Page 4 of A Ring to Claim Her Crown
One particularly gigantic black super-yacht had drawn a small crowd of onlookers as it came to a stop a few miles out from the docks, bobbing in the bay like a gleaming obsidian mountain. There would be more just like that one and whoever owned it, more wealthy politicians, celebrities, millionaires, billionaires and whomever else her mother had decided might possibly be an appropriate match for the future Queen of Arqaleta.
For, while this week was about celebrating her mother’s reign, it was also about securing Minerva’s image as she prepared to become queen. There had never been an unmarried monarch at the time of their ascent to the throne of Arqaleta and, with public opinion inexplicably at an all-time low for their crown princess, Minerva had no other option but to find a husband...fast.
‘Mother, you know that a brand-new unmarried queen upon the throne would cause uproar. Especially when your early retirement is already breaking tradition. It is what must be done.’
‘But what if we just—?’
‘I’m not arguing. I’ve already done all of the research, spoken to countless advisors, and every one of them said the exact same thing.’ She imitated the rasping monotone of Robart, their royal parliament liaison. ‘“A life of service and dedication to this country is not enough; the Crown Princess must show allegiance in the form of matrimony and the intent to carry on the royal line”.’
Queen Uberta frowned. ‘I had hoped that you would have found someone eventually by yourself...after what happened.’
Minerva turned away, unable to stand the hint of regret in her mother’s voice and the memories that came with it. The sting of Liro’s abandonment, and the fact he had not trusted her with the truth, still hurt deeply. ‘I much prefer a royal arrangement. It’s easier.’
For a moment she thought her mother might have something to say on that matter, but she simply nodded once and let silence fall between them.
Her mother had been shocked and horrified after discovering the events with the former royal family of Cisneros. She had apologised for entering into the betrothal, revealing that it had been Parliament’s idea originally to strengthen ties with their neighbouring kingdom. An alliance that had quickly revealed itself to be a dangerous one, as the Cisnerosi crown was revealed to be heavily in debt, and King Guillermo a master in corruption and deceit. Furious, the Queen had insisted that their entire royal family, including Prince Oliveiro, be formally banished from her kingdom. Minerva had accepted her mother’s apology, but she would be the first to admit that she had pushed the bounds of her own freedom further than she’d ever intended before all of that had occurred.
She had played competitive archery in every country in the world, spending more than a decade juggling her passion and her duty. An unforeseen result of which was that now she was met with resistance from Parliament, which was now questioning the suitability of their unconventional royal.
She was not oblivious to the news headlines that had dominated the press during her many absences from the kingdom. She was portrayed as a flight risk, far more curious about travelling the world and having fun than doing her duty to her kingdom. Perhaps for the first couple of years that might have been true but, once she’d blown off a little steam, she had always strived to achieve a balance. She had made it her personal mission to show that she could nurture her own dreams and her duty as crown princess. That she could love both roles and be successful.
Her mother had wanted to give her an unconventional amount of freedom from the duties that would have traditionally been expected, such as waving from a parade carriage or shaking hands at gala dinners. But Minerva had never missed the more important events. Now, if she wanted to take her place as queen—which she very much did—she would have to choose a royal spouse to stand by her side.
But, as she gazed down at the thin rectangular speech-cards that the team had prepared for her, she felt another strange wave of unease pass along her spine—the same prickle of anticipation that had come over her earlier only now more intense. She shook it off, knowing that she should have slept later that morning and not gone down to the old archery arena to run circuits. She might no longer compete but there was no rule to say that she could not still practise.
‘Are you ready?’ her mother asked, extending her hand.
Minerva smiled, loving that this was one of the most famous images they had shown their people in the fifteen years since her father had left. They were a team—mother and daughter against the world. The Queen and Crown Princess of Arqaleta were an unstoppable force.
‘Okay, let’s go and find me a husband.’ She laughed.
The garden party was in full swing when they arrived and Minerva was swept along a line of guests, greeting and bowing and accepting their well wishes. A brief moment of girlish excitement was allowed as she spied her best friend Bea, who had arrived to stay in Arqaleta for a number of weeks to work with the team at the palace’s stables and horse sanctuary. They didn’t get to see each other much nowadays, since Bea’s work took her all over the world, and something within Minerva calmed a little at just having her friend home.
But, once they’d had a moment to reconnect, she was pulled away by duty once more. Her mother made a point of introducing her to a large number of handsome men, some of them recognisable celebrities or businessmen, some of them distant royals from neighbouring kingdoms.
She didn’t consider herself classically beautiful, whatever that meant, but she knew that her appearance was pleasant enough on the eye—proved as each eligible bachelor gazed upon her with obvious interest. Her anxiety simmered in the back of her mind as she made the required small talk with a dizzying number of handsome counts, Formula One drivers and heirs. But, as the time for her speech grew nearer, she felt her nerves peak and at the first opportunity she could manage she wandered off in search of silence and refreshment.
Someone appeared suddenly on her peripheral vision and she turned, readying herself for another bout of polite chit-chat.
‘Good afternoon,’ she said, finding a red-haired man with dark sunglasses standing a small distance away. ‘Apologies if we haven’t been formally introduced yet. You are most welcome to Arqaleta.’
She prided herself on remembering names but she was pretty sure she would have remembered this guy. He was quite striking...handsome, with a sleek trimmed beard, impossibly tall and heavy with muscles in a way that seemed to contrast violently with the fitted black tuxedo he sported. Perhaps it was his thick red hair, a rare colour in these parts. It was a colour that reminded her of heartbreak, even after fourteen years.
She shook off that ridiculous thought, far more interested in another subtle undercurrent of emotion coursing through her—excitement. She rarely felt any kind of attraction to others, certainly never upon first glance, but it was undeniable that her attention had been piqued by this burly stranger.
Minerva shook off the thoroughly inappropriate sense of physical awareness coursing through her and busied herself refilling her glass of ice-water. She certainly needed cooling down. She subtly assessed the crowd behind her, noticing her mother’s attention was firmly rapt upon them. Could it be potentially that this guy was one of the suitors Mama had hand-picked? The thought wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Or at least it wasn’t at first, until he spoke again, this time in a low voice meant just for the two of them.
‘Gracias, princesa.’His voice was a low rumble, startling her out of her thoughts.
That voice...
Minerva felt a shiver run up her arms as something within her reacted to his tone, like an odd sense of déjà vu. She frowned, taking him in fully. He seemed so very out of place in this calm, sedate garden party. As if he was merely adopting a formal façade as a disguise of sorts, a temporary mask to fit in. She rather wished he wouldn’t. She found herself wondering where those hints of tattoos led...if they covered his whole body...
Shocked at the direction of her thoughts, she took a step backwards, almost knocking over a large ice sculpture of two kissing swans in the process. The man reached out, effortlessly catching the sculpture with one hand and tipping it back into place.
Without a word, he reached out with his other hand to steady her. His touch was warm and soft, despite the fact that his long fingers appeared callused and scarred. He had the hands of a man used to manual labour, his forearms corded with the kind of muscle that came from heavy lifting. The barest hint of dark tattoos was visible along the cuff of one white sleeve, quickly hidden as he straightened and stepped back.
Minerva let out a sigh of relief and ignored the small protest within her at the loss of his warmth. All in all, this man was possibly the furthest from polished royalty that a person could get. Almost as though he had heard her thoughts and wished to affirm their correctness, he growled and subtly pulled open the top button at his collar.
