The Rejected Mate And The Royal Lie

Chapter4

Chapter 4

Stefan:

“She’s a threat,” Ava said, arms crossed as she paced across my study, red heels clicking against polished marble. “You should’ve seen her. Calm. Controlled. She wasn’t scared of me, she was measured. Like she’s already three moves ahead. What if she was sent by him? What if she was nothing more than a traitor that is going to give him information about you that has been sent to spy on you? You do realize that this is an option? You do understand that this can end up being fatal for us? If it is, then she's just going to ruin everything that we've been fighting hard to build and you're refusing to see that.”

I leaned back in the leather chair, fingers steepled under my chin, watching her. This was not an option that I wanted to think about. If anything, I believed that she would not be a threat. She was an outsider and I was not even supposed to marry her, but her sister.

“She's not here to fight,” I said. “She’s here because she had no choice. She was not the woman that is supposed to be the substitute. The substitute chose to step back. She does not want me as a husband. As far as I am concerned, she does not want to cripple, to be her mate, to be the man that she spends her life with.”

Ava scoffed. “You really believe that? Stefan, she’s not just some broken substitute clinging to pride. She walks like a soldier. She looks like she’s waiting for someone to give her a reason to burn this whole place down. Whether or not you want to admit it, I can see the truth behind it. Maybe that sister lie is just a plot. Maybe they're trying to trick you into something that you are not seeing. Stefan, you're not the type to just give in to something like this. You're not the type to believe such a lie.”

Good. I needed wolves like that.

“She won't be a problem,” I said after a pause. “Sometimes believe in lies, if they are, can be a benefit. At least she knows that she's willing to fight and I do not need a woman hiding behind her lipstick and makeup. I need a warrior.”

“She already is,” Ava snapped. “The guards are talking. Even the staff. She hasn’t even been here a full day and already they’re comparing her to me. You asked me to play the Luna. You gave me that role. But if she stays around, she is already your wife, legally the two of you. Are bound. You rejected her, humiliated her, and she did not step back. She looked you dead in the eye, and she said her vows as if they were something that she practiced.”

“She won’t.” I stood and walked to the bar cart, pouring two fingers of aged scotch. “She’s not part of the plan. She just needs to keep appearances until the next council meeting. After that, she’s free to leave. She's going to stand with me at court and tell my uncle does not want her by my side and you are not going anywhere. He believes the two of us to be lovers regardless of me being married.”

“Free?” Ava repeated, brows arching. “Do you really think a girl like that will walk away quietly? Do you really think that she's just going to appear at court by your side? She is not. She is going to play her role and she's going to expect you to be a husband to her one way or the other. What do you expect would happen? Are you going to give in to her? Are you going to give her what she wants simply to shut her up? What if she keeps following you? What if she asks questions? What if you slip and tell her something that you should not? She is a trained woman. She knows how to react. You can see it in her eyes.”

I didn’t answer right away. Because that was the problem, wasn’t it?

I had expected resistance. Rebellion. But I hadn’t expected… restraint.

Andrea hadn’t broken down. Hadn’t begged. She looked me in the eye like she was already imagining my funeral. And worse, something in me didn’t hate it.

Ava moved to the window, her voice lower now. “You’re slipping, Stefan. You used to be sharp. Now you’re letting her get under your skin. You are allowing her to get in your side, your head, and that's not going to be in your benefit. That is not going to be in any of our benefits.”

“I’m not slipping,” I said tightly. “I’m adjusting. And I am thinking of the good and the outcome of things.”

“To what?” she demanded. “What good? What outcome? What are you talking about?”

“To variables.” I finished the drink in one swallow. “And right now, she’s an unpredictable one. And I'm going to try and understand it. I'm going to try to understand her.”

Before Ava could respond, a knock rapped at the study door.

“Enter,” I barked.

A royal aide stepped inside, bowing low. “Your Highness. The King requests your presence. He says it’s time for your public appearance with your… bride.”

Of course.

My uncle loved nothing more than spectacle.

I set the glass down harder than necessary. “Tell him I’m on my way.”

The aide bowed again and vanished.

Ava sighed. “Smile for the crowd. Pretend you're a happy, crippled prince. And try not to strangle your new wife in front of the nobles. At least if she's going to get inside your head, Martins will not allow her to do so in front of the council.”

“No promises,” I muttered, already walking past her.

******************************

The palace gardens were swarming with wolves dressed in designer silks and tailored suits. Cameras floated via enchanted drones, the press desperate for a glimpse of the fairytale gone wrong.

And there she was.

Andrea.

Dressed in a sleek navy gown that hugged her curves and made her look every bit the royal they didn’t expect her to be. She was standing alone by a fountain, arms folded, eyes scanning the crowd like she already knew she didn’t belong.

And didn’t care.

And to make matters worse, she was proving to everyone that she did not care. I would have expected her to shy back, I would have expected her to be staying in her room. But after I walked out on her, she seemed to be more resilient. And right now she was just standing waiting for me as if she was challenging me.

My uncle was standing a few feet away, surrounded by nobles, sipping from a gold-rimmed glass with that smug expression he wore like a crown.

“Go to her,” he said without looking at me. “Hold her hand. Smile for the press. Let them see that my nephew can manage a wife, even if it’s not the one the goddess chose. Let them speak about the two of you being lovers. Let them believe what you want them to believe, not you rejecting her or humiliating her in front of them. They are going to need to believe and understand that you are the one who is in charge of the actions. And not her, not anyone. Do you understand?”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to.

I knew what was at stake.

I walked toward her slowly. Every camera turned. Every head followed.

She saw me coming and straightened, her chin tilting up slightly. That look in her eyes, so calm, so sure, made something tighten in my chest.

Not attraction.

Not interest.

Recognition.

Because whatever fire lived in her… I’d seen it before.

I stopped beside her, offering my hand, not in affection, but alliance.

Her eyes flicked down to it, then back to my face. “So now I’m good for show? Could assume that you wanted me to be locked up considering the fact that you didn’t want me by your side earlier.”

“For now,” I said quietly, smiling for the crowd. “You do clean up well. I wouldn't have expected that from a low rank like yourself.”

“I believe that you should know that the two of us can act our part well enough.” she replied just as softly.

My smile didn’t falter. “Touché.”

She took my hand.

And in that moment, when our fingers locked, cold and hot and tight between tension, I knew Ava was right.

Andrea wasn’t a problem.

She was

a storm.

And I had just stepped into the eye of it.