Chapter 3 - The Order

(Alicia)

I encounter very few people as I’m escorted through the pristinely kept palace. Those who I do come across are all servants who readily stop what they’re doing and bow politely. Although I don’t miss the eyerolls directly preceding the act. Nothing new there.

Dour-face and the heavies deliver me to the gilded doors of my dear father’s office, after a quick rap on the door. At the call to come in, dour-face pushes the heavy doors open and steps inside.

“Princess Alicia, your Highness,” he says like a funeral director as he bows towards the figure sitting behind the massive desk.

“Thank you, Miles. You may leave us,” my father says in his deep baritone, and the lackey promptly leaves the room, adding a bombastic side-eye as he walks past me. I’m tempted to giggle, but my loathing for being in this room stops me from acting on the temptation.

“Took you long enough,” my father addresses me as soon as the door closes. His voice, as usual, drips with sarcasm.

I look at him, the imposing figure in a suit that likely costs more than a small house, as he remains seated behind his desk. Instead of answering, I shrug. I know it would annoy him.

He tries not to show it, but I spot the slight tick to his right eyelid as I do that. I smirk inwardly. I’m not going to make this easy for him. The only reason he summons me is because he wants something. I’ll do my best to make him sweat for it.

“Take a seat,” he grinds out, glaring at me. My gaze returns to his and I hold it.

“No thanks. I’m sure this won’t take long.”

I transfer the weight from one leg over to the other and keep staring at him.

“Very well. Your time to serve your kingdom has come,” he blurts out. Well, I am right. That didn’t take long at all. I cock an eyebrow at him.

“Really? How interesting,” I reply, careful not to reveal that he has managed to pique my interest. What the hell is he on about?

In his most regal manner, he leans back into his plush leather chair and hooks one leg over the other, looking only ever so slightly schmuck.

“You’re getting married in a month. I’ve got a team already working on the preparations. It would be in your best interest to give them your full cooperation. A woman called Chiara will be in touch.”

The blood in my veins turns to ice and my breath stalls in my lungs, but I hold my composure, desperate not to let any detail of just how much his words have thrown me filter through. I’m pretty sure he can hear my accelerated heartbeat, but I’m going to ignore that little fact.

Breaking eye contact, I spin on my heels and walk towards the door. “Good luck with that,” I sling over my shoulder as I reach for the handle. He is there with his supernatural speed, blocking my way before I can even reach it.

“You’re not running from this one, Alicia,” he spits out, and I retract my hand as if I’ve just touched fire. The last thing I want is any kind of contact with him.

“I’m not even in the race,” I reply coolly. “You have a daughter who is a much better and obvious choice for this particular type of duty.”

He grins, one of those ugly ones that is born out of pure malice. He doesn’t even bother to address my comment.

“This is not an opt-in kind of mission, Alicia. This is me, ordering you as your king, to do your duty to your family and your kingdom.”

“Womp-womp,” I reply, my voice dripping with boredom as I add an eyeroll for emphasis. He doesn’t move, but there’s another little tick in that eyelid that makes me zing in my petty little win to get on his nerves. Inside, I’m exploding in angst at the prospect of what he wants me to do, and anger at his audacity to try and push this on me. On the outside, I’m acting bored and uninterested as hell.

He reaches out a hand to clasp my shoulder, but my flinch backwards makes him retrieve that hand slowly. The tick is more prominent now.

“You can act as bored as you’d like, but it’s not going to help you avoid what’s coming, Alicia.”

I fold my arms over my chest again and look up, straight into his eyes.

“If this is so important to you and the kingdom, you should be giving them the real princess, the legitimate one,” I say. The tick increases slightly, and he blinks to get rid of it. “Me? Not worth as much.”

I know I’ve scored a hit, but I don’t revel in it. Instead, my anger is starting to simmer to levels it probably shouldn’t. Screw him.

“Once again. This is not up for discussion. This is an order.”

I shake my head, incredulity seeping through my every pore. “Huh. As I said… good luck with that. There’s nothing you can say or do that will make me follow that order.” But I cringe inwardly as the words leave my mouth, because we both know that’s not true — he wields Loki’s gifts, the powers of domination and manipulation.

I try to brush past him without making any kind of physical contact, mission impossible given his sheer size. His hand whips out lightning fast, latching painfully onto my upper arm. I recoil inwardly at the touch, even though there’s no skin-on-skin involved, a shudder running visibly through me. Then he lowers his head so that his hot breath rushes past my ear.

“I would think very carefully of the consequences of disobedience on this one. Especially what that might mean for Luka,” he whispers quietly, and my blood once again runs cold. I feel the blood drain from my face and my anger turns to dread. He’s using more than his powers.

I wish I could say the fucker wouldn’t dare, but unfortunately, I know all too well that he would. I have first-hand experience of what he’d be willing to do to his own child to get his way, to make me bend to his will, to manipulate me into submission. He is that kind of monster. And he doesn’t need Luka. He already has an heir and four spares.