I choke on my own air. “A—surprise date? Why?”
“Because you probably skipped the traditional honeymoon, and you haven’t even tried to make up for it, have you?”
Dread pools in my stomach. “You’re right, but why do you have to butt in on my romantic life?”
“Because I’m older than you one hundred times over. I know what women like. I know what they hate. I also know that you would never figure it out before you die, so if I don’t intervene, Alessia may go her whole life without knowing true romance.”
“Lief, this is ridiculous,” I say.
“No, no, he has a point,” Kharu says. “I think we should help you out, Aurelio.”
You just want to piggyback off Lief’s ideas to use them for Rhulia! I want to shout, but I bite my tongue before I can.
“It’s settled, then!” Lief declares, his wings fluttering as he takes flight again. “Operation Help the Hopeless Romantic is a go!”
“I’m not a hopeless romantic!” I protest.
Kharu and Lief completely ignore me. Kharu holds out his fist, and Lief does a tiny fist-bump with him, tipping his leaf hat to me as he does.
There’s nothing I can do. I’m doomed.
Chapter nineteen
Alessia
Istare down my father, who sits at the opposite end of the long, ornate conference table. The royal advisors, seated at random on the other two sides of the table, stare back and forth between the two of us, their faces graying as our silence continues. My father’s face is a concerning shade of purple.
Me, on the other hand? I’m seeing red.
“What do you mean, I’m not allowed to act?” I demand.
My father rises from his chair, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening as he stares at me, his left eye twitching as he says, “Because I said so, Alessia.”
“That’s a bullshit answer,” I snarl.
“It’s my answer, nonetheless. I refuse to let you act on Krasta’s behalf.”
I gaze at him, disgust curdling in my gut. I’m not sure how much of my dwindling respect for my father remained before this conversation began, but my respect is all but gone now. Just the sight of him has my blood boiling. His face is stoic and strong, unphased by my demands. He holds his shoulders back and his head high, but it only appears as the arrogance of an old fool in my eyes. His salt-and-pepper hair is thinning, and his muscle structure withering away. He’s transitioned from the traditional dress of young men to the robes of older Celestians to hide his embarrassing decline. He acts as though he’s the tough, wise ruler he’s always been, but beneath his thin veneer, he’s just an aging father with an obsession over the status quo.
The status quo will make us weak if we hold on to it for too long, though. Any ruler worth their salt understands this, but not him. He was not cut from the same cloth as me. Neither was my mother, the woman who gave into grief after the birth of a stillborn third child. Whereas my parents before me were benevolent peacemakers, I am a queen who believes in action and calculated risks.
This, however, is not a risk. This is missionary work to save a dying allied nation.
“How dare you,” I seethe, squeezing my hands into fists. “How dare you sit there on your dusty gilded throne, calling the shots from the shadows when you’ve never stepped into the light? You haven’t seen the suffering of Krasta’s people with your own eyes. You aren’t qualified to tell me what’s right for this country anymore. I will not stand by and watch as you invoke our age-old methods of maintaining normalcy while our allies suffer and die at the hands of faulty leadership!”
“You are a mere child claiming the title of a nation’s leader,” my father replies coolly, dark eyes flashing. “You know nothing of the pressure of royal decision making, the weight of people’s lives in your hands, or the impossible choices that lead to suffering no matter the road you choose. I will not have you march into another country and incite a war!”
“I’m not marching! I’m sending in missionaries!” I snap.
“And what happens after that? What is your grand plan, Alessia?”
“I will continue to provide aid until we gather intel on the situation in Krasta’s capital. I will send communications to their leaders when we discover a chance to get in touch with them. If we can work with the other leaders to dissolve this civil war, then we will reach a peaceful conclusion to an armed conflict, and their nation will be saved!”
“You are naïve!” my father shouts, slamming his hands onto the table. Gemma and the other advisors jump in their seats. “Do you really think your communications will be received with joy? Krasta’s leaders are selfish, Alessia. They will think you’re trying to manipulate them into believing you’re on their side, only for you to march in and steal their throne, just like their rival factions are attempting to do right now! Your communications, if they can even reach the royal family safely, will be seen as a declaration of war!”
“You don’t know that! You didn’t even know civil war consumed our allies!” I growl. “Don’t act like you know more about the situation than I do!”
“I don’t need to know more to understand our place in this! Stay out of Krasta, Alessia!”
