Chapter 9 No.9

The Royal Palace smelled of beeswax and old power.

Julian sat in his wheelchair in the antechamber of the King's private study. He was wearing his dress uniform, the medals pinned to his chest clinking softly every time he breathed.

Duke Elliot stood behind him, his hand resting on the wheelchair handle.

"Remember," Elliot murmured. "The King is generous, but he is a merchant at heart. Everything has a price."

"I have my wallet ready," Julian said dryly, adjusting his glasses. He was nervous. His palms were sweating inside his white dress gloves.

The heavy doors opened.

King Edward sat behind a desk that was large enough to land a plane on. He didn't look up from the documents he was signing.

"Enter," the King said.

Elliot pushed Julian forward.

"Your Majesty," Julian said, bowing his head as best he could from the chair.

The King finally looked up. He had cold blue eyes that assessed Julian's value in seconds.

"Dr. Harris," the King said. "Or should I say, the man who saved my best General."

"I did what any soldier would do, Sire."

"Modesty is boring, Doctor," the King waved a hand. "You took a poisoned blade for a superior officer. That earns you a favor. Ask."

Julian took a deep breath. This was it.

"I request permission to marry Lady Imogen Sterling."

The King paused. He leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers.

"The Sterlings," the King mused. "An old name. Impoverished. Disgraced by her father's gambling debts. Why her? You could have a Duchess. A man of your talent and your family's standing..."

"She saved my life in the desert," Julian said. He looked the King in the eye. "She is the only one I want."

The King studied him. For a moment, the mask of the monarch slipped, revealing a man who remembered what it was like to be young and foolish.

"Very well," the King said. "But the Duke is right. Everything has a price."

"Name it," Julian said.

"My mother," the King said, his voice dropping. "The Queen Mother. The Levine incident has left her... rattled. Her paranoia attracts parasites. I need a medical advisor in her wing. Someone I can trust. Someone whose loyalty isn't to the old guard, but to the future of this Crown."

Julian understood immediately. The King wanted a spy. He wanted someone to watch the Queen Mother, to ensure no more "Levine incidents" happened, and perhaps to monitor her political meddling.

"I would be honored to serve as the Royal Physician," Julian said.

"Good," the King stood up. "Then you have my blessing. Do it tonight. At the Gala. Give the people a show. They love a romance."

Julian and Elliot left the study.

As they rolled down the hallway, Elliot chuckled. "You just sold your soul to the devil for a girl."

"Worth it," Julian said. He checked his pocket. The ring box was there. The real one this time. A three-carat sapphire from the Powers vault.

They reached the entrance to the Grand Ballroom. The doors were open, spilling light and music into the corridor.

Imogen was waiting there. She was wearing a midnight blue gown that hugged her curves. She looked nervous, twisting a handkerchief in her hands.

When she saw Julian, her face lit up. It was like the sun breaking through clouds.

"Did it go okay?" she asked, rushing over.

Julian smiled. He reached out and took her hand.

"Better than okay," he said. "Ready to make a scene?"

Imogen laughed. "With you? Always."