4. Princess Erralee

four

Several times today I pushed that rude cowboy out of my mind, but as much as I tried, his cocky smile kept popping back into my head, taunting me. I was about at my wit's end, trying to ignore him, when I decided to confront Father about the land. I paced forward into my father's study, finding him alone, resting with his eyes closed in a high-back armchair in front of his fireplace. A taller than normal glass of dark scotch sat on the end table next to him. It was a bit jarring to see him drinking that much, especially since he was alone.

Not wanting to disturb him, I took one step back out, but he opened his eyes. The shadows under them were grayer than the last time I saw him. Even though I felt bad for the stress he was under, it didn't stop my curiosity. "Father, who is that man living in the old Barnes house?"

"Last name's Mathews," his voice was vague, and dull, as if he was recalling the most boring part of life. He seemed to be disassociating a little more every day that the war went on. "Just got back from war. Lost an arm."

I took another step toward him, hoping to catch some facial expressions, since I couldn't tell from his words if he was speaking the whole truth. "Did you . . . sell that land to him?"

He retrieved his glass of scotch, running his thumb methodically along the rim. Around and around, I watched him rub his glass. "I did."

"Why would you do that?" My eyes narrowed, taking this loss personally. Father understood that was my favorite place on earth. I loved it more than this castle, and that was hard to do because I loved my home immensely.

"Someday you will understand." His words seemed so disjointed. Not at all as if they were even meant to be strung together. This conversation gave me the sense that my father was lost. He was acting completely out of character, and not at all like his normal direct and boastful self. "You might as well know now that I've formed an alliance with King Aswell."

"Ohhh." My voice dropped into a whisper. Something in the air was off. Father's voice was abnormally calm and stable. Not at all like his dramatic persona that enhances when he drinks.

"He's agreed to use his military to protect us. He speaks as if he's sure he can put an end to this war, but he's asked for your hand in marriage, and I've agreed."

"W-what?" I stuttered out. Father's words went completely over my head. Clearly something had gone horribly wrong with my hearing. Nothing about what he said made sense. "Excuse me, but what did you say?" I turned my head, leaning my ear in.

"I said, you're getting married to King Aswell." He raised his plump index finger, wagging it at me, reminiscent of a child who needed scolding. "The decision is made."

I blinked, taking his words like a bullet into my gut. The stern expression he fixed on me wasn't one to argue with. I'd tried that before and always failed. Yet, I couldn't stand here and remain quiet. I couldn't stand here at all . . . I spun on my heels and fled from his study.

No doubt about it, the most gut-punching thing that could happen in life is having the man who God appointed to protect you, end up being the man who was solely responsible for destroying your future.

Or maybe that's just the busting of the biggest lie I'd ever been told. Maybe Father's goal never was to protect me? Maybe it was always about preserving his name and fortune.

I scurried up the front staircase, not sure where I was going until the rumble in my stomach got too hard to ignore, and I burst through the bathroom door. The bitterness of bile diluted the burn of stomach acid as the two fluids meshed, searing my esophagus. The heat of vomit flooded my mouth before cresting my throat. Parting my lips over the porcelain toilet, I let it spill, and cried out, "I would rather die than marry that man!"

I shuddered, recalling my father"s announcement. I was blindsided. He didn't even ask my opinion. It was as casual as telling me we were having soup for dinner. No emotion.

Swiping my mouth with the sleeve of my gown, I pulled myself off the marble floor and sniffed back tears. I fled to my room. Ruenella found me in the hallway, falling into step with me. She beckoned, "Erralee, you don't have a choice."

"So, you knew about this too?" I barked out, disgustedly.

She ignored my ill tone. "The front-line army is depleted, and all the other countries are abandoning us, and pulling their troops. They are opening the draft. Our people are dying. King Aswell promised his military in exchange for your hand in marriage. His army is the strongest and most feared. They could end this overnight. Everything will return to normal if you do this for our country."

"Our people?" I glared at her, a growing wedge of disagreement swelled between us.

No, our friends. And if you think he's so wonderful, why don't you offer to marry him?

Nobody wanted this war to end more than I did. This war was defining half of my generation, because it killed the other half.

Still, two wrongs—or even thousands of wrongs—can never magically become a right . . . no matter how hard I wished it would be enough.

I fought the defeated sigh, that begged for release, by burying every thought of surrender deep into my gut. I didn't need a reminder of any of the war injustices. I was haunted by Father's hollowed-out, jumbled words as they rang over and over in my head.

My own Father had sold me!

I'd rather die than be used as a pawn in twisted war games.Even if it meant my country would be forced to continue an unjust war. Father was wrong. My country would be better off winning this war through its own blood and sweat.

I would be better off . . . disappearing.

"The only way that man will ever have my hand is if he chops it off." I spit out with disgust. I shivered as I blew through the open bedroom door, and headed to my walk-in closet, studying the garments in front of me. Everything hung neatly on perfect white hangers. Dresses made from the finest silks, bedazzled with jewels, and matching cashmere wraps. Raised as any modern princess would be, I had never wanted for anything materially, and it showed in my closet.

With seconds ticking away on the clock, I understood all too well that the only way I could get out of this marriage was if I kept time on my side.

I would pack nothing.

