Betrothed to Trouble

Chapter 18 - Mixed Feelings

“I told you to be careful, son!” hissed King Alekzander furiously as he glared at his son accusationally. “Look at what you’ve done!”

“I know what I’m doing, Father,” Sergei retorted curtly, with an eerie calmness that stemmed from years of practice.  The truth was he was anything but calm. His mind was a cacophony of thoughts, all jostling for his attention. Why did he do it? It suddenly came to him, and before he could consider its consequences, the deed was done.

“You know what you’re doing?” mocked the king incredulously. “From what I saw with my own eyes, you just undid everything you’ve worked for in the last few days! And in front of the entire kingdom no less!”

“It’ll be fine, Father. I know how to handle this,” Sergei desperately tried to console his overwrought father, for he was eager to end this miserable conversation and deal with the chaos that was his head.

“Everything was going so well, and you just had to mess it up, didn’t you?” King Alekzander sighed gruffly, eyeing the young prince in dissapointment. “I don’t care how you do it, son, but the wedding is the day after tomorrow, and this should be resolved by tomorrow,” he muttered threateningly, fixing his cold gaze on his son’s expressionless face.

“Yes, Father,” Sergei nodded, bowing stiffly at the order.

“Good,” he nodded, eyeing his surroundings surreptitiously. “Remember our goal, son. Keep that in mind,” he whispered sternly, before turning around and briskly walking away in the direction he had come.

Sergei let out a slow, ragged sigh and leaned against the cold, stone wall of the corridor grimly. His father was right. He had let his recklessness get in the way of their goal. This was his job, his mission,  the most influential and critical part of their plan. It had sounded so simple, and it had been going surprisingly well until he messed it up tonight. No doubt, she was angry at him. The look of betrayal and shock on her face as she wordlessly stormed out of the ballroom had haunted him to this very moment. And how could he ever forget the whispers that rippled through the entire ballroom as he sat there on the chaise lounge in a drunken daze instead of running after her? The softness of her lips –

“Sergei!” a gruff, and unmistakeably furious roar filled the corridor, and Sergei immediately straightened up in surprise, barely managing to hide his shock as the Ansodrian king marched up to him with an expression that screamed bloody murder.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed quickly, carefully rearranging his features so that it would not betray his apprehension and dread for what was to come.

“Rise!” King Frederick growled. “Why, you still have the nerve to greet me so politely after humiliating my daughter in the presence of the entire kingdom?” he snapped.

“My apologies, Your – “

“Enough with the pleasantries, boy,” cut the king impatiently as he glared at the young man before him. “And don’t look at me like that either,” he narrowed his eyes at Sergei’s cold and detached icy blue eyes which stared at him with an unnerving calmness.

Lowering his eyes in defeat, Sergei let out a small sigh which did not go unnoticed by the furious king.

“She may be your fiancee now, but she’s my daughter, and until she’s your wife, you’d do well to keep those wanton intentions of yours to yourself. Understand?” the king’s quiet, yet venomous voice sent a shiver down Sergei’s spine and he had to admit that he had underestimated the King of Ansodria. He was not the weak pushover he had thought. In fact, his kind appearance had fooled him into a sense of false security. Oh, what a folly!