Exile (Book #2 Royale Series)

Chapter 7: As You Sow, So Shall You Reap

Taylor

"Absolutely not!" Aspen declares for what must be the millionth time as his advisors sigh in exhaustion.

"Your Majesty, we implore you—" an advisor begins, but he is quickly cut off by Aspen.

"My decision is final. I will hear nothing else about it," he says, his tone bleeding with finality.

"Your Majesty, I don't like this any more than you do, but perhaps you should weigh your options before making a final decision," Ashley states. "You can either invite King Damien to the Heritage Day Ball, cater to his monstrous ego and treat him to a good time—a gesture of goodwill on your part and if it is successful, secures Damien as an ally," Ashley says to Aspen, her tone advisory and taking absolutely no prisoners. Even from the distance from which we stand, her defiance roils off her. I almost admire it. "Or," she continues, "we can allow him to be manipulated by Ceanna Kingston, lose him as an ally, and have him join forces with the Isolian rebels. Which, I'd like to remind you, as being leader of the most powerful country in the world, if King Damien joins the rebels, then we can kiss victory goodbye."

Aspen is tense. He paces around the advisory table. The Council members watch from their balcony, having been silent the entire meeting. The Council can do much, but they cannot force Aspen to kiss another king's ass. This decision is Aspen's and his alone. And unfortunately for him, it is one that the fate of the entire country hinges on.

I myself have also been silent during the meeting. Considering my previous involvements with King Damien, I have as much reason to hate him as Aspen does. Maybe even more. And it burns me that our victory in this war is dependent on him. After all, Damien was one of Albion's biggest allies, but now that we have merged with Isola, he has every reason to alter his allegiances. But despite how much I loathe Aspen, it will bring me no joy to see him beg for Damien's support. Not the same way I use to beg him for affection.

~*~

Two years ago

"Are you leaving already?" I ask the golden-haired king departing from my bed. He reaches for his strewn clothes across the floor.

I wipe the sweat from my brow. Exhaustion prickles at me, but I push it away. I will not let the powerful king before me know that his passions have worn me. I want him to see me as strong—desirable. I inch closer, letting the duvet fall from my otherwise bare chest. I press myself against his back, kissing his neck.

"Luckily for you, Duchess, you have all the perks of being royal without any of the responsibility. I, however, do actually have a country to run," he says coldly, as if I had not just had him screaming only minutes before. He shrugs me off him.

I pull the duvet closer around my body now, not in an effort to hide my body, but rather my embarrassment at having been rejected. I sit up in the bed as he stands. My tone turns from helpless to defensive.

"I could become queen, you know. I am second in line." I cross my arms petulantly.

He chuckles at my words. My cheeks heat. He places a finger under my chin, lifting my face to his. "Sweetheart, no offense, but even of a country as tiny as Albion, you will never become queen. You're far too...unaware—for lack of a better term—to handle the pressures of event planning, looming war, and foreign alliances. Why don't you just stick with what you know, yes?"

He releases my face and tugs on his shirt. Tears brim in my eyes, but I turn my face away until I can push them back.

Do not be weak, Taylor. He may be a powerful king, but he is no fortune-teller. You will become queen. You will make your mother proud.