A Royal Ruse

Chapter 35

Midnight Conversations

"Restless night for you as well, Your Highness?" The king's gentle voice interrupted Zita's midnight pantry snooping.

Zita hung her head, slightly.

"No no, don't feel embarrassed. I came down here with the same plan in mind. Perhaps I could even be of service." The king smiled mischievously.

He held a finger to his mouth as he opened a drawer. He took out a cloth-wrapped package. "If anyone asks we'll say a stray cat got to it."

He opened the cloth with reverence and handed a date cake to Zita. She took it with shy fingers.

She didn't know the king well. But he had a way of appearing when she most needed a tender ear. And she definitely needed the comfort of a sweet treat after the nightmare she had just had.

"My mother made the best date cakes. This is her recipe." He shook his head, munching with delight. "It never quite tastes the same, though. Isn't it funny how the hands that make the food are just as essential as the ingredients?"

"There are some things that can never be as they were."

Zita nodded, thinking of the butter biscuits Clera smuggled to her whenever she was feeling under the weather. Or the iced tea she had in her palace. The tea here didn't come close to it.

"Your Highness." The king cleared his throat, just like his son did. "We can make our plans but we never know when a tide may shift."

He sighed. "All this to say, I know your heart wanted to follow certain... joys. You are young. You are a brilliant woman fueled by passion and art. All the best things this life has to offer. I will never begrudge you for having fallen in love with someone of your choosing. You can't possibly be happy with the way things transpired. But this is the best possible outcome. For the both of you."

Zita swallowed the last of her cake. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, you can't possibly know what the best possible outcome is for us. Gadrian and I are practically strangers to you."

"You're right." The king steepled his hands. "But I wasn't talking about you and Gadrian."

Zita blinked, her mind drawing a blank trying to decipher his meaning.

The king pushed the date cake to the side. He rubbed his face. "I was talking about you and my son."

Zita's mouth fell limp.

"You may as well know." The king took a bracing inhale. "There is no other way for you to rule your kingdom. The relations between Arnoa and the rest of the realm are deteriorating quickly. You need to return as soon as possible. But you need the military protection necessary to take on the rebel factions in your court."

The blood drained from Zita's face. Her hands turned arctic.

"We can offer you that protection but only through an alliance... a union of our two kingdoms."

"Do you mean...?"

"You have to marry Adair. And soon."

The princess leaned against the countertop.

Her chest turned hot and sour. Her words came out like pearls slipping off a string. "That can't be - it can't be the only way. Surely there's another way."

"There is no other way."

"Has this always been the plan?"

The king tilted his head, his pity radiated off of him in waves. His silence spoke what was necessary. This was not a last resort; a slap-dash solution to a problem. Zita marrying Adair had been in the works for a long time.

"I know this isn't what you would prefer," the king stated calmly.

Zita wanted to gauge his eyes out.

"But you'll come to see that this is for the best." He continued.

Zita would later refer to this conversation as the most humbling experience of her life. An ant coming face to face with the sole of a shoe. Her future looked down on her and crushed her in unfeeling certainty.

"I can't help but feel like it would have been best if I was told sooner." Zita didn't recognize her voice as she spoke. The words were gargled by darkness and defeat.

The king tapped his index finger against the countertop between them. He looked as if he were considering the taste of something; like one does when they're undecided about whether something tastes bad or just different.

"There were numerous possibilities. This one did however seem like the most viable option from the beginning. If you want to rule your kingdom and if you finally want peace in Arnoa, which I have a strong belief that you do. You need help. This is the only way we can help you."

"The issue of you being assumed dead did inhibit our ability to have you sit in on the meetings. And you seemed to be acclimating well to life here. Maybe we underestimated just how well you were getting along with people here..." The king had a slight smile.

But Zita couldn't bring herself to engage with the topic of Gadrian in a lighthearted way. Whenever she thought about him, an icy-hot sensation ran through her veins.

"The elders of your courts are a slippery bunch as well. Conflicting and self-serving interests. I don't know how your father managed to accomplish anything."

"Perpetual Fear and threats of violence."

The king's brows flashed upwards in knowing. He knew how her father ruled. His musings were meant hypothetically.

He straightened upwards, sending the signal that he was ready to retire back to bed. Their conversation was about to be a midnight delusion. A fever dream.

"Be patient. Things will take a turn for the better soon."

She wanted to say that the words 'be patient' will always feel like violence to a person in pain. She wanted to say that all the waiting had turned her dreams against her. Now everything she used to hope for was everything she feared losing before even possessing it.

But all she managed to say was, "I see." with a broken smile behind her eyes.