Page 102 of Prize for the King
“But isn’t that what being king is all about? My father spent most of his time in meetings, listening to reports on agriculture, trade, suggestions for changes in law, amber import, all kinds of things.”
Magnar throws his head back with a long huff. Khay comes over,toweling himself off as he crouches by the tub with his arms folded on the edge right by my side.
“He enjoys being a martial king,” he says with glee. “The kind who goes to war, makes conquests, gets to swing his sword. Of course, he does the other parts well enough, but he hates it. Magnar would much rather keep conquering the continent until he dies, and leave his heirs the chore of managing his empire.”
“We have a bet going,” Arvi adds from the washing corner. “I say he’ll go to war again in two years, seeing as he’ll want to stay home for your first pregnancy and raise his kid. Khay says a year and a half.”
I frown and look away, my chest tightening with grief.A year and a half.That’s an awfully short time to enjoy my new life that I already love. This morning is only a glimpse of our future together, and even though I’m sore and achy, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.
“I won’t,” Magnar says urgently, cupping my cheek. “Look at me, beloved. I won’t go to war again. I’ll find other ways to satisfy my violent nature in times of peace. And if you help me handle the burdens of ruling, I’m sure I won’t hate it.”
“Help you?” I frown, taken aback. “Help you how?”
He takes the soap from my hands and answers, running his lathered hands down my arms.
“However you like. You can listen to those reports with me first, and then, maybe handle some areas on your own. Trade, honey export, diplomatic relations—take your pick. I keep the army and military matters to myself, but the rest is yours if you want it.”
I snort, certain this must be a joke. Magnar’s eyes narrow as he studies my face, and Raduna clears his throat.
“I’m sure you must remember, my king, that only men sit at the Table of Kings. Queens usually occupy themselves with charity work and running balls.”
“Barbaric,” Magnar scoffs. “You’ll sit at that table with me, love, nomatter what those old fuckers say to that. I’m not facing them on my own.”
I squeak when he lifts my arm and washes my armpit, tickling me with a mean smile. My mind is reeling, and his playful assault only makes it worse until I can’t control myself.
“But I’m not fit to rule!” I explode, snatching my arm away. “I know precious little about your country, and I don’t even speak your language! Also, I’m a woman. No one will respect me at the Table of Kings, and your people probably hate me because I’m human!”
Magnar laughs, cupping my cheek with affection, and I snap my teeth at him, exasperated. That, of course, only makes him laugh harder.
“See, Khay? I don’t have to go to war. I have my wife to wrestle, and another fight on my hands. We’ll make them accept you at the Table of Kings, start calling it the Table of Queens and Kings. As for my people, we’ll show them you’re the best thing that ever happened to Roharra. You’ll learn everything you need. We have time.”
I shake my head dubiously, a pit of anxiety opening in my stomach. “You’re having horrendously high expectations of me, and I will inevitably fail you. I’m sorry.”
Magnar shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “Sure, you’ll fuck up. Everyone does. But love, only people who never do anything avoid failure. I’m convinced you will achieve great things, and that’s enough for me.”
He grins seeing the grimace of disgust on my face, and rubs my cheeks until my expression calms.
“You’re telling me you expect me to failandsucceed at the same time,” I say, shaking my head.
“Mmm. I’m giving you permission to fail over and over without punishment or repercussions. In my books, as long as you keep trying after you screw up, you’re winning. Can you consider thisperspective?”
I’m not sure, but I nod, and Magnar nods back. “Perfect.”
He grabs my breasts in his soapy palms, and I gasp as he thumbs my nipples. Arvi groans from where he stands by the washbasin, where he’s brushing his teeth.
“You said she was supposed to rest,” Khay complains.
“What’s more restful than a bath and massage? Right, pet?”
I moan as he rolls my nipples between his fingers, the slipperiness of the soap making the experience delightful. Still, I shake my head. Magnar stops with a sigh, rinsing off the soap without further shenanigans.
“Forgive me. I’m just trying to put off donning my crown, but it’s no use, eh? If I want my queen to thrive, her kingdom must thrive, too. All right, I’m getting out. You soak a bit more. You deserve it after last night.”
I finish washing and ask Raduna to help me get out. Soon, I am dressed and eating with all my men. We’re sprawled around the table, lounging on ottomans and cushions, and it’s quiet and peaceful. I don’t hurt as much thanks to the bath, and they keep yawning, even Arvi, who spent much of the night unconscious, from what they say.
“I thought breakfasts at the keep were served at the table, not in bedrooms,” I tease, remembering Khay’s words from what feels like ages ago.
He laughs under his breath, his eyes gleaming. “But that was before we had such a beautiful queen everyone wants to pamper.”
