I will have set this fire for no reason. A pyromaniac with lofty ideals. An arsonist with a self-important streak.
And the scariest thing of all?
Now that the sparks are flying… now that the flames are creeping ever faster across the terrain of my soul… There will be no dousing them. I fear the inferno of injustice in my heart may never be extinguished.
I will burn for my countrymen until my enemies pry the ashes of this crown from my immolated hands.
“You’re quite distracted this evening, Your Majesty,” a male voice whispers in my ear.
I jolt out of my dark spiral of thoughts, startled by the skim of Alden’s lips against the shell of my ear and the press of a warm thigh against mine beneath the table. Glancing over, I find he’s staring at me with a mixture of amusement and concern.
“I don’t believe you’ve heard a single word I’ve said for the past five minutes.”
“Sorry,” I bleat, cheeks going red. “It’s been a long week.”
“Don’t apologize. These dreadful functions could induce narcolepsy in an insomniac.”
I chuckle, not disagreeing with him. My eyes flicker to the man at the stage podium; he’s been droning on for nearly an hour about plans to launch an urban mural project in impoverished sections of Vasgaard. Evidently, he believes a little art will be enough to stave the pain of socioeconomic inequality amongst our country’s poorest citizens.
And here I thought it was a livable minimum wage and access to universal healthcare. Silly me.
“I admit, I was ready for bed hours ago,” I confide lowly. “But you seem alert enough for the both of us, Lord Sterling.”
Alden leans even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper the others at our table can’t overhear. “That’s because I’m sitting next to the most beautiful woman in the room.” He pauses. “Arguably in the world, actually.”
My heart pangs uncomfortably. I’m still unaccustomed to receiving compliments from him, though he has been showering them upon me with increasing frequency, these past few weeks. It would be rather petty to tell him to back off after all he’s done to support me.
While the rest of the Sterling clan has championed the opposition, Alden has taken up residence firmly on my side of the issue. He has been a constant companion — accompanying me to nearly every event, a buffer whenever his fellow aristocrats descend like wolves eager to tear me apart. At first, I believed he might be a double-agent, sent by his family to infiltrate my ranks and destroy my campaign from the inside out. But, over the course of hours and days and weeks spent in his company… with his authenticity, honesty, and stalwart support… he has earned my trust.
Bit by bit.
Sliver by sliver.
So methodically, so unassumingly, before I knew it I found myself depending on Alden almost as much as I do Chloe, Galizia, Simms, and Riggs. His warm disposition and easy friendship has been a welcome presence during an otherwise chaotic period of my life. Not to mention a distraction from the ever-present ache inside my chest, where my heart used to reside. Some days, in his company, I’m almost able to manage a genuine smile.
Almost.
I’m certain Alden’s allegiance has caused a strain within his family ranks — according to Chloe, he and his sister are no longer on speaking terms, nor is he currently residing at Westgate Manor. Still, he’s never wavered in his loyalty to me. Not once.
“Did I miss anything vital?” I ask, jerking my chin toward the stage.
“Not remotely. Half the room glazed over twenty minutes ago.”
“I can’t lie, I’m relieved the vote is almost here. I’m not sure how many more of these functions I can attend.”
Alden’s pale blond brows lift. “I hate to break it to you, My Queen, but you are in for a lifetime of events such as these. Perhaps not so many in such a short span of time, but there is no avoiding them altogether.”
My lips twist into a pout. “Don’t remind me. I fear my reign won’t last long; I’ll be bored to death by age twenty-five. The opposition will rejoice.”
“Speaking as someone who has spent all his life at events like this, I can tell you with authority — the trick to surviving them is simply in finding the right someone to sit beside. Choose your dinner partner wisely and even the most boring social events become manageable.”
I smile at him. “I chose rather well tonight, I suppose.”
He winks at me. “As did I. Though tonight has not nearly been so painful as other events we’ve attended, of late.”
“True enough. No one was overtly rude. At least, not to my face.” I grimace. “Not like that god-awful open house at the National Astronomy Initiative, last week. Who knew scientists could be so snobby?”
“You forget — those scientists’ budgets are at the mercy of our current Parliamentary leaders. They can’t risk their funding by backing a political cause that may or may not succeed.”