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“What do you mean?”
“His Majesty has been clearing villages since his father died. These rifts must have something to do with the famine and decay spreading through Ilusauri.”
They rounded the corner and arrived at their destination. Claude was waiting for her, flanked by his two guards, Pierre and the massive man Dagmara didn’t know.
Dagmara stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn’t seen the king since Nouchenne when he had been coated in blood. Now, he wore a regal, silver doublet with a cape down his right arm. His dark skin was gorgeous in the light, and his eyes radiant like a guardian’s.
“You look…” Claude’s voice trailed off. His eyes wandered at every portion of her body until he abruptly cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on her face. “You look presentable.”
Her brow furrowed. “I would hope so.”
“A moment alone,” Claude demanded, and at once the guards left his side. They strode a few paces away, followed by Martine, until they were out of earshot but remained in sight.
Dagmara didn’t know why she felt her stomach erupt in butterflies. The last time they were together, he slaughtered hounds to save her. Was there something about him rushing to her rescue that made her feel this way?
“Madame Annette is currently in discussion with your lead advisor, negotiating an equivalent trade for food and medicine until the routes are officially opened again. We will both have to sign off on the agreement when they write up the contract,” Claude explained. “However, I sent a small shipment of medicine to your mother in the meantime.”
“Oh,” Dagmara brushed her hair behind her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“We can discuss territory and political implications later,” Claude stated.
Dagmara only nodded. She never thought it would get so far as to discuss politics. That was something Magda excelled at, not Dagmara. How was she supposed to make decisions for the entire kingdom of Azurem? Was she even allowed to?
Noting her silence, Claude continued, “To be honest, I don’t like this anymore than you do. I don’t like the stunt you pulled going to Nouchenne, and I don’t trust you,” he said, catching her off guard.
Dagmara shrugged. “You haven’t given me much reason to trust you.”
Claude scoffed. “Well then I hope you are a good actress. The nobles and leaders have to think we’re united. And they will object to two guardians marrying. It hasn’t happened in centuries. So we must convince them we love one another.”
“Convince them we’re in love?” Dagmara let out, followed by a short laugh. “You could have given me some warning, Your Majesty.”
He strode toward her, clearing the distance with three steps. His cologne wafted toward her, consuming her in its elegance. “Are you having second thoughts?” he asked.
“Not at all. I’m just not certain you can convince these people you’re in love with anyone, let alone me.”
“I appreciate your concern, but you don’t have to worry about me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “We will see about that. Is there anything I should know before meeting your people?”
“Nothing specific,” he said. “We’re supposed to perform a dance that is customary to Ilusaurian traditions, but don’t worry about that.”
“I learned the dance.”
He blinked, his jaw slackening as he searched for words.
“You do know the dance, right?” Dagmara asked. “Don’t tell me I learned it for nothing.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I know it.”
“Good.”
He nodded toward the guards, and they approached, preparing to open the doors. One of them gave a special knock, notifying the guards on the other side that they were ready to make their appearance. A symphony of horns majestically rang in the ballroom, their sound only muted by the door. An announcement would shortly follow.
Claude extended his arm to her. “Shall we pretend we’re in love for one evening? Then we can return to disliking one another.”
“I said I didn’t trust you, not that I dislike you.”
“I knew from the moment you laid eyes on me that you loathe me. It’s mutual if that makes you feel better.”
