Page 34 of Autumn Queens & Shadows

“I know I should join family dinners more often, but is this truly necessary?” I asked, taking a seat.

“I’ve found you a king,” Elias said, flashing me a grin.

I raised a brow. “You gave up and have agreed to marry me?”

“With all due respect, I would still very much like to convince a certain witch that her babies should have my eyes.”

“Good luck with that,” Oryn murmured under his breath, and then shot me an almost apologetic look. “It is someone else. Someone we all think would resolve many of your issues while being a great hand of help without making it look as if Adriata is being involved.”

My blood grew cold. “Atlas and I get along, but he is engaged to Pen. I will not do that to either of them.” He was powerful, had a great seat in Adriata and the Dardanes new council formed after the war, would continue to advise kings and queens for all of his life and was possibly the most equipped to do so, but he couldn’t marry me. It would be a death sentence. And one I had no promise to give that he’d be able to get out of any time soon.

Snow suddenly blew out a cough, reaching for a glass of water and drinking it all in one go, while the rest chose to suddenly sightsee all the great wonders of my meeting room.

I blinked at all of them. “What?”

Elias, like the fool he was, smirked at me. “We weren’t talking about Atlas.”

Not Atlas.

It wasn’t Atlas who they’d thought of.

It wasn’t Atlas who’d agreed to marry me.

The man who’d agreed to marry me was waiting for me on my bed, leaning against the headboard, a bottle of unopened liquor and two glasses between his knees. A look I recognised too well etched on his face. The same look he had on his face the night he left without saying goodbye. The same look he’d worn when I’d screamed and cursed at him the last day we saw one another—that terrible day I relived for many nights. Utter dejection rested there. Like he’d travelled so far back his mind he couldn’t find a way back.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice echoing.

“Thought I’d celebrate with my betrothed,” he casually said, and stood up, still not looking at me as he placed both glasses on my vanity and uncapped the unopened bottle, pouring some on both.

“Celebrate what?”

“Whatever you wish. Though we could start with our engagement.”

Stunned, I remained staring wide eyed at him. “You agreed?” That one question felt like the wildest thing that had come out of my mouth.

“I did.” And that seemed like the wildest thing that had ever come out of his.

“Then you know that nothing about this arrangement would be real,” I said, starting to take my jewellery off, not believing myself for even entertaining the idea. I wasn’t even going to. Not until I saw him just now. Somehow, I wanted to see him hurt, angry, helpless and at my mercy. I wanted to see what would make him leave next—what would it take. “You can fuck who you want, sleep where you want, do what you want.”

“And you?”

“The same.” I looked up at him. “We’d be marrying for politics, Malik. It would not be the first or the last time a monarch has done so. Once I have the Isliners off my throne’s back, you will be set free from it. A temporary solution, but since it will cost you time and effort, I am willing to set a reward for it. Like Elias must have told you, you can have anything you desire.”

He took a sip from his drink and swallowed hard, almost as if the taste of it made him nauseous. “Anything I desire.” Not a question. Not a statement. He sounded bitter. Mulling over the words as if he didn’t understand them.

“Yes.”

“Anything I fucking desire,” he muttered to himself, backing from me to peruse around my room, touching my furniture and inspecting odd paintings. “You will have to be married to me.”

“As I said—”

“No,” he interrupted.

“You won’t do it, that is fine.”

“I will. But not to your rules.” When he put the glass down to fill it up again, I noted the shake of his hands.

Rules? What rules? “And what would those rules be?”