Tempting the Crown (The Crown 1)

“Ayla, I’m not actually becoming royal. This is for show. For Damon.”

It must have sounded sacrilegious. But why should we all continue with the charade behind closed doors?

“You are going to be the king’s Royal Consort. That is not a show.” She flipped open the leather cover. “Let’s get started.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Ayla. Or the crown.”

“First we will cover the differences between the king’s cabinet and the royal advisory board. One is a part of Galona’s government and the other is part of royal tradition.”

“And where do I fall as the consort?”

“You are under the royal side. But since the ball tonight includes both, you’ll have to study each group and understand how they fall under the king’s rule.”

“All right. I can do that.”

I’d spent the past year doing nothing but studying. I was a professional student. If I thought about tonight like an exam I had to cram for, I could nail the details down, no problem. I twisted my hair into a bun and grabbed a pencil from the desk, jamming it into place. Now I was almost ready.

“Ayla, can I have some note cards?”

She tilted her head sideways. “Note cards?”

“Yes. I need note cards if I’m going to make this work.”

“Anything else?”

“Coffee?”

She grinned. “Coffee is a must.”

I wanted to think I had found a new friend in this woman who advised me, but there was a noticeable distance between us that I feared Ayla would never let me shorten.

31

Damon

Who wore fucking tails anymore? I shirked the jacket off and searched through my closet, banging hangers together looking for a different tuxedo. I reached for a fitted coat, but Sutcliffe’s voice nagged in my ear. If I didn’t show up ready to present the new Royal Consort in true Galona style, I’d essentially be slapping everyone in the face.

I didn’t know if I was willing to do that. Molly was the goal. The reason the palace had turned into a circus today.

Guests were arriving. Champagne was being poured.

I threaded one arm through the jacket and then the other, grumbling as I buttoned it together. When the fuck had I become this man?

There was a knock at the bedroom door. I turned to see Sutcliffe glance over the tux with approval.

“Your Majesty.” He bowed.

“Did you pull it off, Sutcliffe?” I smirked, knowing he was containing his anger.

“I believe so, sir.”

He walked over, brushed the front of my lapel and took a step back. There may have been a time when Sutcliffe could have been a fatherly figure to me. A man I could look up to after my father’s death. But the minute he started to try to control my decisions, any chance of that was eliminated. I wasn’t going to let an advisor manipulate me.

His agenda was stuck in the past. He was aligned with my father’s philosophies. My uncle wasn’t far from their ideology either. I had wrested with him the first two years and finally realized I may be a young king, but I was their king.

A king who had served his country in the military. A king who had been groomed for the crown. A king who was going to do whatever the hell he wanted.

“Good,” I responded quickly. “Is my Royal Consort ready?” I looked at my watch.