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Then his head had turned and he’d stared straight at her, as if he could see through the walls to where she hid, and she’d frozen. His eyes were a light silvery grey, pale and cold as winter snow, standing out starkly beneath his straight black brows and against his olive skin, and they were scalpel-sharp. Being stared at so intently had made her feel as if he was cutting away pieces of her soul, leaving the small, vulnerable parts at the centre of her exposed.
It had scared her so completely that she’d been left trembling. She’d told herself that of course he couldn’t see her, and anyway it was time to leave and make her escape. But then, as she’d crept along the hidden corridor towards the exit, the door behind the tapestry had opened and one of his guards had seized her, dragging her before his throne.
She’d almost been sick with fear, while he’d sat there, legs spread arrogantly and that unnerving gaze of his pinning her to the spot. Yet beneath her terror had been a thread of unfamiliar anger too—at him, for finding her before she could disappear, and at herself, for lingering when she shouldn’t have.
Hiding was what she did best—she’d been doing it for the past fifteen years—and yet when staying hidden had mattered the most, she’d failed.
Now she was here, standing before the new King, who was now demanding that she be his queen.
She could hardly process it, what with all the fear coursing through her body.
‘Wh-What?’ she stammered. ‘Marry me? Why?’
He didn’t move, didn’t even blink. ‘You are an Accorsi.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘There are divisions in this country,’ he interrupted curtly. ‘Deep divides that have hurt Kasimir. And as of today, those divisions will be no more. Your father was responsible for creating them, and since he is not here it will be you who will fix them.’
His voice was deep, resonant and utterly implacable, and something in it made her shiver.
‘But I…’ She stopped, then tried again. ‘I—I can’t be your queen.’
‘You will.’ He said the words as if it was a foregone conclusion. ‘The Accorsis nearly destroyed this country, and since Renzo fled rather than face justice, you will answer for his crimes.’
Shock began to move through her in an icy wave. It was true that Renzo was a monster, as were her two older brothers—she’d been the butt of their worst behaviour over the years and they were the reasons she’d never ventured beyond the palace grounds.
It wasn’t because she loved living here.
No, she hated it. And all she’d ever wanted to do was leave.
‘But I didn’t do anything,’ she protested, barely able to get out the words she was so afraid. ‘I never—’
‘You are part of the Accorsi family.’ He was relentless, cold as ice. ‘Therefore you are complicit. Which means youwillserve the sentence on behalf of your family.’
A ray of sun shone through the windows on either side of the throne, catching on the golden tips of the crown and glossing his coal-black hair. He looked utterly removed from anything as base as humanity. Untouchable, remote…god-like, almost.
‘You have a choice, Guinevere Accorsi,’ he went on, a warrior angel handing down divine judgment. ‘You can serve your sentence in a jail cell or you can serve it as my queen.’
Guinevere clasped her hands together more tightly to stop them from shaking.
Complicit, he’d said. Cowardly, he’d said.
Her throat closed. Cowardly, yes—she already knew that. But complicit in what? She had no idea. She’d been held a prisoner in the palace since she was a child and knew nothing of the outside world. Her only escape was the books she read.
She’d been hoping that today would be her escape physically, too—except it hadn’t. She’d let herself be trapped by her family’s enemy, and now she was facing a jail cell for crimes she hadn’t committed.
Crimes she knew nothing about.
Because you spent the last fifteen years hiding.
Guinevere shivered. She’d hidden, yes, but there were reasons for that. Very good reasons.
Silence lay heavy over the throne room, the smoke from the recently put-out fire in one corner filling the space with an ashy smell.
Tiberius hadn’t looked away from her—not once.
She felt almost crushed by the pressure of his gaze.