Your Majesty, Call Me Aunt

The day Julian Bennett put on the crown, he also tore up our engagement. The late king had lain in state for seven days, and black mourning cloth still hung outside St. Andrew's Cathedral. The moment the coronation bells fell silent, Julian took the hand of Cecilia Ashford, the prime minister's daughter, and led her to the throne beside him. I stood closest to him in a silver-white gown cut in the style reserved for a future queen. Father had hired 12 seamstresses, and Mother had personally pinned our family's sapphire to my dress. Now it looked like a frozen tear. "The engagement was arranged while my father was ill and was never ratified by the Council of Nobles. It cannot bind a king who has already been crowned," Julian said. The cathedral was silent. Three years ago, when rebels drove him out of the capital, Harrington Bank raised money for his army. My brother escorted him through the blockade, and I sold an estate my mother had left me to buy winter provisions for his troops. Back then, he had held my hand and promised that once he reclaimed the crown, I would be his only queen. Now he had broken that promise. A young noblewoman looked over my silver-white gown and hid a laugh behind her hand. "That dress was made for a queen, wasn't it? What a shame the woman wearing it never became one." Someone beside her chimed in, "The Harringtons spent so much money on His Majesty, yet they still couldn't buy their daughter a crown." Cecilia raised a hand to stop them, though a smile remained on her face. "That's enough. Evelyn is already upset enough today." "His betrayal is no disgrace of mine." I looked at the two women. Then I turned to Cecilia. "If you consider winning a faithless man a victory, Your Majesty, I'll let you enjoy it a little longer." Cecilia's smile froze. Furious, she motioned for me to swear allegiance. Father had barely taken a step when my brother stopped him. 200 royal guards were waiting for my family to lose control. I curtsied according to court protocol, but I did not bow my head. "May the king prove worthy of his subjects' loyalty." Julian's expression darkened. Then he assumed the same gentle manner he used to use whenever he wanted to soothe my anger. "Cecilia will appoint you her chief lady-in-waiting. You can live in the Winter Palace and continue to keep me company." Cecilia feigned generosity. "You and His Majesty were together for three years, after all. If you're willing to stay, I won't make things difficult for you." Chief lady-in-waiting was little more than a pretty title. Everyone in the capital knew exactly what Julian intended. He wanted me as his mistress, tucked discreetly behind the queen and brought out whenever it suited him. Even now, he spoke to me in that same gentle, coaxing tone, as if a few tender words could make the insult sound like a favor. What I hated most was that some foolish part of me was still waiting for him to explain himself. I took off the sapphire. "Thank you for your generosity, Your Majesties, but I must decline." Before the coronation banquet was even over, officials from the royal treasury arrived at Harrington Bank with an order to audit our accounts. In a side hall, the Queen Mother stopped my mother as she slowly turned the emerald ring on her finger. "When you were willing to spend your money on the Crown, we called it loyalty. Now that you refuse us, it begins to look like treason." Her smile never wavered. "Of course, the audit could disappear the moment Evelyn comes to her senses." By the time we returned home, Father was furious enough to c***k the carriage armrest beneath his hand. Mother was calmer enough to have seen the trap. "As long as Evelyn remains unmarried, Julian will keep coming after us." Father spent the entire night calling on noble families across the capital, but no one was willing to risk offending the new king. The only man who offered marriage was a 62-year-old duke who expected my family to pay off his gambling debts in return. My brother drew his sword and announced that he would challenge the man to a duel. Mother promptly had him locked in the wine cellar. Near midnight, I changed into riding clothes and slipped out of the house. A black carriage was waiting beyond the capital's northern gate. The only crest on its door was the silver falcon of House Montclair, its wings spread wide. When I opened the door, Adrian Montclair was reading a military dispatch by lamplight. I hadn't seen him in seven years. Whatever softness youth had once left in his face had been worn away by the winters of the North. His black military coat was buttoned to the throat, and flecks of snow still clung to his epaulets. He closed the dispatch and lifted his gray-blue eyes to mine. "Your Grace, will you please help my family?" "How?" "Marry me." For a moment, the carriage was completely silent. I could hear nothing but the pounding of my own heart. I held out the agreement I'd prepared. "The marriage would last one year. Our property would remain separate, and neither of us would owe the other any marital duties. Once Julian stops going after my family, we can ask the Church to annul it." Adrian didn't even look at the papers. He looked only at me. "Evelyn," he said quietly, "do you understand what you're asking when you propose marriage to me?"