Reign: A Royal Military Romance by Roxie Noir Read Free Book Online

candles.
    “No, I wouldn’t,” I say.
    “Of course you would,” she says. “Your family has ruled for hundreds of years.”
    “It’s not that simple,” I say.
    I think of Maksim the second, glaring out from his portrait. I want to say this castle has murder holes for a reason . I want to say the barbarians were always at the gates .
    I want to say right now the barbarians are attacking villages in the north, only now they call themselves the United Svelorian Front, and my father insists on pretending that everything is okay.
    “You’re of royal blood,” she says. “It isn’t complicated, Kostya.”
    Everything is complicated, I think.
    “When I was seven, I wandered into a part of the castle that was under construction,” I say. “And I stepped on a nail that the workers had accidentally left on the floor, sticking up through a discarded board.”
    Yelena’s turned her mouth down at the corners, and she puts one delicate hand over it.
    “I was so humiliated that I hadn’t been watching where I was going that I didn’t tell anyone. My foot turned bright red and swelled up, and I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want them to know I’d done something wrong, that I was anything but smart and capable, even at age seven. It wasn’t until my governess saw red streaks going up my leg that anyone realized I’d gotten blood poisoning,” I go on.
    I pause a moment, wondering if Yelena will connect the dots on her own, but she just looks at me.
    “If that had happened in the olden days, I’d be dead,” I finish. “But we have antibiotics, so I’m still here.”
    “What a stubborn child you were,” Yelena says, shaking her head. “I would never allow my child to be so stubborn.”
    I think she’s forgotten what we were talking about. She takes my arm again and we continue walking.
    “My dress for the ball is deep red,” she says. She’s already forgotten that I nearly died twenty years ago, or that everything was never perfect.
    Dear God, there’s a masquerade ball next week. It’s on my calendar, but I’d completely forgotten about it.
    Probably because I have thousands of better things to do than attend the ball Yelena talked my mother into hosting , I think.
    “Oh?” I say, because I don’t care and don’t know why she’s telling me.
    “Deep red with rhinestones on the bodice,” she says in her soft, sweet voice. “Your mother helped me choose it. It will look lovely with your uniform.”

    * * *
    F inally , we go back inside. As sweet and kind as Yelena is, I’ve had more than enough. I tell her goodbye very formally, and she leaves the palace with her parents.
    Hazel disappeared long ago. She’s probably asleep by now, and I don’t blame her.
    Everyone else leaves slowly, and then it’s only my mother, my father and I in the formal drawing room, standing stiffly. My father looks at my mother and nods once, severely. She nods back.
    “I’m going to retire for the evening,” she says, kissing my father on one cheek.
    “Good night,” he says.
    “Good night, my dear,” she says, and then kisses me on one cheeks. “Sweet dreams, Kostya.”
    “Sweet dreams, mother,” I say, and she leaves the room.
    As soon as the doors close behind her, my father turns to me. I’m a half-inch taller than him, but we have the same eyes and similar faces, though I got my mother’s hair.
    “I will not have you chasing after that unmannered American girl again,” he says, his voice deadly quiet.
    Something clenches inside me at unmannered , even though he’s technically correct.
    “I was being hospitable,” I say.
    “You chased her down, leaving Yelena Pavlovna alone at the dinner table,” my father says, his voice coming close to a growl.
    That’s what this is about.
    “I thought you wanted us to have close relations with the Americans,” I say, even though I know full well that arguing with my father has never gotten me anywhere.
    “Don’t you disrespect me,” he says.
    Anger flares