Chapter 3 You'll Have A Wonderful Time Together

• COLE
• “Your Majesty.”
• A firm series of knock shattered the perfect sleep I’d managed to find for the first time in weeks. I rolled onto my side, reaching for the other half of the bed. I expected the brush of soft fingers that would tug the coverlet over my ears and shield me from reality’s persistence.
• But my hand met only cold linen.
• She was gone.
• “Your Majesty, I have something to report,” came Flynn’s voice again—steady, unyielding, always so damned punctual.
• A groan rumbled from my chest as I sat up, dragging a hand over my face. My ever-dutiful Beta—and closet friend—clearly lacked the basic skill of reading a room. Or in this case, a morning after.
• I threw on a shirt and stalked toward the door. When I yanked it open, Flynn stood tall and statuesque in the corridor, not a hair out of place.
• “Do you not require sleep, Flynn Hart?” I drawled, stifling a yawn. “Or should I remind you that we returned from a month-long trek through hell only yesterday—and were then subjected to an excruciating banquet as the final insult?”
• Flynn dipped his head with infuriating neutrality. “I slept well last night, Your Majesty.”
• With a grunt, I turned toward the washroom, flicked on the faucet, and splashed my face. Cold water licked across my fingers, down my neck. In the mirror, my gaze caught on the scratches across my collarbone —angry red trails carved by Evelyn Caddel’s nails when I’d bitten her shoulder and refused to let go, even when she cried out.
• “I’ve received a new finding regarding the attack and Lord Crawford’s disappearance,” Flynn said behind me.
• I turned with a frown as Flynn stepped forward and offered a small object in his palm.
• A crest—worn, but unmistakable. A griffin with wings unfurled, talons clutching a blooming rose.
• It was Jack’s old sigil.
• “You think his remnants were behind the ambush?”
• Flynn inclined his head. “Possibly. But all the attackers are dead. We’ve no solid proof yet.”
• I closed my fingers around the crest, letting the metal bite into my skin. “Keep the investigation active. Tell Addison to send spies into the noble Houses. Discreetly. I want to know if any of them are involved.”
• Flynn’s brow furrowed slightly; he seemed taken aback by my command, but he said nothing. “Yes, Alpha.” He stamped a fist over his chest.
• The sigil burned against my palm.
• Jack had been dead a year, but his legacy still festered like rot beneath the skin of this kingdom. Riots, whispers, empty gestures of rebellion—but this… this was no act of grief. This was methodical. Surgical. A coordinated strike: the ambush on Crawford land, the ransacking of the House, the abduction of Lord Frank.
• Whoever orchestrated it was a master.
• I was buttoning my shirt when Mr. Barrett, the head servant, appeared in the doorway, breathless.
• “Your Majesty, the Dowager Queen requests your presence for breakfast.”
• I exchanged a look with Flynn as I reached for the doublet slung across the foot of my bed. “What royal delicacy has she arranged for me this time?”
• “Her Grace said it’s time for a warm family dining with her dear son in private.”
• I quivered a brow, and the head servant added delicately. “The Dowager Queen has also invited Lady Fox.”
• Oh, of course she had.
• Last night, during the welcoming banquet, my stepmother – my father’s third wife – Anastasia, now the Dowager Queen – had blindsided me with her grand announcement of the Luna Selection, in front of ministers, courtiers – everyone.
• She’d framed it so perfectly that to deny her would’ve made me look like the most irresponsible king in Hescor’s history. But clearly, the wellbeing of the country was secondary to her need to secure her status in the palace.
• Born a Fox by blood, Anastasia had clawed her way into royalty by marrying my father after the woman who gave birth to me vanished like smoke. Anastasia had borne no child for the King, so she staked her future on Jack and me.
• To her, we were never sons. We were pawns.
• It almost made me laugh that how she phrased it: “warm family dining”. In truth, I had never been allowed to dine with my so-called family as a prince unless my presences served the state or spectacle. My father hated the sight of me, and Anastasia had always ignored my existence.
• I could safely say that the fact I won the war against Jack had stunned her. Before I seized the throne, she had considered me unworthy of even her schemes. She had pinned all her hopes on Jack. So had the court. So had the Kingdom.
• ***
• The dining chamber gleamed with morning gold, nestled in the heart of Anastasia’s wing. She sat at the head of the long table, poised beside a young woman whose laughter rang with practiced sweetness.
• “What’s so amusing?” I asked as I stepped into the room.
• The girl stood at once, curtsying gracefully.
• Anastasia greeted me with the smile of a doting matron, arms half-extended. I bent perfunctorily, brushing a kiss to the air beside her cheek.
• “My son,” she crooned. “Allow me to introduce Lady Skyla Fox.”
• “Good morning, Your Majesty,” Skyla said, her voice as polished as her posture.
• I gave her a brief nod and claimed the only empty chair—one that, unsurprisingly, sat far too close to hers. Anastasia’s intentions were written in the air like perfume.
• “We are just recalling the old days. Do you remember? My brother brought Skyla to visit once when you were young,” Anastasia said as servants began placing dishes. “You said she was so pretty, you wanted to marry her when you grew up.”
• “Is that so?” I raised a brow at Skyla. She flushed and lowered her gaze.
• Anastasia waved a hand, laughing lightly. “Oh, darling, you must have forgotten. Time flies, and you’ve forgot so much about your childhood since you grew up. You even said you want to kiss her in front of everyone.”
• My fingers tapped at the base of the glass as I watched her cat-like smile.
• My stepmother was masterful at invention, especially when it came to memories that served her intention. She had once proposed erecting a golden statue of herself in the rose garden—a garden originally built for the woman my father despised even remembering in his final days. She had never stepped foot there, save for the day the sculptors arrived. Yet somehow, she’d convinced the court that the garden had always been her gift.
• But I would have to play along with her game. I would have to feign falling into her scheme before I struck back—otherwise, I’d be stepping right into the trap she’d laid.
• That’s how the court of Hescor worked.
• “You are right,” I said with a smile, lifting my glass. “I tend to forget things. A typical problem for a busy man. Allow me to apologize to Lady Skyla for that.”
• “That’s why you’ll need a proper queen.” Anastasia said brightly. “One who can ease your burdens. Help you rule the kingdom.” She glanced at her niece fondly before turning back to me.
• “And you and Skyla will have time to get reacquainted. Why don’t you show her the gardens after breakfast, before plunging yourself into the day’s arduous work?” she added sweetly.
• “The roses are in bloom, and the weather is simply lovely. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time together.”