Chapter 192

Cora and Roger take a moment to look over all of us with fond eyes. “Damn, you all look so cute,” Cora sighs, putting her hands on her hips. “Roger really did this nation’s women a favor when he designed these uniforms.”

“All for you, my love,” Roger murmurs, leaning close and giving her a peck on the cheek. I grin, looking Roger over too and noticing that his own military uniform is cut in much the same style as the Cadet’s – though of course, much fancier. Chic, slimming, black, and with lots of medals to display his many triumphs.

“Mommm,” Jesse groans, pretending to be upset. “Stop checking out my friends.”

Cora grins, wrinkling her nose at him – she always does get a kick out of her son – and nods to me and Daphne as well. “You two also look dashing, though I’d expect no less. Daphne, your designs – they’re so beautiful. Do you think you could whip something up for me?”

“Hey!” Roger frowns, turning towards his mate. “I’m the designer in the family –“

Cora ignores him completely as Daphne’s face brightens. “Really?” Daphne asks, her hands clasping eagerly below her chin. “What are you thinking?”

“Something that will make Ella really jealous that she didn’t get to you first,” Cora says, reaching an arm out for Daphne and pulling her away a little so that they can converse. Roger nods to us and then goes with them.

The rest of our eyes turn to Luca. “You okay, bro?” Jesse asks, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he murmurs. “Don’t…fuss. Or I’ll puke on your shoes.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jesse growls, even while he grins. “These were expensive.”

“I have like, twenty pairs just like them now,” Jackson murmurs, crossing his arms and leaning his weight into his back foot as he studies Jesse’s shoes. “You can have some of mine if yours get ruined.”

Jesse laughs, opening his mouth – surely to tease Jackson about his newfound shoe collection, or the size of his feet, or whatever – but a loud clap comes from the front of the room.

Instantly we all turn to see my dad standing there with his hands pressed together, likewise dressed in his military regalia and crown. My mom stands stoic at his side, and next to her are Juniper and Mark also wearing their crowns. I’m a little surprised by this, actually – they usually don’t come to important functions. But, well, I guess mom and dad have decided that they’re big enough now.

“If we’re all gathered,” dad says seriously, looking around at us, “then let’s get started.” When no one protests, he nods once and opens the door to the council chamber, gesturing for us all to enter before him.

I take a deep breath and glance at both Jackson and Luca before stepping to Rafe’s side. Luca, to my surprise, meets my eyes and gives me a serious nod. I smile at him, nodding back and passing a warm pulse down our bond, letting him know that we’re okay.

But then I turn my attention to the task at hand, filing into the room.

I’m looking around a little anxiously, wondering where I should sit or stand – with my family, amongst the royals? Or with my fellow Academy Cadets? But my thoughts are interrupted with the sound of a slamming door.

I jump, spinning, to see the door to the room shut behind me but…wait, where is my dad?

I look around, but he’s not here – and…

Well, he’s not the only one, is he?

My mouth drops a little when I realize that we’re all in the room together –

Except for Luca.

Who is currently trapped in the antechamber alone with my dad.

The antechamber rings with quiet as Luca stares wide-eyed at his King. “S-sir?” He sputters out, not knowing what else to say.

“I wanted to take a minute with you, Luca,” the King says, his voice so low and dangerous that Luca almost has to strain to hear it. But he doesn’t dare lean forward to try to catch the words – not with the rage that’s obviously pulsing through the King right now. “To have a little chat about your behavior.”

Luca gulps anxiously, his stomach turning over, acid climbing up his throat. God, shit, he was going to puke before – but now staring down the most dangerous man in the kingdom? A man who tore the last monarch’s throat out with his own teeth?

God, he really is in danger of puking all over someone’s shoes.

“The correct response,” Sinclair snaps, “is ‘yes, sir.’ Can you say that, Luca?”

“Yes, sir,” Luca instantly responds, nodding and working to stand up straighter, shame pulsing through him with every heartbeat. Shit, this is bad. Really bad.

“Good. Now. On to the matter at hand. Do you think that it’s appropriate, Luca? For you to go running through my palace early in the morning? Shouting at the top of your lungs? Not only shouting, but screaming for my daughter, demanding that she appear? Demanding that she come skittering to your side at your beck and call, like some kind of whelp under your command?”

