Mina quietly gasped, her mouth dropping open at the same time as her eyebrows drew together.
Years of effort and sacrifice flashed before her eyes—all of it gladly given for the opportunity to advise the arrogant man who now stood before her.
Her father’s words echoed again in her mind:“Cyrano is counting on you.”
If this was the King, there was little she could do for Cyrano.
It had been naive of her to imagine a paragon for a monarch. She should have known better. Vast wealth and privilege weren’t known for instilling integrity and character into individuals, but for some reason she had always imagined the King would be the kind of man who listened.
She had been mistaken. But she’d encountered enough bullies throughout her career to know when it was time to stand up for yourself.
“Well,” she said, “if you brought me all this way to fire me, consider your goal achieved. If you don’t mind, I’ll take my leave now—Your Royal Majesty.” She was proud of the amount of scholarly disdain she infused into the words.
The King remained unfazed. “In fact—unfortunately—I did not. If it were that simple I would have sent a note. You are here because we have been searching for you for some weeks, to no avail. Only to have you stroll into the castle of your own accord.”
“That’s absurd. My interview was scheduled six months ago, and I am by no means in hiding.”
A part of her took note of the fact that she was arguing with the King, and in front of an audience no less, but that part wasn’t strong enough to pull in the reins.
The King’s nostrils flared. “The error has been corrected. We may move on.”
“Move on with what?” Mina asked, unsure if she even wanted to know the answer.
“Our wedding.”
He broke their visual connection for the first time since he’d established it to look at his watch, and Mina felt the absence as a physical experience—though his words overwhelmed even that novel experience.
“Our wedding...?” she croaked.
The King tsked. “Reports of your intelligence seem to have been greatly exaggerated. Look around you. This chapel is certainly not where I meet with advisory council members.”
Mina’s mouth dropped open once again, and he observed her with a mild grimace.
“The papier-mâché box of a suit is bad enough. The fish look doesn’t improve it.”
Mina’s mouth snapped shut, and her eyes narrowed.
“Are you nearsighted, as well? We can have that fixed...though the recovery will be long. That might be for the best, though. Give you more time to acclimate. Glasses make you look older than your age, you know.”
He said all this matter-of-factly, more akin to a man examining livestock he’d just purchased than a king speaking to his...to his what?
Confusion crinkled Mina’s forehead even as her eyes stung at his words. And, yes, shedidknow—though she wasn’t vain or naive enough to blame it on the glasses.
At thirty-six, she wasn’t young.
She had skipped being young to secure her disastrous interview before Parliament.
Closing her eyes on a sigh, Mina brought her fingers up to rub her temples. None of this made any sense.
“I think there has been some mistake,” she said. “My name is Dr. Mina Aldaba. Six months ago, after applying for review, I was invited to interview for a position on your council—”
Taking a step down from the dais, one step closer to her, the King cut her off with a raised hand. “We know who you are. Dr. Amina Aldaba, only daughter of Ajit and Elke Aldaba. And, while there certainly has been a mistake, it is not ours.”
His eyes chilled momentarily, and Mina realized she preferred his fire to his ice.
As if he could read her thoughts, he once again captured her gaze, his eyes warming.
She couldn’t look away.