The unwanted queen
739 Words
An Unwanted Queen
LUCIEN’S POV
Peace lasted exactly one night, By sunrise, the entire castle knew about Isabella. Servants whispered about her in the hallways; warriors discussed her during patrols. The council had already sent three separate requests asking to meet her. In a single morning, I guess I should have seen this coming. I should have known that they would be this frenzied once they heard of her existence in the castle.
I was beginning to remember why I hated these wolves, a sharp knock sounded against my study door.
“Enter.”
Alaric stepped inside. Unlike Killian, he at least understood the concept of waiting for permission.
“The council is gathering.”
“Let them gather.”
“They wish to discuss your bride.”
I closed the report in front of me, of course they did. For years they had complained about my lack of a wife. Now that I had one, they intended to complain about her instead. Predictable.
“What is their concern?”
Alaric’s expression remained neutral.
“The usual.”
I sighed, translation. She wasn’t noble enough. She wasn’t powerful enough, she wasn’t rich enough and, most importantly… She wasn’t one of their daughters. I stood from my chair.
“They will survive.”
“As you say.”
As Alaric moved toward the door, another thought occurred to me.
“The girl.”
He paused.
“What about her?”
“Has she eaten?”
The question felt ridiculous the moment it left my mouth, Alaric looked equally confused.
“I assume so.”
Assume. Wonderful. A castle full of people and nobody knew whether the woman I had dragged across the kingdom had eaten breakfastI pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Find someone to attend to her.”
“One of the servants?”
“Obviously.”
He waited and when I didn’t elaborate, he frowned.
“Anyone specific?”
A name immediately came to mind….Elara, young. Patient. Talkative enough to distract Isabella. Most importantly, harmless.
“Send Elara.”
Alaric nodded.
“I will see to it.”
Once he left, I returned to my desk, or at least I tried to. Ten minutes later, the door opened without warning. Killian strolled inside, again.
“Have you considered locking that door?”
I didn’t look up.
“Have you considered becoming less unpleasant?”
“No.”
“Thought so.”
He dropped into a chair opposite me, I ignored him. He ignored my attempt to ignore him.
“Elara is taking your prisoner to lunch.”
I turned a page.
“Good.”
“She is terrified of you.”
I continued reading.
“Good.”
Killian stared.
“You want her terrified?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I finally looked up because fear created distance. Distance prevented complications, complications got people killed but explaining any of that would only encourage more questions. So I chose the simpler answer.
“Because she already hates me.”
Killian leaned back.
“Fair.”
Silence settled between us, for nearly a minute. Then he smirked, I immediately disliked whatever thought had entered his head.
“The entire castle thinks you’re in love.”
I nearly choked, Killian burst out laughing. The i***t actually laughed.
“Imagine their disappointment.”
“They will recover.”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
His grin widened.
“The betting pool is surprisingly optimistic.”
I stared at him.
“The what?”
“The betting pool.”
My eye twitched, Killian looked delighted.
“Some think there’ll be an heir within a year.”
I considered murder. Briefly.
“They are fools.”
“Probably.”
He stood, still smiling.
“Unfortunately, your council disagrees.”
The door closed behind him, leaving me alone once more. Finally. I walked toward the window overlooking the courtyard. Below, pack members moved between training grounds and market stalls. Normal, orderly. Exactly as it should be. Then my gaze caught a flash of silver. A young woman standing beside Elara, golden hair. Defiant posture angry eyes. Even from this distance, Isabella looked ready to declare war on the entire kingdom.
The sight should have annoyed me, instead, I found myself wondering something far more troublesome. How long before she attempted another escape? The answer, I suspected, would be sooner rather than later and somehow that thought was even more exhausting than the council.
- Writer
