by Vivien Vale
“Oh, no.” I’m dreading this already. “Don’t tell me.”
“I know it’s going to be painful, but I need you to pretend you still want to marry Fergus.”
“No!” I stand up in a fury. “Absolutely not! You punched him in the face. How am I supposed to just waltz back to him and pretend like nothing happened?”
Drew stands up with me, and I realize he’s still naked. My eyes drop quickly to his cock, which knocks gently against my thighs.
How badly I just want him to take me again. And again.
“I know it looks bad,” he says, looking into my eyes, “but I’ll apologize to him and try to smooth things over.”
“And you think that’ll work?” I feel skeptical.
Evil Fergus accepting an olive branch from his arch nemesis? The same arch nemesis that just socked him in the face? I’m not feeling optimistic about it.
“It’ll have to work,” Drew says as he rubs my shoulders. “I just need more time to figure out how to take him down.”
He looks deep into my eyes, and I feel my entire body convulse.
“Are you in?”
I look out to the sea, feeling the air as it blows through my hair, and turn back to him.
I want all of this. And if I want it all, then I have to play this game a little longer.
“I’m in.”
Chapter 17
Drew
The morning is quiet and peaceful. Unlike my mood, which is thunderous and unrelenting. It kills me to apologize to that slimy little man, but plans are plans, I remind myself.
Images keep flashing through my head. The way he was touching Ash. The way he just kept going, even while she begged him to stop.
I clench my fists.
I should be punching him again and sending him on the first ship to the bottom of the ocean.
Cool it, Drew. This is no time to play the hero. You got to have your cake and eat it too last night.
This morning you have to be humble.
The castle is quiet at this time of morning.
A little humming from the bees in the orchards. A little whispering from the trees. A little bustle from the kitchens and from the stables outside.
But mostly I can just hear birds joyously singing, mocking my wrathful mood. My footsteps echo across the corridors as I get closer and closer to the dreaded conversation.
I take a few seconds to collect myself outside the door. Breathing deeply and looking out on the rolling, green hills that lead down to the sea. It’s a clear and sunny day.
I love this place. I love Ash. I want Ash to love this place.
If I keep my cool and don’t show my hand, maybe I can have all that.
After a few seconds, I knock on the heavy oak door.
“Come in!” Fergus booms.
He’s sitting on a chair by the window, drinking a cup of tea and reading a slim little volume on war I recognize from my school days. Despite the bruise growing on his temple, he’s a picture of calm. I’m taken aback, but I don’t show it.
He looks up as I enter the room.
“Ah, Andrew. Pull up a chair, sit down, sit down.”
This is strange, very strange. Normally men are not this calm the day after you’ve knocked them out. Especially not snide, violent men who thought they were going to get a little action.
I play his game—curious but with my guard up.
I pull up another red leather armchair and sit opposite him. I hate seeing this nasty man in these rooms I have worked so hard to keep beautiful, but I keep my cool. Diplomacy training is worth its weight in kingdoms.
I search his face for some sign as to why he’s so eerily relaxed. But he’s impassive. Nevertheless, I push on with the plan; it’s a good one.
“Fergus, I came here to apologize.”
He puts down his teacup, closes his book and looks me dead in the eyes. I see false sincerity, and I see no warmth in there.
“I’m listening, Andrew.”
“As you know, I consider Ash—Princess Aisling to be my ward while she’s here. She is under my protection. And as such, it is my duty to see that no harm befalls her.”
“This I do understand. Continue.”
“Nevertheless, I acted out of turn last night. I walked in and saw one thing and thought I saw another thing. I jumped to conclusions. You will have to forgive my soft, protective heart. I spoke with Aisling afterwards, and she has assured me that she was enjoying her time with you as much as you were with her. I acted out of turn.”
“That you did.”
“I hope you will accept my sincere apologies. This alliance means the world to me. And an alliance must be one of genuine friendship. I hope you can understand that my actions were out of a misguided sense of that friendship, and that I deeply regret them.”
I hope he can’t hear how fast my heart is beating or sense the sweat on my palms. So much rests on his reaction to my apology. He picks up his teacup and studies it for a while, takes a sip of tea and savors it.
He’s drawing the moment out. He looks out at my countryside. Then, he turns back to me, looking straight through me again with those soulless eyes.
“It is true, Andrew, that you have a soft heart. And perhaps too soft a spot in your heart for my fiancé. And it is true that you acted out of turn...”
I don’t like where this is going. I steel myself for war.
“However, it is also true that you acted from a sense of friendship and from a respect for the alliance. If you can promise me no more heroics, I can promise you that there are no hard feelings.”
Wait, did he just accept my apology? That quickly?
Relief floods through me—but also caution. I have seen enough men and diplomats come through this castle. I know an ulterior motive when I see one.
And I understand men like Fergus. Mean, greedy little men who are always holding out your jacket for you, so they can help you put it on with one hand, while knifing you in the back with the other.
