Page 8 of Scarred

I smile. “Long and uncomfortable, I’m afraid. But happy to be here all the same.”

He clucks his tongue. “And my father? He’s well?”

“As well as he can be. He sends his regrets he couldn’t make the trip.”

“Of course.” He inclines his head. “Come. Let me introduce you to His Majesty.”

He pulls my hand until it loops into the crook of his arm and leads me to a man standing in a tan country suit, a smile growing on his handsome face as he trails his gaze over my form.

I’ve learned so much about the royal family over the years that I could point them out with a single glance, despite never having seen them before. And from this man’s coiffed brown hair to his broad chest and giant frame, coupled with the unusual amber shade of his eyes, I immediately recognize him.

King Michael Faasa III of Gloria Terra.

Fire consumes my chest, hatred dripping down my insides as I dip into a curtsy, the lace hem of my skirt swishing against the ground. “Your Majesty.”

“Lady Beatreaux.” His voice is a deep rumble, booming through the courtyard. “You’re much better looking than I imagined.”

I straighten and incline my head to hide the flash of irritation that crosses my face. “You’re too kind, sir.”

He tilts his chin, his hands resting in his pockets. “I’ve met your father, you know.”

I let my smile widen, even though his mention of my father sends a ball of anguish tearing through my center. “What a pleasure for him to have held your company.”

King Michael’s eyes spark, his posture straightening as a grin blooms on his face. “Yes, well… it would seem that pleasure’s being paid forward, since now I’ll have yours.”

Satisfaction spreads through my chest, warming the blood in my veins as my uncle’s voice whispers through my head.

The faster you gain his favor, the quicker you also gain his trust.

Michael steps forward until he’s in front of me, so close I can smell the starch of his clothes, and he leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek. My stomach jolts at how forward he is, and my eyes scan across the courtyard to see people’s reactions, curious to know if this is common demeanor or something special, just for me. But other than a few people scattered through the massive yard, no one seems to pay us much mind, although I feel their lingering stares.

His hand grazes my waist.

I allow his touch, knowing I have no other choice. You can’t deny the king, and I have no interest in coming across as difficult. Continuing my perusal of the area, my gaze snags on a beautiful weeping willow in the far corner, a shadowy figure perched beneath its crying branches, his eyes locked on me.

My stomach tightens.

King Michael whispers something in my ear, and I hum in agreement, although I couldn’t tell you what he said. I’m too busy being sucked into this stranger’s stare, knowing I should look away, but unable to force myself to follow through. There’s a challenge in his gaze that keeps me glued in place. One that stiffens my spine and irritates my nerves, wishing he would be the first to surrender. He doesn’t, of course. He simply smirks as he leans against the trunk of the tree, running his hand through the messy locks of his jet-black hair, pushing the wayward strands from his forehead.

My breathing grows unsteady as I track along the harsh lines of his pale face, his fingers adorned in silver as they brush against his chiseled jaw, and his forearms dark with ink. And then my heart stutters when I notice the scar running through his browbone and ending just above his cheek, barely visible from this distance, and dull compared to the piercing jade green of his eyes.

My middle clamps down tight as I realize who he is.

Even if I hadn’t spent years studying the Faasa family, his reputation precedes him; rumors of his temper and tales of his extracurricular activities reaching even the farthest corners of Gloria Terra.

They say he’s as dangerous as he is unhinged, and I’ve been firmly instructed to keep my distance.

Tristan Faasa.

The younger brother of the king.

The scarred prince.

CHAPTER4

Tristan

“What’s she like?”