If Luca could melt into a mortified puddle of humiliation, he’d do it, right then and there. He presses his eyes shut and hangs his head.

“Answer me!” Sinclair barks.

Luca’s shoulders start to tremble. “No, sir.”

“’No, sir’ is right,” the King growls, stepping forward and snatching Luca’s face, pressing his cheeks tight between his fingers, making the boy look up at him. “Now listen to me, you fucking spoiled child.”

The way the King, his mate’s father, calls him a spoiled child makes Luca want to just…shrivel up and die.

“I don’t want a single one of your excuses, and I know that you have them. That you were drunk? Learn how to control your liquor,” Sinclair gives Luca a shake as he bites out the words, a pulse that vibrates through Luca’s entire body. “You were angry? Control your fucking emotions. That she betrayed you? She has another mate, Luca, and one who comports himself far better than you did this morning – so fucking learn from him.”

Luca groans aloud now, unable to help it, completely miserable.

Sinclair shoves Luca away from him, hard, like he can’t stand to touch him any longer.

“We’re all well aware that you only won that fight last night, Luca, because my daughter saved your ass – came running down to your rescue and pulled you out of that stupor. And don’t even think that it slipped my attention that your incredible luck at being her fated mate also recently made you a very rich man.”

Luca’s head whips up at this. “Sir, I offered –“

“Oh, cut the shit, Luca,” Sinclair growls, the ferocity of his expression stealing Luca’s breath and his will to speak. “You offered to give her the money – Ariel told Ella that, so of course the news got back to me – but you also know my soft-hearted daughter by now, know she’d never take it, or that if she did she’d put it right back into your gym. My daughter, no matter how you look at it, made you incredibly rich – prize money and media fame, both.”

Luca’s eyes press shut and he hangs his head – because Sinclair is right. The offer – he’d have given her the money if she’d have taken it. But…deep down, he’d known she wouldn’t take it.

“You will keep the fight money,” Sinclair says, and Luca raises his head to meet the King’s eyes again, not understanding. “But within twenty-four hours you will transfer all of the money from the magazine article into an account that I will provide – an account in her name. And then she, alone, will decide how she wants to allocate it. You’re not her accountant, Luca – even if you pretended to give her the funds, and she said she wanted them to go to the gym, I’m not as naïve about money as my daughter is. You were still in full control over how the funds would be allocated. An empty. Fucking. Offer.”

Luca takes a deep breath and then nods once, agreeing. “Yes, sir,” he whispers.

“We’ll discuss the matter of your uncle, and his incredible hubris, at a later date,” Sinclair snarls, taking a step forward and grabbing Luca by the collar, hauling him close so that Luca can feel the Alpha’s breath on his face. “But in the time we have left, I have one more thing to say to you.”

Luca crumbles in fear and mortification, his knees almost giving out beneath him. But Sinclair ignores this, holding the nation’s champion up with his fist alone.

“If you ever,” Sinclair whispers, “ever again raise your voice at my favorite child – Princess Ariel Sinclair, goddess-born, a fucking angel on this earth – if you ever dare to yell at her like that? Ever again?”

Luca’s whole body shakes as Sinclair brings his mouth very, very close to his ear.

“Then I’ll fucking rip your heart out, Luca Grant. And I mean that very, very literally.”

With a vicious shove, Sinclair casts Luca away from him, disgusted.

Luca stumbles back a few steps, his head still hanging, his shoulders slumped.

“Get yourself together,” Sinclair snaps, “and get in there. You’re still her fucking mate and I won’t have you humiliating her further by sniveling.”

Luca takes a deep breath and does as he’s told, straightening up, even though his skin is still ashen and his expression slack.

Sinclair studies Luca as he puts a hand on the knob to the conference room. “It would do you a world of good, boy,” he quietly seethes, “to spend a great deal of time licking her god damn boots. Do you hear me? You’re on thin fucking ice – and I expect you to treat her like the very literal goddess that she is.”

Luca musters his courage, and all the love he has for Ariel in his heart, and raises his eyes to Dominic Sinclair’s. “Yes, sir.”

Sinclair nods once, and pushes the door open. The two enter with Luca trailing a few long steps behind.