There’s a big, blue bruise blossoming on his forehead, and there’s no way that a man like that is going to let something like this go down lightly. Not when I’ve damaged his vain, over-groomed face.
No. Something is up.
However, for now, this is the perfect response. I need him on my side. I need him to keep thinking I’m a softhearted, useless wannabe-hero.
So I smile the biggest smile I can muster.
“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”
“I, too, am relieved you came to talk to me. I want everything to go smoothly for the wedding.”
“Then we are agreed.”
He stands to shake my hand and tries to intimidate me with the firmness of his grip, but mine are hands that have melted steel—nothing intimidates them. He is smiling, too, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
We briefly talk logistics for the upcoming wedding. Feasts and food and wine and music. I assure him all plans are underway.
You wish, Fergus. There will be no feast.
And then I bid him a good morning and head back into my castle.
I don’t go back to my rooms. The next step is, of course, to find my most trusted servants. I’m thinking hard, turning over our encounter as I head toward the kitchens.
If Fergus wants to keep an alliance with a man who violently assaulted him, he’s either got something horrible up his sleeve, or he needs this alliance more than all of us.
Or he’s completely mad. All three seem likely.
This time of the morning, most of the staff are in the kitchens. Talking and eating a late breakfast. I let these things slide.
Morale is important; happy staff are loyal staff. I pick a handful of my most trusted men and women from the kitchens, the room cleaning and the stables, and we walk together to the rooms of my advisor.
Once the door has been shut and bolted, I begin to explain the situation.
“I’m sorry,” I tell them. A good leader always apologizes for putting others in dangero
us situations. “I’m sorry for bringing Fergus here when I do not trust him at all.”
Cath, the head of household and the maids, chimes in.
“Me neither! He’s a nasty man. He has allowed his men to give my maids no end of trouble! Pinching them! Flirting with them! Trying to lure them into darkened corners!”
“Yes, Cath, this is exactly what I’m talking about.”
“And,” Roderick, head of stables adds, “he was asking me a lot of questions about the farmland and imports and exports here. A lot. Far more than just a casual interest. A creepy interest.”
I nod gravely.
Even my calm-headed advisor sounds worried when he adds, “You’re right to be concerned, King Andrew. That man has a crocodile smile.”
“So,” I go on, “this is why I’ve called you here. I don’t trust Fergus at all. Not to build an alliance with, and not to marry a good woman like Princess Aisling. I’ve gotten us into this mess, and I’ll get us out of it. But I need your help. I want you to keep an ear open to any conversations you hear involving Fergus. Be subtle, but be alert as well. We need as much information as we can get.”
They all nod somberly. I would trust these people with my life. I thank them, and after they troop out I bar the door again and turn to my advisor.
We have some planning to do.
Chapter 18
Ash
As I sit in the hall of the castle that overlooks the gardens, I glance over and see Fergus walk in with an advisor, and I can’t help but glare at him.
The man makes me sick. It’s not just the way he talks to me or the blatantly obvious distaste he has for me and my people; it’s the way he carries himself. He treats everyone like they’re some form of lesser being and that they should be thankful to even be in his presence—the arrogant prick.
I swear to God, if I didn’t know Fergus has some sort of plan, I don’t think I’d be able to go through with this.
I know this alliance is good for my people, but spending the rest of my life with someone like Fergus? And after what he did to me that night at dinner? I don’t think I could do it.
I can see Fergus talking to his advisor, and they seem to have come in here for some privacy for their discussion; their eyes are darting around nervously making sure no one’s listening in on them.
I’m alone here, sitting on the bench—other than Fergus and his advisor now, of course—and thankfully Fergus hasn’t noticed me yet, the stone pillars hiding me from his view.
What on Earth could they be talking about that requires so much secrecy—and right before our wedding?
I decide that I need to hear what they’re saying and stand slowly from the bench. Then, I quietly tiptoe over behind the divider wall that separates the hall from the entrance.
Their voices are hushed whispers, speaking urgently but trying not to be heard or walked in on, and I have to really focus on listening. As I lean against the wall and listen, my eyes widen, and my heart thuds in my chest when I hear what they’re saying.
“Well,” Fergus hisses, “none of that will matter once I invade their land and take it for myself; they won’t have a choice. After all, it’ll all be mine anyway once I marry her.”
Invade their land...what? Surely, he can’t be talking about invading us when the whole reason for this marriage is the formation of an alliance.
I continue to listen and try not to get ahead of myself, but the more I listen, the more fearful I become.
“I understand that,” the other man retorts, “but what about the girl’s father? Surely he’ll object and form some sort of resistance. His people are loyal to him.”
“I’m sure he will,” Fergus says with a sneer, “but I’m pretty sure the old man is going to have an ‘accident’ that will render him fairly useless against me; he’s not going to be an issue.”
My father? What’s he going to do to my father? That fucking bastard!
A gasp escapes my lips before I can stop it, and I immediately clap my hand to my mouth in a feeble attempt to silence myself, but it’s too late.
Fergus has heard me. He and his advisor come stalking around the wall to confront me, a smug grin on his face when he sees it’s me.
