Dalatteya’s smile widened. “Perhaps I should have informed you personally. After all, as the head of the Fifth Royal House, you will be the one giving Samir away on his wedding day.”
Warrehn had never been so tempted to hit a woman.
“Wedding day,” he repeated.
Dalatteya nodded genially. “Obviously, since Samir won’t have a childhood bond with his intended, the wedding rites will be more simplified than the traditional ones. I still fully plan to make it a grand affair.” She looked Warrehn in the eyes. “My son deserves only the very best.”
Warrehn gave her a flat look. “I don’t know what this new scheme of yours is supposed to accomplish, but I have no intention of playing along.”
“It might be hard to believe for such a self-centered man, but not everything is about you, Your Majesty,” Dalatteya said coldly, the pretense of geniality gone. “There is no ‘scheme.’ My son is getting married soon. That has nothing to do with you.” Her gaze turned positively icy. “Stay away from my son and don’t ruin his future. Your behavior yesterday created enough rumors as it is—it would have been harmful if I weren’t there to handle the issue. Keep your distance from Samir or else.”
Warrehn clasped his balled fists behind his back. “I advise you not to threaten me, ma’am. You are forgetting yourself. I’m your king and you depend on my generosity. Samir is my subject and a member of the royal family. You cannot tell me to stay away from him. If I choose to stay away from him, it’ll be my decision, not yours.”
Dalatteya eyed him carefully, cocking her head to the side. She really looked a lot like Samir, just softer in her appearance, but that softness was very deceptive. Samir’s eyes were kinder, lovelier. Dalatteya’s were sharp as razors.
“You do want him,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s a pity I didn’t believe Samir when he suggested seducing you to make you abdicate. The plan seemed outlandish when Samir suggested it, but now I see that I should have given him more time before exposing him yesterday.”
Warrehn’s stomach clenched, and it was a struggle to keep his face impassive. “I don’t believe a word you say,” he said flatly. “Get out of my sight.”
Smiling, Dalatteya turned away and glided out of the room.
When she was gone, Warrehn slammed his fist against the nearest vase.
It broke, shattering into hundreds of pieces.
***
He didn’t want to believe Dalatteya.
He told himself that she was lying, just trying to rile him up after he pointed out that she couldn’t keep him away from Samir if he wanted otherwise.
But no matter what he told himself, that woman’s words kept poisoning his thoughts, making him doubt himself, and doubt his perceptions. Doubt Samir’s sincerity.
Although he had told Samir that he couldn’t trust him, the aggravating truth was, Warrehn did. He knew he shouldn’t trust him, but he had still been convinced that Samir wasn’t like Dalatteya. But what if he was just seeing what he wanted to see? It was hard to believe that the person who felt so good to hold in his arms, with his lovely, warm smiles couldn’t be what he seemed, that he could be plotting against him behind his back—but Emyr probably had thought the same about Dalatteya.
Had he been just deluding himself thinking that he was smarter than his father? Maybe he was repeating his father’s mistakes. The thought was gut-wrenching.
To make things worse, doubting Samir’s sincerity didn’t stop him from being extremely aggravated by the gifts Samir kept receiving.
Warrehn had never agreed with the notion that power necessarily corrupted. At least he’d never thought he’d be one of those men who used their power to control other people’s lives. But now he had to actively quash the urge to order the servants to throw out every single one of those gifts—and then lock Samir up in his room, and throw out the key.
If I can’t have him, no one can.
His own thoughts creeped him out, but he couldn’t seem to stop thinking shit like that. He’d never experienced this particular mix of emotions: anger, confusion, betrayal, and toxic possessiveness that didn’t let him think clearly.
Even if Samir was a lying, traitorous thing, he was Warrehn’s, no one else’s. It was the single truth his mind didn’t find some way to tangle, regardless of the feelings of anger and betrayal.
Warrehn heaved a sigh and sagged back in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Aftereffect of the drug or not, this toxic possessiveness was unacceptable. He was the king. He shouldn’t have been wasting his time keeping tabs on what Samir was doing or how many gifts he was receiving instead of handling the hundred other, infinitely more important matters that required his attention.
Samir was the son of the woman who had murdered his family, and he had possibly been lying to him and conspiring to remove him from the throne. That should have been the end of it. Should have been.