24. James

24

JAMES

I was surprised when my father came over to confront me directly, rather than sending Jeffry as his proxy.

"Where is your vicious attack dog today?" I asked as he sat across from me.

"Jeffry is running an errand."

"Getting rid of the body, you mean."

What else would he be doing? Jeffry hated to be separated from my father. It was as though he could will himself into heir status by sheer proximity. Unless he got rid of me, it was never going to work, but he was nothing if not persistent.

For that reason alone, I should stay and make his life a living hell.

"Your mother tells me you're being foolish," my father said, his voice heavy with disapproval. "What's this about ending the engagement with Lavanya?"

"I won't marry her."

"You'll marry who I tell you to."

"I will not."

"You're acting like a child."

"I was never a child to you, but I didn't realize that being ignored was far better than having your attention." I faced him fully, meeting his gaze with steely determination. "I will not marry Jeffry's daughter or anyone else you, Mother, or anyone else associated with the throne chooses for me."

"You—" he sputtered.

"I'm not finished," I cut him off, my voice gaining strength. "I understand that I'll have to marry someday for the sake of succession, but I will pick my own bride in my own time. I want your agreement to this in writing."

"Why should I agree to that?" he demanded, bristling with barely contained fury.

"If you want me to continue on as the heir apparent, you will."

He huffed. "As if you have a choice in the matter. You are my son, and therefore my successor to the throne."

"Not if I'm dead." I pinned him with a hard stare. "Trust me when I tell you that I'm not being melodramatic or making idle threats. If you try to force a marriage on me, no matter where you lock me up or how well you have me watched, I will end my life even if I have to do that by holding my breath. You'll have to put a bastard on the throne or divorce Mother and remarry."

It was well known that my mother had suffered terribly in her quest to have a child. I was the only one who made it to term, and for all my father's faults, he loved my mother dearly. I didn't think he'd want to divorce her, and I was fairly sure he didn't have any illegitimate children, but all of that would take time. Years he himself might not have.

The indignation seemed to seep out of my father's expression, leaving him deflated. He seemed to collapse in on himself, becoming a shadow of the imposing figure he normally cut. "I don't understand you. You barely knew that girl. How could you let her death change you so completely?"

"Change me?" My laugh sounded harsh and bitter. "She didn't change me. I was the one who left the palace in secret and went out to mingle with our people night after night. I was the one who stole gold to pay for things I did not have credits to pay for because I was held a prisoner in this gilded cage. I was done being your obedient and clueless son, and I was ready to become the ruler my people needed me to be. Seeing them with my own eyes and hearing them talk with my own ears, I learned things I could never have learned from inside the palace walls."

He sighed heavily. "Very well. Have it your way. I will end your engagement with Lavanya. She's going to throw a fit, and her father will not be happy."

I fully expected to get an earful from her as soon as she found out. I didn't care. "I'll deal with her, you deal with Jeffry."

"But I want your word that you'll consider other proposals from the peerage," he pressed on. "No locking yourself away and living the life of a monk. You need to be married, James. We need to show the people of Londabad that their monarchy has stability."

"We're entirely superfluous to most of the people of Londabad," I replied, thinking of the poverty and struggle I'd witnessed beyond our gilded walls.

"The fact that you think that shows you know nothing at all of how this city works."

"The fact that I don't know how it works shows your failings as a teacher," I snapped. To my surprise, he nodded, a flicker of something like regret crossing his face.

"That's true. You'll be spending more time with me from here on out, learning more about our trade agreements and how to handle the peerage." He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Does ending your engagement to Lavanya earn me your forgiveness?"

"No," I said with perfect honesty. "I'll never forgive you for killing Adina." The words hung between us, heavy with finality. "But I will work with you and learn to be a king. I will endeavor to play my part as your son."

I deserved to suffer, and I needed to atone for the crime of bringing death to Adina. The best way to do that was to try to make Londabad a better place for people like her. She had never had a chance to rise above her station. I'd see to it that other children would.

"I suppose I'll have to live with that," he said.

"We both will."

To my surprise, he inclined his head to me, a gesture of respect I'd rarely seen him bestow. Then he rose to his feet and left the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence he left behind.

An hour later, a formal contract dissolving my engagement was delivered for me to sign, along with another stating that I would be allowed to make my own decision on a spouse—provided I entertained every serious offer that came my way. I signed both documents without hesitation and sent them back.

"Will you rise now?" Ravana asked, his tiger face as calm and courteous as ever.

"I suppose I will." I knew I'd feel better in fresh clothes. After all, if I was about to be confronted by a screaming harridan—and I had no doubt that I was—then I needed to be properly armored.

As I changed, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The face that stared back at me was haggard, eyes sunken with grief and exhaustion. But there was a new resolve there, too, a determination that hadn't existed before. I would honor Adina's memory not by retreating from the world but by working to change it.

Today, I'd deal with Lavanya and the fallout from our broken engagement. Tomorrow, I'd start working to better my city, to understand its intricacies and complexities in a way I'd never bothered to before. I would learn to be the kind of ruler that Londabad deserved, who saw beyond the palace walls and worked to benefit all its citizens, not just the privileged few.

But tonight, and every night that followed, I'd mourn Adina. I'd remember her bright eyes, her quick wit, and the way she showed me a world I'd never known existed. I'd carry the weight of her loss, using it to fuel my determination to create lasting change.