Feeling every bit the recalcitrant prince he was known to be, Vasili once again rebelled against the system that he could never escape. He looked over their heads, defiance etched in every line on his face, and with teeth bared he ground out, ‘Fine. I’ll marry her.’

Both royal secretaries turned around in unison, to glance in the direction of the new King’s gaze, and found the librarian staring wide-eyed at the three of them, clearly having overheard the entire conversation.

‘Your Majesty…’ Andreas whipped back around, his face a mix of horror and frustration. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘Andreas is right. You can’t marry the librarian. She isn’t an appropriate queen for the Kingdom,’ Carissa tried to reason with him.

Vasili stared hard at the communications secretary. ‘And just who would be an appropriate queen, exactly?’

‘You need to marry a noble. It’s tradition. Every consort in our history has been a royal in their own right. It projects the right image. Of strength and endurance. Please, you have to think of the throne.’

Carissa’s words were like kindling to flame. And the realisation that she had said the wrong thing was soon reflected in her eyes.

‘Are you questioning your king?’ Vasili challenged.

He didn’t have to raise his voice or stand over these two people he had quite honestly had enough of for one day. If he was now King, then they would see the kind of king he would be. Not one easily controlled or cowed.

Andreas looked horror-struck, as if the insinuation was the greatest insult. ‘Of course not. We would never second-guess the King. But it is my job to act as his closest advisor. I have done so for your father and your brother, and as such I have to say that this is not the best course of action. King Leander was to have married a princess in two weeks.’

‘Well, it seems that I need to remind you that I am not Leander. Nor will I ever be. It’s best that you heed that very important fact, Andreas,’ Vasili said smoothly.

‘Be that as it may, sir, she is a librarian.’ A puce tinge coloured his neck. ‘She may work at the palace, but she is a commoner, and never in the rich history of this kingdom has a commoner ever sat on the throne. Need I remind you of our heritage? Thalonia was named after Thalia, Queen Consort of the first King. A princess before that.’

‘Firstly, Andreas, I would mind my tone if I were you.’ Vasili rose gracefully from his chair to stand towering above Andreas and Carissa, who hastily got to her feet to show respect. ‘And secondly, there is a first time for everything. Your king has spoken.’

Vasili turned towards the librarian, still frozen at the counter. His eyes locked with hers. An arresting shade of turquoise, they widened in shock. Her heart must be beating a frantic tattoo—he could see the flutter of the pulse in her neck—but in that moment the world stood still. All that existed was him and her and nothing else.

A beat passed.

Maybe two.

Maybe an entire eon.

Then Vasili ripped his gaze away from hers and with his jaw clenched tightly, strode out of the library.

*

Helia tracked his movement, still rooted to the spot.

Her eyes were still locked on the door through which the new King had vanished.

‘What…?’ She whispered to herself in utter shock, her heart pounding furiously.

He couldn’t be serious! He had no idea who she was. Marry her? The utter insanity!

Yet her heart still beat frantically, its rhythm changing, thudding, as she remembered his eyes on her. He had never looked her way before, but in that moment Helia had felt as though he was looking into her soul. As if he could see the very essence of her. Those golden-brown eyes had been a trap. Ensnaring her. And for a heartbeat she would have given up her every secret to that look. It had excited her.

Which was an immensely ludicrous thought, even though it was one she wished were true. No one went from seeing a person for the first time—a person they had never noticed before—to choosing to marry them.

Prince Vasili was grieving. He had only just found out his brother was dead—from what she had overheard—so no one could possibly take him seriously. Could they? Of course, not. His advisors would probably rush after him and that would be that.

Helia thought back to when her father had died. Grief had clouded her every thought and she had only been a teenager back then. Surely Andreas would see that the King was not thinking straight. The King would need a moment to collect his thoughts and then he would speak to his advisors calmly and this whole crazy interaction would be forgotten.

She would be forgotten.

Whatever hope she’d had of him having seen her flared and died with that one logical thought—but at least she would have the memory of the one time King Vasili had seen her and how good it had felt.