Page 99 of Prize for the King
“Ever since my father decided I should marry a royal princess from one of the Eleven, I had tutors. They taught me your language, the proper way to speak, and they tried very hard to instill in me proper manners, but I’m afraid their endeavors were futile. They tried to turn me into someone worthy of sitting at the Table of Kings, but I was hard to reform. Still am, unfortunately.”
I frown. He speaks with a careless air, but there is a current of frustration underneath. I get the sense Magnar feels he’s not quite adequate, and it’s so ridiculous. Even before I met him, he was larger than life, a legend. A horrid one, true, but a legend nonetheless.
Doesn’t he see? He’s more worthy of sitting at the Table of Kings than most. Their seats were inherited. He won his through many victorious conquests.
“You have great manners when you want to,” I say after I put my thoughts in order. “But I don’t think you need them. Your strength lies in being different, and you should use that instead of trying to blend in. To be honest, it’s quite unnerving when you grin with those teeth, making a rude joke, and right after that, speak like a well-mannered courtier. I’d lean into that if I were you. It will keep them on their toes, and they’ll struggle to keep up with you instead of the other way round.”
He raises a handsome eyebrow, watching me quizzically before he smiles. “That’s very good advice, my smart wife. Thank you. I’ll do that.”
I color, instantly uncomfortable at being called smart. But then… Itwasgood advice. That’s why I gave it.
Pushing through the discomfort, I mumble, “Thank you.”
Magnar laughs warmly and settles his hand on my lower back, pulling me closer. I gasp when his erection pushes into my belly. I didn’t even notice when he hardened.
“I don’t think I can handle…” I begin, but he interrupts by pressing the side of my face to his chest in an affectionate gesture.
“Ignore it, then. I want to cuddle my wife in the bath. It’s one of the things I fantasized about, and truth be told, it’s even better in reality. You’re savvy, my queen, though you could do with more self-confidence. We’ll get you there.”
“What did you expect your queen to be like?”
Magnar hums thoughtfully, his fingers running through my hair as he untangles it gently.
“I’m not sure. I had pretty realistic expectations, I think. I thought she’d be an innocent, sheltered girl, probably naïve and spoiled, easily startled. Used to luxury. Snobbish and arrogant. I braced for her sneering at me, at what I offered.
“Other times… Well, we dreamed together, me and my knights, when we were back home from the war. Often in this bedroom. The queen of our dreams was warm and pliant, insatiable, trusting. Soft and in need of protection. Generous, with wide hips made for birthing. Kind. Understanding. Responsive. Ha, a loving whore. We were men sworn to celibacy, you understand. Our dicks did the thinking.”
He snorts, and I swallow, not wanting to ask how much of a disappointment I am, yet needing to know. Magnar seems to read my mind.
“You’re very different from what I expected and much better than what I dreamed of. We’re still getting to know one another, of course, but I already noticed you are brave, beautiful, and strong. You are fair, too. I never suspected how important that was until I saw it in you. You show amazing resilience, oh, and tact. It’s something I lack, so I admire it all the more. And I’m grateful. Not once did you sneer at my home, even though it’s so different from yours. You surpassed my wildest dreams. You’re perfect.”
“Oh.”
We embrace in silence, and I listen to his strong, even heartbeat. It is very pleasant to share a bath with him, and I understand why it was something he dreamed of. I wet my hand and paint shapes and patterns on his skin, watching as droplets roll down his ribcage, and it’s at once thrilling and peaceful.
I have a man of my own. I can touch him. He evenlet me see him, well, piss. There’s something strangely exhilarating about it.
“Who did you expect to marry? If I hadn’t conquered your kingdom.”
I snort into his warm skin. “Not an Agnidari king. I’m not sure. You see, I never had any suitors.”
“How so? You’re the only heiress to Farneer. I’m sure every ruler in the Eleven foamed at the mouth to get his hands on you.”
I shrug, a bitter memory surfacing in my mind.
“Well, I… One day I asked my father. I think I was seventeen, maybe eighteen. My mother married at that age, and when she was alive, she often said I would, too. But Father never mentioned anyone asking for my hand, and that day, he told me I was too precious to give away to just anyone. He said they were all rabble, useless princelings who wouldn’t know how to cherish his prize. He said we would talk again when a worthy candidate appeared.”
I bite the inside of my lip and release a heavy sigh, pushing away the memory of my father caressing my face, his eyes feverish, breath hot and unpleasant.
“I snuck into his study later when I knew he was away and found a bundle of official matrimony offers from the other ten kingdoms as well as a few overseas nations. When I asked my governess about them, I was punished, so I let it go. I don’t know. It was strange.”
Magnar pushes my hair to the side and strokes my back with his warm palm.
“My prize,” he muses. “It’s almost like he hoarded you. Were you lonely, Caliane? Did he let you have friends?”
I laugh uncomfortably. “Well, I… Not as such, no. I had the teachers, and I met other princesses and princes at rare official functions, but Father never threw any balls, not after Mother passed away… Besides, I was awkward. I never knew how to talk to people my age. I mostly just kept to myself. I’m… flawed that way.”
Magnar growls, his chest vibrating against my cheek in a surprisingly pleasant way.
