Burning for Love by Evangeline Anderson

41

“Iam too old for this,” the Steward complained, shifting on the black velvet cushion as though the hard golden throne beneath it hurt his bones. He let out a burst of flatulence which made the page boys giggle until he glared at them.

“I am sorry you feel that way, Your Stewardship,” Rissa said politely. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she waited for the man she thought of as her Uncle to get to the point. “The crown must be a heavy burden to bear and I thank you for bearing it for me all these years,” she added.

“Yes, yes…heavy indeed. And you have not made it any easier, my girl,” he added, frowning down at her. “Trying to find a suitor you are not too picky to accept has nearly plagued the life out of me!” He shook his head. “Well, I am done with making that mistake. I have found you the man you are going to marry.”

“What?” exclaimed Rissa, before she could stop herself. “How can you say that, Uncle?” she demanded, forgetting to be formal. “When I have not even met him yet? A Royal female has the Right of Refusal, you know!”

“Only for the first three suitors proposed to her.” The Steward glared at her. “And you have had your three refusals, my girl. Now, before you go getting upset,” he continued, leaning forward and using a more soothing tone. “I believe this man is perfect for you. He is from the Second Court on the other side of the planet but he has the blood of the Very First Family running through his veins. Also, he is no more than five years your senior, I believe, which ought to make you happy. And, I am told by the maids who attend me in my rooms that he is exceedingly handsome. So, there. If that does not make you happy, I do not know what will!” He leaned back on the throne, a self-satisfied look coming over his jowly face.

Rissa shot a swift glance at James, who was standing beside and a little behind her. She knew very well that the only thing that would make her happy was the big Kindred who had been sent to guard her. But it seemed their chance at happiness together was slipping away.

“Uncle,” she said tentatively. “I, er, thank you kindly for taking so much trouble to find me a new suitor, but why must a Royal female marry a man with Royal blood at all?”

“What? Whatever do you mean?” the Steward blustered, frowning. “Of course you must marry a man with Royal blood in his veins!”

“I know it is not because only a man with Royal blood may slake my Heat,” Rissa said boldly, which caused a gasp from Lady Mildew, who was standing on her other side. “Well?” she demanded. “Why should I not say it? It is true, you know. One of my ancestors, Queen Lenore the Headstrong, married her gardener and made him her Royal Consort. So why must I have a husband with Royal blood in his veins?”

“Because I say you must!” the Steward blustered. He squinted balefully at Rissa. “And I’ll hear no more about the idea of you marrying a mere commoner! I have not held this throne for your Royal father all these years only to see his only child marry beneath her! Now, you shall meet your new suitor—soon to be your husband—tonight at the ball we are holding in his honor. And tomorrow, you shall marry him.”

“Does the Princess have no say in her own fate at all, then?” James asked, speaking up at last. “She is going to be the Queen of your entire planet, why may she not choose her own mate?”

The Steward squinted at James menacingly.

“Because she is a young, flighty female with no sense in her head,” he barked. “Her Royal father left me in charge and I will be damned, Sir, if I allow her to make a less than advantageous match!”

“You haven’t appeared very interested in making her a good match before now,” James pointed out, his eyes flashing. “You tried to marry her off to a young boy, an old man, and a scoundrel with no honor! Since your own judgment has been so obviously lacking in this matter, perhaps you had better let the Princess decide who she wants to Join with herself.”

The Steward grew red in the face.

“How dare you, Sir!” he demanded. “Are you questioning my judgment?”

“I think I’ve made it clear that I am,” James said coolly.

For a moment, the Steward looked ready to explode.

“You, Sir, are dismissed,” he told James. “You can go back to Commander Sylvan and tell him I said we have no need of your services anymore.”

“I am not leaving,” James growled. “I was sent here to protect the Princess and that is what I plan to do! There is still an assassin out there looking for her. What about the attempt on her life that prompted you to call for a guard like me in the first place?”

“As it happens, that threat has been neutralized.” The Steward waved his hand airily. “The man who planned the earlier attack turned out to be a malcontent—a commoner with the ridiculous idea of getting rid of the Monarchy. He was caught and hanged earlier this week.”

“He was?” Rissa shook her head. “But…why was I not told?”

“Because you did not need to know,” Lady Mildew snapped, frowning at her. “You do not need to know anything, girl, except to do as you are told!”

“For once, I agree with Lady Mildew,” the Steward snapped. “You shall meet your new suitor tonight at the ball. And tomorrow, you will marry him. Oh, and his name is Lord Shammington,” he added. “Now go—it is time for my nap and this ridiculous business tires me.”

“I am not leaving,” James said again, as the page boys helped the Steward up from the throne. “I was told to make certain the Princess is safe until she gets married and that is what I intend to do.”

“Very well,” the Steward grunted, frowning at him. “You can stay, Sir Robot, despite your deplorable manners, but only until the wedding. After that, you must be off the planet at once or I shall call Commander Sylvan and demand that he remove you himself! Am I understood?”

“You are, Sir.” James nodded coldly.

Rissa’s heart sank. Was this really the end? James had admitted that he loved her—could he truly give her up so easily? But then again, what could he do—what could either of them do? It was true that he had only come to guard her and since the Steward was in charge, it was clear she wouldn’t be allowed to marry outside her class—let alone outside her race and species.

I don’t want to be the Queen if it means not getting to marry James! she thought, feeling sick. But she was stuck—it wasn’t like she could stop being a Royal Princess who was the sole heir to the Throne of Regalia Five just by wishing it.

“Come, girl.” Lady Mildew took her by the arm, interrupting her thoughts. “Back to your rooms. We must find something for you to wear tonight when you meet your future husband.”

Rissa cast a last, longing look at the big Kindred. James looked back and for a moment, she thought she saw desperate unhappiness in his metallic blue eyes.

“James…” she whispered, but he only shook his head, his face going stoic and cold again. Clearly, his hands were tied and there was nothing either of them could do about the situation.

Eyes, stinging with tears, Rissa allowed herself to be led away by Lady Mildew.

What else could she do?