Page 11 of Prize for the King
Maybe I’ll dose myself with laudanum so I don’t have to stay conscious. Sounds like an idea.
“All right, I do,” I say, wishing for this to be over. “I accept his hand in marriage and the unlikely offspring. What else?”
“Accept his dick!”
My spine stiffens when I hear the call somewhere behind us, in the crowd of restless Agnidari watching the wedding. The Tyrant clickshis tongue with displeasure and turns to Khay, who stands by my side.
“Find out who said it and lock him up for me.”
“Yes, my king.”
The Tyrant turns back to the priest, a cool smile on his lips. “Keep going, old man.”
“Do you, Magnar the Tyrant, take Princess Caliane as your lawful and only wife, and vow to shield and protect her, be faithful to her and comfort her in every trouble?”
“I do.”
“Do you promise to guard her peace and honor, protect the crown, and welcome all children she gives you as your own? Do you vow to bring up your children in a manner befitting the future kings and queens of the nation?”
“I do.”
“Do you vow to love Princess Caliane?”
There is a pause, and I look up with surprise, my stomach roiling unpleasantly. He said he memorized the royal vows, but I never even read them before. I’ve been to a royal wedding as a little girl, but the vows did not interest me then. I had no ideathiswas a part of the rite.
When the silence stretches, I scoff. “Seems unnecessary. All royal marriages are brokered for political benefits, not love.”
“Even so, a husband must love his wife even if she’s a stranger to him before the union,” Father Saius says in his lecturing voice. He’s not trembling anymore, and good for him. “And a wife must accept her husband’s love.”
I shiver, pressing my lips into a thin line. I don’t know how I will say my vows with a straight face, but maybe I won’t have to. It looks like my groom is having trouble going through with it.
“You can still kill me,” I say hopefully.
That seems to break through his hesitation. He gives me anamused look, shakes his head once, and straightens.
“I vow to love Princess Caliane.”
The world tips sideways, a strange lightness entering my limbs. I take a shaky breath, those words burrowing into my memory despite my best efforts to remind myself they mean nothing. It’s just a part of the rite. It’s tradition.
However—no man but my father has ever said he loved me. And I always secretly wanted to hear those words, preferably from the lips of a handsome, dashing prince with green eyes and golden hair.
Well, I’ll take a fake confession from a counterfeit prince, then. Better this than nothing.
“Do you, Princess Caliane, Flower of the Crown, Diamond of the Castle, Prize of the Kingdom, take Magnar the Tyrant as your lawful and only husband, and vow to watch over his reign, be faithful to him, and a comfort in his every trouble?”
I badly want to ask whatexactlyall those things entail, and how one comforts a troubled Agnidari, but I only grit my teeth and choke out the words, “I do.”
“Do you promise to give him children, protect him from folly, and welcome him to your bed as often as he wishes?”
“Gods,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “Really? That’s… really? Why does he get to guard peace and honor, and protect the crown? That’s so noble! And I get to… be a bed warmer!”
Scattered laughs break out behind me, and the Tyrant huffs in amusement. Khay comes back, and when I glance at him, he sports a small, close-lipped smile.
“These are the royal rites,” Father Saius says with pity. “I am sorry, Princess.”
“Fine,” I spit. “I do. Get on with it.”
The Tyrant squeezes my hand, and when I look up, his eyes are on me, sly and triumphant. I quickly look away, bracing for the worst… But it doesn’t come. I don’t have to vow to love him.
