried limp, leads us through the cottage. We weave our way through tables and diners and onto a back patio framed by faerie lights above and candles along the ground.
Of the four tables, only the one in the center is set. It overflows with roses and candles and crystal goblets. Someone made sure no detail was overlooked for this special dinner for the king.
“It’s lovely, Fancee,” Misha says. “Thank you for the trouble.”
“My king is courting again,” Fancee says, nodding to me. “It is no trouble but an honor to help find our new queen.”
“Oh no.” My cheeks heat. “This isn’t . . . I mean, I’m not—”
Misha squeezes my hand. “Thank you, Fancee. We appreciate it.”
She winks at me and then scurries back into the cottage.
Misha pulls out my chair. “I apologize for this.”
I sit and clear my throat as he takes his position across from me. “I had no idea you were planning such a romantic evening, my king. And courting me. That’s such interesting news. Perhaps I can know in advance before our wedding?”
“I really wasn’t . . . I’m sorry.” His cheeks go slightly pink. “I knew it would likely be nearing sunset by the time we arrived, and given how you feel about the dark, I asked her to provide us with extra lights and candles. She must’ve gotten the wrong impression.”
“Or perhaps she’s growing impatient for a new queen.”
His lips press into a thin line. “Perhaps. Everyone seems to be.”
“Are you?” I ask, dragging a finger through the condensation on my water glass.
He’s studying the lights around the patio as if they might show him the way to that queen everyone is waiting for. “Sorry—am I what?”
“Anxious for your new queen?” My stomach flips and tightens with the question. I’m both breathless and terrified to know his answer.
He blows out a breath. “I suppose that depends what you mean by anxious. My advisors are certainly anxious about it. They don’t like that I don’t have a queen and like even less that I don’t have an heir, but my sister is well. She’s next in line for the crown should something happen to me, and she has an heir if something happens to the both of us. So there’s not the urgency that they like to pretend there is.”
“And yet?” I say, propping my forearms on the table and leaning forward.
He lifts his eyes to mine. “And yet . . . when someone is given a second chance at finding love, he finds himself eager for it to fall into his lap.” He swallows. “As you said this morning, I once thought that I would be stuck with no better than what my parents had. The truth is that my marriage with Amira may have been no more than a friendship, but it was a good one. As far as marriages go, it was better than my parents’. I valued it.”
“You miss it?”
A brown, spotted hawk cries, flying over our heads and perching on a post on the corner of the patio. It’s one of the largest birds I’ve ever seen this close, and Misha watches it while he answers. “Not really. Amira’s done me the honor of remaining my friend, even though she owes me nothing.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t remain your friend out of a sense of obligation but because your friendship is reward enough in itself.”
He huffs out a breath. “Now you sound like her.”
“I don’t get the impression that’s a bad thing.”
“No. Not at all.” He traces an invisible pattern on the tablecloth. “If I marry again—when I marry again, as my advisors would prefer I say it—I certainly won’t do it for what my parents had. I won’t do it for an heir alone, and I won’t do it for something less than what I had with Amira.”