“I do indeed,” replies the King, almost jovially.
I feel rather than see Saber approach, slinking along the wall so he remains out of sight of the King but just within my own vision as I linger in the doorway. I remain silent. His Royal Highness has not yet made his play, and I’ll not reveal anything that might assist him.
Or that might assist me.
“Your father seems quite convinced that you don’t want to marry me at all. Could that be true, darling?”
“A fact you’ve always known, my lord. Let’s cease these childish games.”
“Games?” he asks, removing one hand from my father’s stooped form and walking around to his right side. “It certainly is a game sometimes. I wish this one were more fun.”
“You’re not having fun?”
But he doesn’t rise to my jab. He lets out a sigh that almost sounds like a growl. “Neither are you. Let’s end this, Danica.” He sounds oddly tired—appears more his age than usual—and I can’t help but wonder if, for once, he’s being honest. “Your father, I believe, would benefit from a change in scenery. I propose to send him into retirement. We won’t call it that, of course. We’ll call it medical leave. Wouldn’t want anyone to question his ability to vote in absentia, would we?”
“Certainly not,” I agree, waiting.
“There’s a lovely town in the south of France—in Languedoc-Roussillon—temperate. Almost Mediterranean. Sonoma Inc. has a luxury retirement community there. I could get him in. My expense. No one would question it.”
I’ve never seen the King this way. Calm. I might even describe him as gentle. The dissonance makes a strange sort of fear fill my chest.
“And I’m happy to have my secretaries manage the details. We could have him moved by the end of the week.”
It sounds beyond reasonable. But the fact is, there’s no way my father can go. I’ve seen him when he can’t get his fix, and I fear the withdrawal might kill him. Damn Reginald and the ridiculously high doses he fed my father! Although my father has failed me many times, I can’t send him to an agonizing death, no matter how luxurious his deathbed.
But neither can I confess any of this to His Highness.
I consider the possibility that I could send Father with fifty patches and tell him—but no. I’m deluding myself. I’d be lucky if he didn’t overdose and kill himself the same way my mother did. Two deaths on my hands then. No, he has to be watched.
“In exchange,” His Highness says, glaring pointedly at me, “in three weeks I’ll send you to join him, under the excuse that you need time out of the public eye to mourn your mother properly. Same agreement: full financial support in exchange for your votes always—always—in my corner.”
“Three weeks?” I echo, understanding now. “Our wedding is in fifteen days.”
“I always said there was more to you than a pretty face,” His Highness nearly coos, sounding much more himself now. “No, scratch that, I never said anything of the sort. You are, nonetheless, correct. We must still wed in order for you to gain control over the Queen’s shares.”
“Why not wed someone else? I happen to know someone who’d jump at the opportunity, with the added bonus that you’re already sleeping with her.”
His Highness leans almost languidly against the bedpost and shakes his head. “Lady Cyn? Might as well wed myself to a yapping dog.”
Though I wholeheartedly agree, I say nothing.
“Imagine, if you will,” he says at last, not losing an ounce of bravado, “my throwing you over on the very day of your mother’s untimely death, choosing Lady Cyn, and going forward with a wedding prepared for another woman. The board would think me barking mad, and half of my supporters would abandon me to obvious insanity. No, the time for substitutions is long past; it’s got to be you.”
I open my mouth, but he silences me.
“This isn’t the eighteenth century, Dani,” he says, back to that unnervingly calm voice again. “Marriage doesn’t last forever. I propose two years. Two years of a marriage that starts to crumble right from the beginning, when my distraught bride refuses to return from mourning and eventually wishes to abdicate her role as Queen entirely.” He gives a slight nod in my direction. “And during those years, I’ll enact a few exceptionally profitable policies I’ve been planning for years and win the board back. We divorce, and I continue with my original plan of marrying sometime in my late thirties for the sole purpose of reproducing.”
“Lucky girl,” I mutter.
“Indeed,” His Royal Highness snaps. “One who’ll undoubtedly recognize that fact in a way that you certainly never have.”
I raise an eyebrow.
He clenches his teeth. “I am the King, Danica. Everyone in this palace seems to understand that but you. Maybe if you gave my position the tiniest bit of respect, I wouldn’t have to shove my way about so much. In our relationship, I’m not your worst enemy; you are.”