The Betrothed

“My Hollis, what is so imperative that we had to speak now?”

I pulled in a breath. “It has come to my attention that you intend to ask me to be your queen tonight.” He smiled, knowing this was no secret to anyone anymore. “I had to tell you that I am not prepared to say yes.”

The excited fidgeting he’d been doing all night came to an abrupt stop. He stared at me as if I’d taken an axe to the stained-glass windows, as if the shards were showering down around us now. Very carefully, he reached up and took off the Crown of Estus, setting it on the nearby table.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s difficult to explain. You have shown me such respect and care, but I’m not ready to live this life.” I held my hand out. “You once said yourself that this role could change people, and I’ve found . . . I’ve . . .”

Jameson’s demeanor changed, and he came over, taking me by the shoulders. “Hollis, my love. Yes, I wanted to announce our engagement tonight, but that doesn’t mean we have to rush into a wedding. You can take your time, adjust. That won’t change my feelings for you.”

I swallowed. “But . . . but what if my feelings . . .”

His face grew darker. His mouth hung slightly open, and I watched as he menacingly pushed his tongue against the back of his teeth, looking me over.

“Have you been lying to me, Hollis?”

“No. I did love you.”

“Did? And now?”

“And now . . . I don’t know. I’m so sorry, I just don’t know.”

He turned, walking in a circle as he rubbed his hand against his chin. “I signed a treaty with you in mind. I’ve sent off drawings for your coin. As we speak, our initials are being embroidered on tapestries to be hung across the castle. And you would leave me?”

Tonight, Jameson would be symbolically recrowned with the same ancient crown used on Estus. The nobles who had their own crowns were wearing them, and most women were bedecked with jewels to mimic the appearance

“Do you love him?”

“Don’t be stupid, Hollis. Love is the final course at a feast that I’m still waiting to be invited to.”