Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 192810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 964(@200wpm)___ 771(@250wpm)___ 643(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 964(@200wpm)___ 771(@250wpm)___ 643(@300wpm)
He turned.
He left the queen where she was and came to us.
He put his hand on my shoulder and looked in my eyes.
“They were never your family, Laura. From your birth, you were destined to be with us. Before we enter that room, understand this, dear.”
Great.
Now I was also fighting tears.
Safe to say, the king didn’t give good first impressions, but he was totally growing on me.
I couldn’t do anything but nod.
Aleksei drew me closer.
King Fillion looked to his son and then returned to his wife.
The king’s words helped my lungs to breathe, and my legs to be stronger beneath me.
This was a good thing when we walked into the enormous, intimidating but nearly empty throne room.
It was painted daffodil yellow.
Straight ahead, there was a line of massive rectangular windows dressed with extravagant goldenrod curtains replete with silk fringes. They exposed a view of the colorful but austere beauty of the formal gardens of the courtyard.
To the left, against the wall, there was a dais dressed in plush, amethyst carpet, which shone stark against the bright yellow all around.
Atop this, were two thrones with royal-purple velvet upholstery. The larger one was framed in gilt fashioned to look like scales with spikes jutting out dramatically, the smaller one, the same gilt, but this was fashioned as feathers. Adorning the back and sides of the dais, there were sumptuous velvet curtains of amethyst and gold, pulled back with thick silk cords ending in tassels.
And there were two gold chairs situated ten feet in front of the dais, in which my parents were sitting.
My heart squeezed as I watched them come to their feet.
My father bowed. My mother curtsied.
And neither of them did it correctly.
Something about that penetrated my anxiety, calmed me and made me feel…
Well, dang.
It made me feel like I belonged.
The king and queen strode to their thrones (King Fillion, spikes, Queen Calisa, feathers), sat, and Aleksei, Aleece and I arranged ourselves standing around them. Aleece on the queen’s side. Aleksei on the king’s, with me at his. He had his hand curled firm on the dent in my waist.
“You may sit,” the king said.
My parents did this, both of their gazes darting around, taking in the show before them and adjusting to it when they thought they’d only be dealing with the king and Aleksei.
It was then, I understood why Queen Calisa set it up like this.
This was not only a statement of family; it was a statement of status. It was a show of power.
It was intimidation.
It was putting my parents in their place.
Struggling to keep my expression neutral, I took them in.
It was clear they spent money on maintenance. They, like the king and queen, looked much younger than their years.
I had my mother’s coloring, my hair honeyed like hers and unlike my father’s dark blond. I had my father’s body, proportionate with long legs (my mother was petite).
And seeing them after this long, I was struck with what I felt.
No.
With how little of any emotion there was.
Neither of them met my gaze.
No one said anything for so long, it started to feel weird, and then the king spoke.
“You do not wish to hail your daughter?” he asked.
My father’s gaze darted to me, and he said, “We wish to…we had hoped…”
He stopped talking, raised his hand as if to adjust his collar, dropped it and said no more.
It struck me he appeared nervous, which was not something I’d seen him be in all the time I knew him.
My mother shot him a look of pure disgust (and that was very familiar), before she said to me, “You’re named after her.”
My spine went rigid as I understood exactly what she was saying.
Aleksei’s fingers dug into my waist, and he clipped, “Unless given leave, you will not address Laura directly.”
Mom’s lips parted in astonishment.
“Explain this statement,” the king demanded.
“I had a mate, your majesty,” Dad said. “She passed.”
“This is not unknown to me,” the king replied.
“He named our daughter after his dead female,” Mom spat.
And that was exactly what I understood she was saying.
Oh my gods.
Why on earth would he do that?
King Fillion turned to me and asked gently, “Did you know this, dear?”
I shook my head.
“The point of you sharing this?” Aleksei all but barked.
“The point—” Dad began.
“Every time I saw her, or talked to her, or spoke her name,” Mom cut in to say, “I was reminded that I was not her. I was not the one he wanted. And every time he”—she snapped her head to the side to indicate my father—“did it, he was reminded she was dead.”
“And this explains why you broke her wrist, her ribs, and assaulted her beast?” Aleksei asked.
I heard Aleece’s sharp gasp.
I watched my father grimace.
“He thinks, now that she has a mate, she’ll get it,” Mom said.
“She’ll understand emotionally and physically abusing a child because she’s found her mate?” Aleksei didn’t hide his angry incredulity.