“Well, well well,” he sneers, “look who it is. My adoring fiancée. Hear anything interesting, my love?”
I scowl at him and shake my head, barely able to form words. I’m so furious with him.
“You‘re such a terrible person,” I spit, pointing a finger at him, “and there’s no way you’ll get away with this.”
He has the nerve to laugh at me, right in my face, and he looks over at his advisor who’s got the same smug grin plastered across his ugly mug.
“Ohhh,” he teases, his hands in the air in mock surrender, “you’ve found me out, what will I do now?”
He laughs again, this time turning back to me with a scowl on his face as he leans in, his face just inches from mine now.
“You’re powerless in this, and you might as well accept that. You’re going to marry me. I’m going to take possession of your land and your people, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it, understand?”
“I won’t marry you.”
“Oh,” he says with a chuckle, “but you will. Otherwise, I’ll make sure your father’s accident will be...fatal. Do you want to see your father again, Princess Aisling?”
That slimy, manipulative bastard. He’s using my father against me, and as much as I hate to admit it, it’s working.
“Well,” he prompts, raising his brows as he takes my hand, “do we have an agreement?”
Reluctantly, I nod, my eyes starting to brim with tears as I take his hand and follow him outside to the ceremony.
When we get down there and everything starts, Fergus takes my hand and leads me down the aisle. I’m having a hard time fighting back the tears. I know that this marriage is supposed to be best for my country, but given what I know now, I’m not so sure.
We arrive at the altar, and my heart sinks. Is this really going to happen?
How the hell do I fix this? And where is Drew?
As if on cue, the audience murmurs and gasps collectively as Drew comes blaring into the orchard on horseback along with a few of his men, in full attire.
Fergus whips around and glares at Drew, throwing his arms up in the air as he questions him.
“What do you think you’re doing interrupting our wedding like this?”
Drew chuckles and shakes his head at Fergus, standing his ground with his men.
“Fergus,” he chides, “did you really think you’d get away with this, that I wouldn’t find out? In my own kingdom?”
Fergus looks around nervously, and the crowd does the same. No one’s really sure what’s going on.
“I...I don’t know what you’re talking about, Andrew,” he stammers, shaking his head. “And what nerve you have, throwing accusations like this in my own wedding...”
Drew cuts him off with a wave of his hand and a firm holler, causing all the people present to go silent.
“Enough!” he booms, getting off of his horse and walking toward us. “Cut the act, Fergus. I know all about your plan. In fact...” he starts with a grin, “I’ve known for two days, and I’ve made some adjustments.”
Drew smiles at me and winks, then looks back at Fergus with a scowl.
“You’re finished, Fergus.”
Oh, thank god.
I smile back at him and revel in the sight of Fergus visibly starting to panic, looking desperately at his men.
“Men, get this treasonous man out of here! He’s spewing lies and...”
“Spewing lies, am I?”
Drew looks around at both his and Fergus’ men—none of whom are moving to help their king—and then back to Fergus with a smile.
“If I was spewing lies, don’t you think that your men would be springing to action to defend your honor, right now? They’re not, because you’re a vindictive, greedy, selfish ruler who doesn’t care
about his people or their needs.”
He turns to the crowd and addresses them, pointing to Fergus as he speaks.
“This man here had no intention of honoring the peace treaty with the princess and her father. He intended to marry her simply to take control of the land and use its resources for his own kingdom. As it turns out,” he adds while raising his brows, “his kingdom is quite short on food, and he planned to seize control and use the princess’ land to feed his own, by force.”
The crowd is wide-eyed, and a number of fearful gasps are heard, the family on either side not believing what they’re hearing.
“But fear not,” Andrew says with a firm smile, “I’ve taken control of the nation myself, peacefully, without any pushback.”
He turns to Fergus and shrugs, a toothy grin spreading across his face.
“Turns out none of your subjects actually like you very much, Fergus. That’s what happens when you treat them like dirt. So, I arranged a new peace treaty—one that doesn’t involve you ruling anyone.”
Everyone at the wedding is looking at Fergus with disgust now. He tries to speak, but Andrew once again cuts him off.
“No, Fergus, you’re done. And my first order of business in enforcing this new treaty is placing you under arrest.”
He nods at the guards with him, and they advance on Fergus without question, taking him into custody. Fergus, knowing he has lost, barely puts up a fight.
Calm washes over me, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I watch them take Fergus away, and Drew waltzes over to me with a smile.
“I guess the wedding’s off now,” I say with a smirk. “Not that I mind obviously.”
Drew chuckles and cocks an eyebrow at me, grinning.
“Well,” he croons, “your wedding to Fergus is off, sure. What do you say about a wedding to another king? Say, one who’s dashingly handsome and has just saved the day, hmm?”
I beam at him and nod eagerly, and he takes my hand in his as we turn to the minister, who’s looking bewildered by all of this.
“Well, since you’re already here and everything’s all set up,” Drew says, chuckling at him, “might as well have a wedding, right? Go on.”
