‘We must move quickly, to secure your throne,’ Agathe continued and Mateo stared at her, his blue-green eyes narrowed to aquamarine slits, his chiselled jaw bunched with tension.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Leo’s abdication was so sudden, so unexpected. It has led to some...instability.’
‘You mean from the insurgents?’ A tribe of nomadic rabble, as far as he could tell, who hated any innovation or threat of modernity.
Agathe nodded, her forehead creased in worry. ‘They are growing in power, Mateo, as well as number. Without anyone visible on the throne, who knows what they may do?’
Mateo’s gut clenched at the thought of a war. It was so far from his experience, his life, that it was almost laughable. Tonight he was meant to be speaking at a fundraising dinner, followed by drinks with some university colleagues. Now those plans seemed ephemeral, ridiculous. He had a country to rule. A war to avoid, and if not, then win.
‘I will do my best to put a stop to them,’ he said, his tone assured and lethal. He might never have been meant to be King, but heaven knew he would step up to the role now. He would do whatever he had to secure his family, his country, his kingdom.
‘I know you will,’ Agathe assured him. ‘But there is more, Mateo.’ His mother looked hesitant, and Mateo frowned. What more could there be than what she had already said—his brother abdicating, his country on the verge of ruin, and the necessity for him to leave his entire life behind? How on earth could there be more?
‘What do you mean?’ he demanded. ‘Mitera, what are you talking about?’
‘Your rule must be made stable as quickly as possible,’ Agathe explained. ‘With your father and brothers...so much uncertainty...there must be no doubt, Mateo, that our line will rule. That our house will remain established, through all the foibles and fortunes of war.’
‘I am travelling to Kallyria tonight,’ Mateo answered, with an edge to his voice that he tried to moderate. His mother looked so worn down, so worried. He didn’t want to hurt her or cause her any more concern. ‘What else can I do?’
‘You must marry,’ Agathe told him bluntly. ‘As quickly as possible, with an heir as soon as possible after that. I have drawn up a list of suitable brides...’
Mateo jerked upright, his mouth dropping open before he snapped it shut, his teeth grinding together. ‘Marry? But Leo never married.’ Six years his brother had been King, and he’d never even entertained the thought of a bride, as far as Mateo knew. There had certainly been no whispers of a potential match, never mind an engagement or a wedding. Leo had had numerous affairs with unsuitable women, many of them splashed across the tabloids, none of the fleeting relationships leading anywhere.
‘It is different now,’ Agathe said with bleak, regal honesty. ‘There is no one else left.’
A bride.
He resisted the notion instinctively, with an elemental aversion both to marriage itself, and to marriage to a woman he didn’t know or care about, a woman who would no doubt be so very suitable.
‘And what women are on this list of brides?’ he asked, a sardonic note entering his voice. ‘As a matter of curiosity.’
‘Admittedly, not very many. Your bride will play an important role, Mateo. She must be intelligent, not easily cowed, of the right birth and breeding...’
‘So no vacuous socialites need apply?’ Thank God. He could not stand the thought of being married to some grasping, faint-hearted miss who only wanted his money or title. Yet what kind of woman would agree to marry a man she’d never met? Not, Mateo suspected, one he wanted to share his life with.
‘No, of course not.’ Agathe gave him a severe look that reminded him of his childhood, of the days when he’d been unrepentantly unruly, testing all the boundaries to make sure they were there. ‘You need a bride to suit your station, Mateo. A woman who will one day become Queen.’ As she was. Yet no woman could match his mother for strength, elegance, or grace.
Mateo looked away. He couldn’t bear to think about any of it. ‘So who is on the list?’ he asked after a moment.
‘Vanessa de Cruz...a Spanish socialite who has started her own business. Women’s wear.’
He made a scoffing sound. ‘Why would she want to give all that up and become Queen?’
‘You’re a catch, Mateo,’ Agathe said, a hint of a smile in her voice, despite all her sadness.
‘She doesn’t even know me,’ he dismissed. He did not want to marry a woman who would only marry him for his title, her station in life. ‘Who else?’
‘A French heiress...a Turkish daughter of a CEO...in today’s modern world, you need a woman who is her own person by your side. Not a princess simply waiting for the limelight.’ His mother reeled off a few more names Mateo had barely heard of. Strangers, women he had no interest in knowing, much
less marrying. He’d never intended to marry at all, and he certainly didn’t want to love the woman whom he did, but neither did he want such a soulless arrangement as this.
‘Think about it,’ Agathe pressed gently. ‘We can discuss it more when you arrive tonight.’
Mateo nodded his terse agreement, and a few minutes later he ended the video call. Outside the bells had stopped ringing. Mateo looked around his cluttered study, the research paper he’d been writing discarded on his desk, and accepted that his entire life had changed for ever.
* * *