"Who am I kidding? I won't need any of this anymore," I murmured as I closed the doors and hurried across the room, back out into the hall, not stopping until I got to the back staircase, which was reserved for staff. I barreled down the steps, ready to slip out the back door.

I halted on my heel swiftly as ice ran through my veins.

King Aswell was in the middle of the hall, blocking my passage with a large velvet box in his hand. Slowing my steps, I straightened my spine and proceeded cautiously with a polite curtsy. "King Aswell."

"I suppose you think you are going to run away." His voice was smooth, but not condescending. He tipped his head toward me in a way that appeared humble, especially when I compared his stance to the way my father stood, tall, and stiff. His eyes were black as coal, and even though he didn't do anything to make his expression harsh, the darkness of his eyes gave me shivers.

How did he even know to wait for me here? This staircase was for staff. I tossed a look back over my shoulder, and all the way down both ends of the empty hallway. No one was around. It made no sense for King Aswell to take a post here, unless my parents had this entire castle secured. My chin quivered through my denial. "I was going to the forest."

"I won't stop you." He didn't waver from his stance blocking me, letting the pause in the conversation drag on for several beats. "Let it be known that if you do run, your father will banish you forever. Your kingdom will lose everything." His gaze lowered to the velvet box, and he studied it as if seeing it for the first time, before pushing it forward. It wasn't a gentle push, or even something that was hurried from the normal excitement you have when you present someone with a gift. It was an oddly smooth whisking motion, reminding me of how a snake slithers. Quiet. Calculated.

"What's that?" I eyed it suspiciously while heat scorched my cheeks.

"It's a small symbol of the life I'm offering you." He continued to present the box, but there was no way I was going to take it. "There's a festival tonight in the town square, and I'd like to announce our engagement. Please know if you become my wife, you will be my greatest treasure."

I turned my cheek away from the box as if it stung to look at it. "With all-due respect," I squeaked out, "there's been some mistake. We don't even know each other."

I studied his pattern of speech patiently, as I waited through his pause before he said, "Getting to know each other is not how aristocratic families make bonds."

I tried to resist a sour expression as he spoke so business-like about the engagement. Even the way he stood a proper two feet away, with perfect posture, as if we were negotiating a business contract, made my stomach ill. This wasn't the life I had wanted. Did I get a say?

He filled the silence with a low, even tone, "Your father is at the end of his resources. He's sold most of his royal farmland, art, jewels, and the national debt cannot be raised any more, but you can help him . . ." He slowly opened the box; the hinges creaked a little, evidence that the box was old, and whatever was inside was an heirloom. A gold choker, with so many blue diamonds it was impossible to count them in one sweep of the eye, sparkled at me.

Swallowing, I rubbed my neck and sucked in a quiet gasp of air as I stared into the center diamond. The light reflected off the diamond, drawing me into a light trance. The metaphorical metal cinching tighter and tighter, the room appeared to spin, and all I saw was my unhappy future with this horrid man. My airway got tighter until I finally broke my gaze from the diamond, and I was left panting. The irony of his gift being a jeweled choker was the perfect symbol of what this arrangement was to be. Stunning in all the measurements of the world, but it was merely a chain. I didn't want any part of it.

Without blinking I held his gaze. "Why me? Why not my sister? You two have much more in common."

Instead of replying, he removed the choker from the box, and painfully slowly brought it to my neck. He paused, holding the choker inches from me. His body heat permeated off his hands, making me cringe. "May I?"

"I don't know why you bothered to ask. You didn't even ask my permission to marry me." It wasn't a polite response, but it was my most honest thought. My mind was at a crossroads. One, I couldn't see far on either path. If I didn't marry this man, this war would rage forever . . . and so many people had already died, and our country would be in ruins. The stress of it all was sure to kill my father because his health had already suffered so much. Then my mother would be left to care for this broken kingdom, and I wouldn't want that either.

"You are beautiful." King Ashwell's measured words broke my thoughts as he draped the necklace around my neck. I stiffened at his touch, but he continued. "Your eyes have a fire I've not seen before." His hands were warm against my flesh as he connected the choker's clasp. I sucked in a sharp breath when I felt the cinch. "It's your spirit," he almost whispered, his hands still on my throat even though the necklace was fastened. He finally lowered his hands to his side and stepped back. His gaze penetrated me, giving me the biggest wave of the creeps. "I'm offering you anything you want, and your country will be saved."

My chin quivered, as if an earthquake lived inside my jaw. This was an impossible choice.

Of course, I wanted the war to end.

Of course, I wanted my father to have this huge burden lifted from him.

However, I didn't want to marry a stranger. I felt nothing but disgust for this old man. He was practically Father's age.

As if he sensed my trepidation, he lowered his voice. "I'm not going to force this. It's up to you, but I also won't wait forever." He reached forward, beckoning for my hand, and I timidly placed it in his. He was gentle as he brought my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the top of my fingers. Without another word, he let go and left.

My hand trembled. Unsure of what that meant, I doubted it was the start of any affection. Maybe I could eventually get there, but right now, I was repulsed.

I peered down the hall, not seeing any staff, but the knot in my gut twisted, and even though I couldn't see anyone, I was being watched. It obviously wasn't safe to flee now. I'd have to be more discreet. That meant I would have to convince them I would stay until they let their guard down. For now . . . I'd have to play along. I'd have to go to the festival tonight and let them all think I would do precisely what they wanted.