Page 8 of The Dead Queen

Alarm shoots up my spine.

“I don’t …” I begin to protest, but my father speaks over me.

“You’re here to fulfill your duty to this kingdom, Daughter. Your duty as heir.”

I watch the king closely, searching for hidden clues. “Duty” is a complicated word with him. Anything could be painted to be one’s duty.

He reaches for a goblet and takes a long drink, eyeing me. Anticipating protest, no doubt.

I keep my voice calm. “And what, may I ask, is my duty?”

His eyes dart to Hunter’s. My stomach drops with dread.

“Marriage.”

I balk.

“Marriage?”

“Yes, that’s what I said. Don’t repeat me, Sienna.” He takes another sip from the goblet in his hand.

Hunter flushes with embarrassment, his neck and cheeks turning a fiery red. Commander Malen looks smug.

No. He couldn’t mean … “Hunter?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Everything has already been arranged, so do us all a favor and withhold your protests.”

“But why?”

“There’s no need to insult the man, Sienna. He’s the best choice for this kingdom.”

Behind him, Malen nods. That conniving, sneaky, overreaching … I refuse to be one of their pawns. Fury climbs up my spine, making the power in my sternum flare.

“He’s from a rich family and the son of one of your favorite advisors, you mean.”

“That’s enough!” Father bangs the goblet onto the table. That’s the angry face I know so well. His eyes narrow and his lips grow thin.

I glare at Hunter, who at least has the decency to look chagrined, like a child dressed up in play armor.

Father clears his throat. “I’d hoped that after your adventures, you’d be a little more accommodating. A little more respectful.”

“Adventures?” My eyes widen with disbelief. “You call healing dying men at the border an adventure? Have you ever even been there? Have you even seen⁠—”

He stomps back toward the roaring fire, waving a hand dismissively.

“It doesn’t matter what you call your absence. The fact is, things have changed since you’ve been gone. Not the least of which is the stability of this kingdom.” He lays a tightly clenched fist on the stone of the hearth. This is his tell. The thing he does when I know I’ve truly gotten under his skin: clenched fists.

He continues, “We need to give the people something to look forward to. We need to give them hope in the face of what’s to come.”

The corpse wolves, he means. Increasing war efforts against Annwyn.

“I am to be a martyr to the cause.”

He laughs lowly, incredulous. “Call it whatever you want, dear daughter. As long as you don’t put up a fuss.” He takes another slow drink, then gives me a long look. “Your kingdom needs you.”

“I—”

He looks back toward the fire. “I have very little patience with you, Sienna. Don’t give me more of a headache today than I already have.”