Rolling over onto her back, she stared at the bright ceiling, no longer able to hold back the wave of emotion.
She was the Queen of Cyrano and her greatest dream was a warm pile of smoking ash.
For the first time since her father died, Mina cried herself to sleep.
CHAPTER TWO
SOMEMENWEREdriven by passion, acting on their instincts without thought or strategy. Much to his late father’s chagrin, Zayn Darius d’Argonia, the youngest ever King of Cyrano, was not that kind of man.
It was the old man’s own fault, though. After all, he had been the one to raise a young prince with an ironclad sense of self-reliance and an unwavering commitment to forging his own path. Early on in his life, he had decided that his was the path of careful study and planning.
To give his father credit, he had, on most issues, steadfastly supported Zayn in whatever approach he chose, saying,“Each man is his own. It does the world no good to try to walk the path of another.”
His father had believed this self-reliance was a vital characteristic for a king. Of course, neither of them had imagined that Zayn would become King so soon. Nor that, in that transition, his inner compass would be the only thing that saved the country from near governmental collapse, economic depression, and an attempted coup in the immediate and ugly aftermath of the King’s assassination and the ascendance of a young, inexperienced monarch to the throne.
But any self-flagellation for lack of foresight on the matter was a pointless waste of time—a luxury a working king could not afford.
Some believed that Parliament ran things. They were mistaken.
Cyrano’s monarchy had given its people a powerful voice through their elected officials, and more power still through the Parliament-selected advisory council, but the royal family had retained control and rule of the country—through centuries and countless plots against them.
Zayn would not be the one to jeopardize that—not through poor planning, not through acting rashly, and not through marriage.
And that was just one of the many reasons the shock of his betrothal still stung.
Filling the position of Queen was to have been one of his most potent bargaining chips—a lucrative lure to play to Cyrano’s strategic advantage.
The woman who would be Queen had to be cut from a particular cloth—intelligent, quick-thinking, compassionate, determined, unflappable, steel-coated, perfectly presented, and always poised. And she needed to bring something of real value to the Crown—money, trade, connections...something tangible.
She could not be common. She could not be unfashionable. She couldn’t let her feelings show in her beautiful green-gold eyes every time someone was frank with her.
His greatest bargaining chip was now a virtual throwaway, offering nothing advantageous to the nation and burdening him with a softhearted academic unprepared for the sharp edges of public life in the process. That his father had been the one to hamstring him like this made it all the worse.
It didn’t make any sense. Up to the very end, his father had done everything he could to support him.
Zayn had already considered the obvious—that Mina’s family had somehow blackmailed the late King—but it didn’t pan out.
While his father had been no angel, Zayn was sure there were no skeletons in his closet so monstrous that he would sacrifice his son. Nothing had mattered more to King Alden than his family. It didn’t add up—especially given the old King’s feelings on marriage.
While he was alive, marriage had been the one point of disagreement between them.
Never one to keep his opinions to himself, Alden had tried his damnedest to turn his son around to his thinking.
“Your Queen will be your greatest helpmeet and partner. She will be the difference between a legacy of success or failure. Finding her, falling in love—and soon—that is your most important duty.”
Fresh from his second year at university, and riding high on the thrill of finding his passion in the philosophy and study of governance, Zayn had merely rolled his eyes at his father’s hyperbole.
His father had persisted. “I’m serious, son. I don’t want to hear any more of this ‘strategic alliance once you take the throne’ nonsense. I want you to fall in love, and fast.”
“Regardless of this mystery woman’s status or fitness to rule?”Zayn had replied, not bothering to rein in the sarcasm in his voice.
King Alden’s eyes had briefly darted away that day, and Zayn had counted the point as his victory, but now he knew better. His father hadn’t met his eyes that day because he had been playing the hypocrite.
And therein lay the rub.
Why go to the trouble to wax on about love and marriage when he’d already given his son away?
Perhaps his father had been more strategic than Zayn had given him credit. Maybe he’d owed someone a favor for his good fortune, and Zayn had been the repayment. That kind ofquid pro quowas the norm amongst the ruling set. The logic was clean.