“Mother, wait!” Samir said faintly, his gut churning with unease. “I don’t want a spouse—”
“Nonsense,” Dalatteya brushed him off, her eyes glinting madly in a way that indicated that she wouldn’t let go of her idea no matter what Samir said. “I shall make arrangements at once. We will have to inform the royal press officer—”
“Mother!” Samir snapped, his harsh tone finally making her look at him. “I don’t want a spouse,” he repeated, more softly. “I really don’t.”
His mother sighed. “Darling,” she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “That’s exactly what you need, trust me on that. I want you to be happy. You need to forget about the—the infatuation you have for Emyr’s son. And for that, you’ll need to make an effort to meet other people. An effort to fall in love with them. Forget about Warrehn’ngh’zaver. He isn’t worth it. If you truly mattered to him…” She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him carefully. “If he loved you, he would never have given up on you just because your mother killed his parents and he doesn’t trust you.”
“Just because?” Samir muttered. “I can’t believe you’re so flippant about murdering his parents.”
His mother shrugged. “Perhaps. But my point is, his feelings aren’t strong enough.” Something shifted about her expression. “If I killed Emyr’s family, that wouldn’t make him give me up. I know that for a fact.”
Samir gave her a skeptical look. “Even if you’re correct, that wouldn’t prove that he loves you. That would only prove that he’s sick and you’re his illness. True love should be based on mutual trust and support.” He swallowed around the thickness in his throat. “But yes, ultimately you’re right that Warrehn doesn’t love me. He made himself clear.”
“I’m glad you understand it. So shall I proceed with the announcement?”
Samir winced. “Mother—”
“You asked me to leave Warrehn alone. I will abide by your request, but only if you abide by mine.”
Samir frowned, searching his mother’s face. She seemed serious.
“Fine,” he said with a sigh.
His mother smiled, her eyes glinting with triumph.
Samir was already regretting it.
Chapter 21
Warrehn was in a dark mood when he left his office in the afternoon. He’d been in his office since last night, figuring he might as well do something productive if he couldn’t sleep. Except the day had been largely unproductive. Everything pissed him off, and he’d ended up scaring away his assistants.
He craved some peace and quiet in his head, but he didn’t think it was possible, not when he was this worked up and angry. He wasn’t even sure who he was angrier with: his father, Dalatteya, Samir, or himself.
She’s worried I have gotten attached to you.
The words played on a loop in his head, making it hard to focus on anything else. It was disturbing how badly he wanted to believe them, discarding all common sense, and it was doubly disturbing considering that the drug was gone from his system. He had checked with the doctor, twice. He had no one to blame for these obsessive thoughts but himself.
Warrehn came to an abrupt halt, frowning as he entered the palace’s hall. It was full of flowers and gifts, of all kinds and sizes.
“What is this?” Warrehn said, surveying the room with a frown.
“The gifts are for Prince Samir, Your Majesty,” a robot-maid said cheerfully. “Aww, are they not lovely?”
Warrehn stared at her, wondering who had thought that it was a good idea to give a robot a personality like this, before walking to the closest flower monstrosity and picking up the note.
I have long admired you, and my regard for you knows no bounds. I hope you accept my courtship.
-Zhangir’ngh’sekur
His forehead wrinkling, Warrehn plucked another note, and then another. They were much the same: some flowery nonsense and offers of courtship.
“The fuck,” Warrehn said, crushing the note in his hand. He looked at the sea of flowers and bit the inside of his cheek hard, trying to suppress the violent urge to throw them all out and order the servants to do the same if they received more.
But he had no right. The drug debacle was over. Samir was nothing to him now. He was worse than nothing. He was his enemy’s son. Completely off-limits. The ugly possessiveness in his chest was just the last aftereffect of the drug. It was. It had to be.
“Please put the note back,” said a familiar female voice. “We wouldn’t want my son not to receive it before he chooses a spouse.”
Warrehn turned around and forced a blank look onto his face. He wouldn’t give that woman the satisfaction of getting under his skin. “Pardon?”
Dalatteya smiled. “Oh, have you not heard yet? We formally announced this morning that the House of Lavette is accepting proposals of marriage for Samir.”
Warrehn stared at her, struggling to keep his expression neutral.