mumbling under his breath.
“Kings do not mumble,” Quincy said, earning a glare from his father.
“And princes do not tell their kings what not to do,” he said, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “Nearly finished.” Quincy leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, slouching. “I can still see you. Sit up straight before you hurt your back.”
“I don’t know… I’m quite comfortable.”
His father’s pen scratched across the heavy paper as he signed it. He pressed a button on his desk. A moment later, a door to the right side opened and the king’s second in command, Marcel, appeared.
“My Prince, Quincy,” he said, bowing his head to him, then the king. “The announcement is signed and ready?”
“Yes, but hold onto it for a moment, please. I must confer with the prince on several matters.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Marcel said. He exited the same way he entered.
As the door closed, Quincy’s eyes narrowed as he turned to his father. “Confer with me on what?”
“The wedding.”
“Your wedding? I think you want to speak with your future wife on those matters, Father. I’m afraid I don’t know the first thing about place settings or flower arrangements.”
His father sighed as he got to his feet. “I meant your wedding, Quin.”
Quincy sat up as he stared at his father. “I thought we’d been through this. I’m not ready.”
“That is not for you to decide anymore,” Lamont informed him. “Quin, you are twenty-three, the perfect marrying age. There are plenty of suitable bachelorettes ready for you to take their hands, many of whom are daughters of very powerful and very wealthy parents.”
“I thought it was the twenty-first century. Why do I still have to have an arranged marriage?”
“The year doesn’t matter when you’re royalty. This is your duty, and I expect you to do it.”
Quincy crossed his arms tightly over his chest, flashing the tattoos his father disapproved of, especially the one on his hand of a skull with tropical flowers coming out and beneath it. “And if I refuse?”
Lamont leaned on his desk, making sure he looked his son in the eye. “Then you will not only fail your king and country, but you will shame the memory of your mother. Quin, I love you, son, but it’s time to step up and become the prince you must be for our country.”
“By marrying someone I don’t like?”
“I have selected a few for you to look at. You have met all of them at least once,” Lamont commented and reached into his desk drawer. He pulled out several folders and handed them over. “I expect you to make a decision and invite that woman to my wedding in three months.”
Quincy stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Seriously?”
“Yes. I am no longer at an age to have children, and neither is Melinda. For this line to carry on, you must marry and bear sons. I’m sorry, but this is what it means to be a prince. Now then, to other business.”
“Sure, just like that,” Quincy snapped as he tucked the folders under his arm and stood. “I know what my duties are, Father. I will see to it that Olivia is given a rundown of what is expected of her. Will you force her into marriage as well?”
Lamont didn’t speak but handed over another sheet of paper. “This is the list of events over the next few months. You both are expected to attend. Show her what she will be required to do.” His father sat back down at his desk and started to read over more papers, leaving his son to stand there.
“Anything else, Your Highness?”
“Yes. You are to be an example to Olivia of how royalty behaves. Do not disappoint me. You think I’m being hard on you now? I can be much worse. Now go. You have business to attend to.”
Quincy bowed his head reluctantly, turned, and left his father to deal with other issues. The folders under his arm burned against his side. He wanted to throw them out and never look at them, but he knew that wouldn’t solve the
“Kings do not mumble,” Quincy said, earning a glare from his father.
“And princes do not tell their kings what not to do,” he said, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “Nearly finished.” Quincy leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, slouching. “I can still see you. Sit up straight before you hurt your back.”
“I don’t know… I’m quite comfortable.”
His father’s pen scratched across the heavy paper as he signed it. He pressed a button on his desk. A moment later, a door to the right side opened and the king’s second in command, Marcel, appeared.
“My Prince, Quincy,” he said, bowing his head to him, then the king. “The announcement is signed and ready?”
“Yes, but hold onto it for a moment, please. I must confer with the prince on several matters.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Marcel said. He exited the same way he entered.
As the door closed, Quincy’s eyes narrowed as he turned to his father. “Confer with me on what?”
“The wedding.”
“Your wedding? I think you want to speak with your future wife on those matters, Father. I’m afraid I don’t know the first thing about place settings or flower arrangements.”
His father sighed as he got to his feet. “I meant your wedding, Quin.”
Quincy sat up as he stared at his father. “I thought we’d been through this. I’m not ready.”
“That is not for you to decide anymore,” Lamont informed him. “Quin, you are twenty-three, the perfect marrying age. There are plenty of suitable bachelorettes ready for you to take their hands, many of whom are daughters of very powerful and very wealthy parents.”
“I thought it was the twenty-first century. Why do I still have to have an arranged marriage?”
“The year doesn’t matter when you’re royalty. This is your duty, and I expect you to do it.”
Quincy crossed his arms tightly over his chest, flashing the tattoos his father disapproved of, especially the one on his hand of a skull with tropical flowers coming out and beneath it. “And if I refuse?”
Lamont leaned on his desk, making sure he looked his son in the eye. “Then you will not only fail your king and country, but you will shame the memory of your mother. Quin, I love you, son, but it’s time to step up and become the prince you must be for our country.”
“By marrying someone I don’t like?”
“I have selected a few for you to look at. You have met all of them at least once,” Lamont commented and reached into his desk drawer. He pulled out several folders and handed them over. “I expect you to make a decision and invite that woman to my wedding in three months.”
Quincy stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Seriously?”
“Yes. I am no longer at an age to have children, and neither is Melinda. For this line to carry on, you must marry and bear sons. I’m sorry, but this is what it means to be a prince. Now then, to other business.”
“Sure, just like that,” Quincy snapped as he tucked the folders under his arm and stood. “I know what my duties are, Father. I will see to it that Olivia is given a rundown of what is expected of her. Will you force her into marriage as well?”
Lamont didn’t speak but handed over another sheet of paper. “This is the list of events over the next few months. You both are expected to attend. Show her what she will be required to do.” His father sat back down at his desk and started to read over more papers, leaving his son to stand there.
“Anything else, Your Highness?”
“Yes. You are to be an example to Olivia of how royalty behaves. Do not disappoint me. You think I’m being hard on you now? I can be much worse. Now go. You have business to attend to.”
Quincy bowed his head reluctantly, turned, and left his father to deal with other issues. The folders under his arm burned against his side. He wanted to throw them out and never look at them, but he knew that wouldn’t solve the
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