I give him my back, my arms crossed over my chest, adrenaline and rage surging through me.
“It’s a generous offer, considering the turmoil you’ve brought into my life,” the King says softly. “In addition, I swear to lie stunningly about a consummation that I promise will never actually occur—so long as you agree to do the same.”
That addition catches me by surprise and makes his offer all the more tempting. If I got enough patches from Reginald to support my father for the rest of his probably short life, I’d be there to distribute them. Maybe wean him carefully off Reginald’s dangerously high dosage.
I’d still have to wed Justin. But with the promise of a divorce in just two years! Assuming he was inclined to keep his word. Which he might not be. I can’t forget that beneath all this corporate intrigue, I’m first and foremost a witness to murder—a loose end who hasn’t quite outlived her usefulness. So what happens when I do?
Still…something to consider. Very seriously consider.
I turn to face him again. “Might I bring my manservant?” I hate that my voice trembles.
“The one skulking in the hallway?”
At that I hear a soft shifting, and Saber comes around the corner. I don’t look, but judging by the expression on His Majesty’s face, a glaring war ensues.
“I suppose you’ll need someone to unlace your damned corsets,” His Highness accedes. “If it must be him, so be it.” He looks down at my father, who’s slumped even farther down in his chair, wearing the look of a guilty child as the King and I argue over his head. “Your father has already agreed. I was about to have paperwork drawn up when you interrupted us. He is going. The only question is whether you’ll follow. You and this dandy here.”
I feel Saber ruffle at being called a dandy, but his ego is hardly my first concern right now.
As the moment draws out, His Highness steps forward, looking, for the first time in months, entirely earnest. As though we were friends. Peers. “Come on, Dani,” he says softly. “Agree. We can put this whole miserable chapter of both our lives behind us for good. Neither of us wanted any of this to begin with, and now we can be free. Say yes.”
And for a fleeting heartbeat I think I can. I think I will.
But—
But in that moment I understand what’s at stake. Not the votes. Or rather, more than the votes. If I say yes now, His Highness gains control of my father, which means he maintains control of me. But if I say no, the King loses his control over far more than just my father—he loses control over his future.
And I take it.
Which wouldn’t be alluring in the least if it were simply control for the sake of control. But the King is a murderer! I could bring him down. If I decline his offer, finish raising the money I need, and leave the night before the wedding, everything His Majesty has worked for his entire life—most especially in the last two years—will be destroyed. But more than that, if he gets away with murder once, only to gain even more power, what’s to stop him from doing it again and again? Who would question him? But if he loses my votes at the last moment, he’ll lose the board, lose his throne, lose his power over me—over everyone. And I don’t see any way for him to get it back, ever.
I would win.
He would lose.
Isn’t that justice? For Sierra? For my mother? For future victims?
A surge of adrenaline pumps through my body, and it’s all I can do to hold absolutely still. My lungs feel like they’ve shrunk to half their normal volume and are begging me to take soft, panting breaths. But I master myself. I breathe slowly, I raise my chin, and I look Justin in the eye.
“No.”
It’s as though he doesn’t hear me for a few seconds. Or simply cannot comprehend my refusing him. Indeed, I can scarcely comprehend it.
“No? How is it even possible that you’re refusing this?” He claps a hand on my father’s shoulder, looking friendly enough, but I see my father grimace from the force His Majesty likely isn’t even aware he’s applying. “Your poor father wants to go to Languedoc-Roussillon and live out the rest of his life in luxurious peace. With you by his side. You’d deny him that?”
“My father has changed his mind,” I say slowly, evenly. “My father wants to stay here.” I lower my head to glare at my father, his eyes cloudy and—I’m certain—his understanding hazy at best. “Because this is his home, where he can make himself happy.” I stress the final word, and though I fear I’m being too blunt, anything less might not get the message through. His eyes widen a few seconds later, and I breathe an inward sigh of relief that he understands.