The King rang for a servant to bring him more wine. He ordered a glass to be poured for the Lady as well. “Rowan will wed Lord Killian. There is to be no more discussion about it. Once the marriage has been finalized, Killian will take his bride to Grayholm where they will live until I am no longer able to continue as King in which case Killian will rule as regent in my place, or until my rightful heir is old enough to take his place as King. This is the only way I know to ensure that my throne does not fall into enemy hands.”
“But Sire…”
“My decision has been made!” The King slammed his fist on the table, startling Lady Caroline. “Now, drink your wine and be gone. I’m sure you have weaving or embroidery waiting for you.”
“Yes, my King.” Lady Caroline drank her wine as instructed then the King gave her leave. Once she had left the King’s solar, Lady Caroline walked the somber halls of the palace, lost in thought. Soon, she found herself in the corridor leading to Emilia’s rooms. She had to break the troubling news to her daughter but that wasn’t the only reason for her visit. There were plans to be made. Emilia would be marrying Lord Killian. Of that Lady Caroline was certain. They just had to get rid of Rowan first.
Once the Prince was out of the picture, Killian would have no choice but to marry Emilia. The only question was, what to do about Rowan. It had to look like an accident. One that could not in any way lead back to Caroline or Emilia. Perhaps she could make it appear as though the distraught young Prince had committed suicide. That wouldn’t be so hard for the King to believe. Rowan had attempted it once before. When he was younger and first brought to the palace after his mother had died. Whose to say he wouldn’t try it again?
As Lady Caroline neared her daughters apartments a plan began to form and she smiled wickedly at her own scheming. There was no way that she would allow Rowan to one day rule as Queen. That position would be held by Emilia. It was, after all, her plan all along. First she had to deal with the King’s omega son, which she had planned to do once she was crowned Queen. No matter. She’d just have to eliminate him sooner. Once Lady Caroline was Queen and Emilia married to Lord Killian, they could carry out the second part of her plan, murdering the King. She just had to bide her time, just a while longer, then everything would slowly fall into place and Basmorte would have a new ruling family.
DECEPTION
Rowan lay, sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the black, silk canopy above him. He couldn’t believe that his life had come to this. It was all a waiting game now. Waiting for his father to have him hauled off to the dungeons in silver shackles. Maybe he would be merciful and allow him a swift death. It would be better than a lifetime of imprisonment. Of course, if Lady Caroline had her way, Rowan would be slowly tortured until she’d finally had enough of his screams and finally ended his life.
She was probably on her way to his father now, no doubt about to beg the King to have Rowan slaughtered. Perhaps she would request his head on a silver platter as her wedding gift. Rowan had no idea what he was going to do but lying around waiting for death didn’t seem like an option he much cared for.
“Oh for the love of Sheul.” Folen stood beside Rowan’s bed and glared down at him, hands on her hips. “Ya can’t wallow in yer bed all night long feeling sorry fer yerself.”
“I didn’t think you prayed to Sheul.” Rowan said, somberly.
“Aye, he’s yer God, not mine. But thought you’d relate better.”
“I haven’t prayed to him since mother died.” Rowan admitted. “Don’t see any use in it. When has he ever been there for me?”
“Maybe yer praying to the wrong God then.” Folen picked up the discarded clothing on the floor and moved them to the basket in the corner. “Now, get up out of that bed and get dressed in the clothes I laid out for ya.”
Rowan rolled his eyes. “Why.”
“Because it wouldn’t be fit for ya to go to yer dinner date naked.”
Rowan sat up, narrowing his eyes. “What dinner date?”
“Lord Killian has asked yer father for permission to take you to dinner and he’s agreed. He’ll be here in an hour to escort you.”
“No.” Rowan folded his arms over his chest and glared at the woman. “Absolutely not. And why should Lord Killian want to escort me to dinner? He’s marrying Emilia isn’t he?”
“Not from what I hear.” Folen told him. “Last I heard he had his sights set on you.”
Rowan groaned. “He may have his sights set on me but his mind is in the gutter and I’ll not fall victim to his lust.”
“And that’s precisely while I’ll be there to chaperone.”
Rowan pulled the covers over his head and sunk down into the mattress. “Why do I have to do this?’
“Because, Lad, your father has ordered it. Now, get dressed and I’ll do yer hair. Lord Killian may be a rake but he’s a noble one n’ I’ll not have you showing up to dinner lookin’ like a raggabrash.”
***
Dinner with Lord Killian wasn’t what Rowan had expected. Maybe it was because of the servants scrambling around to serve them or the two guards that stood by the doors to the small, private, dining room, or, maybe it was Folen’s presence in the room, but Lord Killian remained, for the most part, on his best behavior.
Folen stood behind Rowan throughout the entire meal, directing the other servants as they brought food and drinks to the table. Rowan felt better just knowing she was there.
“So, Lord Killian, I was surprised to get your invitation for dinner tonight.” Rowan said as he sipped his wine.
“Oh?” Lord Killian raised an eyebrow. “Why so?”
“I just thought perhaps after the other night, you had reconsidered your proposal.”
“Not at all, my dear Prince. I may have my brief dalliances but that won’t prevent me from claiming what’s mine. I’m a man of power and I know what’s at stake. I’d never give up real power for a meaningless fuck.”
“So, our union is meant to be a political alliance, and nothing more?”
“Oh, it will be much more than that, I can assure you.” Lord Killian picked up his wine glass and grinned a wide, devilish, grin as he drank.
Rowan felt a chill go up his spine as he watched his betrothed. The look in his eyes told Rowan exactly what his marriage to this man would become.
“What if I refuse your proposal?” Rowan asked, a slight smirk on his face.
“Refuse all you want.” Lord Killian narrowed his eyes, the smile gone from his face. “It won’t do you any good. I always get what I want.”
“Hm.” Rowan propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “What you want is my father’s throne.” Rowan stated calmly.
The smile returned to Killian’s face as he watched Rowan curiously. “You’re a perceptive one, aren’t you?”
Rowan shrugged. “I’m not the idiot that my father thinks I am. And I don’t think I like being used for your political gain. Why not wed Emilia. She would jump at the opportunity I’m sure.”
“Oh, I’m sure she would. She’s not a royal though.”
“She will be, once my father weds Lady Caroline.”
“True, but you are King Desmond’s blood and therefore his rightful heir. Or would be, had you not been born an omega. Unless he produces a son to inherit his throne, a non omega son, whoever you wed will become Prince consort and therefore rule once your father has passed or chooses to retire his crown.”