“For the last fucking time, I’m not marrying her!” I glower at my Councilors around the conference table. They are supposed to support and advise the king. Bullshit. The only thing they want to support is frogmarching me all the way down the aisle to Callista, the total chickenshits. I feel like I’ve been banging my head against the proverbial wall, but if they think they can wear me down, they have another thing coming.

“But, Your Majesty,” bleats Lord Charles Cecil. Stephen has always considered him a pompous windbag. I can certainly see why. “Lady Callista Sutton has threatened to call in her loans and leave the country in ruin. Your duty as the king is to put country first—”

“I know bloody well what my duty is and it’s not to martyr myself!” I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath so I can maintain my tenuous self-control and refrain from strangling Cecil. “Look, I honestly believe Callista is bluffing, and even if she isn’t, she doesn’t run the banks, her father does. And her father is too good a businessman to bankrupt a country he is so heavily invested in both personally and professionally. It’s just not good business.”

I’ve met the Duke of Frederick several times over the years at various official functions and I hope I’m right—we’ve never done more than superficial chitchat, but frankly, he doesn’t strike me as Father of the Year material. Nor Husband of the Year, for that matter. His wife, Adina, is lovely but more of a quiet shadow than an equal companion. And rumors are he’d had a lot in common with my father, his old buddy from university days. Both had a taste for expensive wine, cars and women. Especially women. The big difference being the Duke of Frederick could actually afford them.

“I agree with Your Majesty,” Johan says, and I give him a thankful look. Despite Stephen’s abdication throwing him for a loop and what he may privately think, publicly he’s supporting me on Callie and I’m grateful to him. “Although the duke has wanted to unite the two families for years and is very much in favor of Lady Callista marrying King Stephen, I’m afraid that he doesn’t have quite the same favorable opinion of Your Majesty as he does of your brother.”

Wait, did Johan just say Frederick doesn’t think I’m good enough for Callista? That kale-obsessed shrew with the potty mouth? I’d be offended if this didn’t give me the out I need. “Well, he’s right, I’m not good enough for her! Remember, I wasn’t brought up to be king the way Stephen was.”

Lord Cecil sniffs disdainfully. “The King of Matlavia is certainly good enough for the Suttons who are merely noble, not royal.”

Leave it to Cecil to be outraged on my behalf. “Well, if the Duke doesn’t think I’m good enough for his daughter I’m certainly not going to argue with him.”

A phone buzzes in the room—we all look at our mobiles and it’s Johan who picks up. He listens for a few moments then looks at me and announces, “That was Commander Brande. The Duke of Frederick is on his way to the palace and will be arriving in 30 minutes.”

Fuck! I run a hand over my face, barely muffling a groan. I’d forgotten that there’s a ball planned for the following night, to kick off the month-long festivities leading to the royal wedding. “I need to cancel the ball and we have to announce Stephen’s abdication.”

Immediately there’s a surge of noise as the entire council starts yammering away. I finally lose my patience. “Will you all please shut up? I can’t understand a word anyone is saying.”

Johan clears his throat. “Apologies, Your Majesty. I agree we should announce the abdication tomorrow, but we should still have the ball—to cancel the ball at the last minute would show the uncertainty of the monarchy at a time when you must present the most stable image to the people.”

Me, stable? What a load of shit. I’ve spent my entire life cultivating an image of the wild, unstable royal and a single party isn’t going to change people’s minds about me.

“In addition, since the Duke of Frederick is on his way already perhaps it would be best to give him the opportunity to dissolve the betrothal between Lady Callista and your brother, so it would seem more like he is the one who is choosing to end the engagement and less like your brother jilted Lady Callista,” Johan said. The others murmur their agreement.

I have to admit, this makes sense. If Frederick feels that he is the one to formally break off the engagement, then there will be less public humiliation for his daughter and family, and thus less reason for retaliation by canceling the loans.

I slowly nod. “Fine, the ball will go on as planned, but”—I look around the room and make sure my eyes meet the gaze of every council member—“the wedding with Callista Sutton is definitely off—whether mine or Stephen’s. Got it?”

