My hissed curse makes Jeo, the handsome male currently stretched out on my chaise, look over at me. “What’s wrong?”
I glance up from the letter and sigh, tossing it on my desk. “Franca Tullidge can’t meet with me because she isn’t currently in Highbell. She’s gone traveling for six months,” I say with irritation.
“And this is bad?” Jeo asks.
I rub my temples before leaning back in my chair to give him my full attention. “Yes, it’s bad. The Tullidge family has a private guard of seven hundred men. Men I might need, so it’s important I get her loyalty settled.”
Jeo springs to his feet, and I get momentarily distracted. Currently shirtless, the freckles on his skin are like flakes of cinnamon sprinkled over him, spice added to the muscled, decadent body they adorn.
He picks up the crystal pitcher on the table and fills two glasses of honeyed wine. I take a moment to enjoy his physique as he comes over with cups in hand, his walk like a panther, strong and graceful. The thick red hair on his head reminds me of the color of a fresh kill.
He places one glass in my hand before leaning against the edge of my desk. With his knee pressed against my thigh, I can feel the heat of his body even through the multiple layers of my skirt and his trousers.
“If it comes to that, if you need the noble houses to band with you, they’ll do it,” he says confidently, tipping the wine into his mouth as he swallows half the contents in one gulp.
I take a sip, amused. “Is that so?”
He nods. “It is so, my queen.”
“You sound awfully confident.”
Jeo downs the rest of it. “I am,” he replies with a shrug, setting the glass down. “You are a Colier. Orea might be dazzled by Midas’s gold, but it’s your bloodline, your name that Sixth Kingdom trusts. If you put out the call to arms, they’ll answer.”
I tap my fingertip against the glass. “We’ll see.”
I hope it doesn’t come to that, hope that I can get the pieces in place to force Midas’s hand, but I have to plan for every contingency. Tyndall, while lacking as a husband, excelled as a ruler. Not because he was trained for it as I was, but like Jeo said, he knows how to dazzle.
That man knows how to leave an impression, how to spin a narrative, how to gain the people’s awed fascination. He’s made a lot of nobles rich—nobles that I’ll never win over.
But, he’s also made a lot of enemies. He’s left a lot of people to complain at their lack. When King Midas turned Highbell Castle gold, he failed to realize exactly what kind of shadow it cast.
The commoners, the peasants, the laborers—those are the ones he neglected, the ones he deemed beneath him.
Once I’m finished going through the list of nobles I think I can sway, I’ll go for those forgotten masses next. The ones who were left to wallow in envy, left to stare after the castle in its immeasurable wealth.
Yes, a lot of people hate the king. His wife just happens to be one of them.
A slow smirk crosses my wine-whetted lips. I’m going to utterly destroy his narrative, wreck his public platform, crush his shiny façade.
By the time I’m through with him, I will make the Golden King a thing to despise. I will be the queen, beloved.
Jeo’s face morphs with a knowing grin. “I know that look,” he murmurs, pointing at me. “You’re plotting.”
A small laugh escapes me. “Of course I am.”
Plotting is what I’m best at. A good thing too, since I lack both of the traits that this world respects: power and a penis.
A shame that I lack the first, but the second? I’ve found that most of the people who have those are altogether disappointing.
My gaze shifts to Jeo’s crotch. Well, except for the ones you can buy.
When a knock on the door sounds, I let out a little sigh. I shouldn’t be surprised at the interruption. It’s hard to go even a few hours without someone needing something. Although, it’s a problem I embrace, because finally, I’m the one they come to. It’s my order they wait for. As it should be.
“Come in.”
My advisor, Wilcox, strides inside, his blue eyes skating straight to Jeo. His thin lips press together tightly, the only outward sign of dislike that he’ll show in front of me. Though I know on the inside, he’s ranting, just like he did when I first came down to dinner with Jeo on my arm.
Wilcox believes it’s unsavory for me to keep a saddle of my own so publicly, an opinion he let known at the dinner table.