Slowly, reluctantly everyone nods and I’m satisfied. With a little luck, the Duke of Frederick will cancel the engagement without bankrupting the country. I refuse to think that any other outcome is possible.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Your Grace." I hand the dignitary a glass of Scotch and take a seat in the wingchair opposite him. Johan wanted me to sit on the pseudo-throne, the single high wing-backed chair in the receiving room where King Stephen did his private but official business. Johan declared it would give me an aura of authority, but if there's one thing I learned from all my years of playing the socialite circuit is that people in power want to be treated with a certain amount of respect—as in, they want their ass kissed. If I'm to ask a favor of Frederick, dictating to him from a throne isn't the way to get it done.

"We are going to be family. Call me Lionel." He takes a deep draw from the glass and lets out an appreciative sigh. "Your brother's purchase?" he asks, bringing up the elephant who is not in the room.

"Probably. We both know I'm much more of a martini guy." I'm actually a beer and pretzels guy, but that doesn't go with the social butterfly persona I've built up over the years. "I’m sorry about Stephen. I’m sure it’s pre-wedding jitters.”

Frederick swirls the amber liquid in his glass and takes another hefty gulp, finishing the contents. He holds out the container for a refill. “I don’t think so, but I’m not overly concerned. That’s why every queen must have a spare.” He winks at me.

I tighten my grip around the neck of the bottle. “Callista would be very unhappy marrying me. You know my reputation.”

The older man snorts. “Do what you want, son. I don’t care and neither does Callista. She wants to be a queen. That’s what gets her off. You could do men, women, goats, and she wouldn’t bat an eye.”

What a ringing endorsement of one’s kid. “Stephen is likely coming back. We all need to take a deep breath and put everything on hold.”

Lionel shakes his finger at me. “Don’t even think about breaking this wedding off. I’ll ruin you and this entire godforsaken country if you do.”

“There are nearly three million people here in Matlavia,” I remind the nobleman, resisting the urge to bash him over the head. I remind myself of what I told the Council. Frederick’s a businessman. I need to appeal to the avaricious side of him. I refill his glass and lean forward. “If you bankrupt this country, you’ll be out millions of dollars. You can’t recoup money from an empty wallet. Let’s find a deal that works for both of us.”

“The deal that works for me is you marrying Callista.” He raises his glass. “Le roi est mort, vive le roi!”

“King Stephen isn’t dead,” I reply.

“He is to me,” Lionel says.

Had I pegged Lionel wrong? I thought his pocketbook was the surest path, but now I’m wondering if it is all about his daughter. I switch gears. “Callista deserves better. I’ll be happy to issue whatever statement that she wants. She can smear us in the press. She can tell everyone that the ruling house of Matlavia is full of liars and cheats. I won’t say a word in defense. Whatever story she needs to concoct or whatever accusations she wants to make so she doesn’t lose face, I’m fine with it.” It is, after all, our fault. I have to give something up. I’m used to being raked over in the media. Being called a louse by one more woman isn’t going to do much to damage my already sketch reputation. And I’d prove everyone wrong by being a steady hand on the wheel until Stephen returned. Then I could slink off to the privacy of my second-son apartments and the warm, loving arms of Pen.

“I don’t give a donkey’s ass about Callista or her pride. I’m getting invited to sit at tables that shunned me before her engagement was announced. Last week, I closed a deal with the royal family over in Sensensia. They would have never opened the palace gates before.” Lionel shakes his head, the sparse strands of gray barely moving. “No. This wedding is going forward if I have to drag you to the altar myself.” He sets the glass on the table and jerks his head toward his body man who rushes over and helps Lionel out of his chair. At the door, Lionel turns back and gives me a wink. “See you at the party, son.”

I am both right and wrong. The Duke is a businessman, but he isn’t letting me out of this wedding. It takes everything I have not to hurl the bottle at his head. I clench my jaw and warn, “I wouldn’t sign any more deals, Lionel. The king’s favor can be taken away in a heartbeat.”

The old man hesitates and then gives me a small nod of acknowledgment because if I am going to be the goddamned king, he better start treating me like one.

The minute the door closes, I move into action. “Johan, get Princess Caroline on the phone.” Caro’s dad might be the king of Sensensia, but his daughter does all the business deals. “I want to know more about the deal Frederick closed with Sensensia. And find out where the hell Stephen is. I don’t care if he doesn’t want to be king. He can at least help me figure a way out of this mess.”

“What about the party?”

“We’ll go ahead with the party, but we’re not announcing any damned engagement. The only thing Frederick is going to be dragging to the altar is his own regret.” Callista’s father may have me in a corner, but I’m not going down without a fight.