Chapter 3 EPISODE 3

I CONSIDERED FILING A STOMACH FLU CLAIM. Alternatively, a crippling headache. panic disorder. Anything to avoid having to eat breakfast, really.

Then I remembered Mark and how he always discussed putting on a brave face. That wasn't something I was very good at. But maybe he would give me some credit if I at least walked downstairs and tried to be present.

I requested my maids to dress me in the most modest outfit I owned in the hopes that I could undo part of what I'd done. They understood not to inquire about the previous evening based solely on that request. It had sleeves that nearly reached my elbows, and the neckline was a little higher than the ones we generally wore in the warm Los Angeles weather. It was floral and upbeat, the complete reverse of last night's attire.

When I first entered the dining room, I was hardly able to look at Mark, but at least I walked tall.

I finally caught a glimpse of him, and he was beaming as he watched me. I again ducked my head, pretended to be extremely engaged in my quiche, and he winked at me as he chewed his food.

Glad to see you dressed up today, Kylie yelled.

Glad to see you feeling so terrific.

She snarled, "What in the world has happened to you.

I lost hope and gave up. "Kylie, I'm not up for this today. Just give me some space.

She appeared as like she may fight back for a split second, but I decided I wasn't worth it. She adjusted her posture a little and carried on eating. Last night's triumph would have allowed me to defend my conduct, but as it was, I couldn't even pretend to be pleased.

I took a chance and looked back at Mark. He wasn't looking at me, but he was still trying to hide his smug face as he cut his food. There it was. I wasn't going to put up with this kind of day. When a butler entered the room, I was about to faint, clutch my stomach, or do anything to get me out of the space. He bowed before presenting King Clarkson with a silver dish with an envelope.

The letter was taken by the king, who swiftly read it. He murmured, "Damn French." I'm sorry, Amberly, but it appears that I'll be departing in the next hour.

She muttered, "Another issue with the trade agreement?"

"Yes. I believed we had settled our differences months ago. On this point, we must be unyielding. He got up, placed his napkin on his plate, and walked over to the front door.

Mark yelled, "Father," while standing. "Aren't you hoping I'll show up?"

Given that the king's customary manner of instruction involved barking orders for his son to obey, it had seemed weird to me that he had not done so when he left. He instead turned to Mark, his speech sharp and his eyes cold.

"You'll get to experience what a king does when you're ready to act like a king should." He left us without saying anything else.

After being called out in front of everyone, Mark stood for a little period of time, startled and humiliated by his father's decision. He turned to his mum and sat down. He said, joking away the tension, "Wasn't really looking forward to that flight, if I'm being honest." The rest of us disregarded the queen's smile, which she of course had to give.

After finishing their breakfasts, the other females excused themselves and went to the women's restroom. I looked up at him when just Mark, Ella, and I were still seated at our tables. We simultaneously pulled our ears and grinned thereafter. When Ella eventually went, we gathered in the center of the space without being harassed by the butlers and maids tidying up the area around us.

I bemoaned, "It's my fault he's not taking you.

"Perhaps," he waggled. "Believe me, he has attempted to put me in my place before, and he has a gazillion justifications in his head for why he feels he should. If his primary motivation this time was retaliation, it wouldn't surprise me. The more likely that is for him the closer I go to choosing a wife, the less he wants to surrender control. Despite the fact that we both know he won't completely let go.

"You could just send me home, I suppose. He won't ever permit you to choose me. I still hadn't informed Mark about how his father had cornered me, threatening me in the middle of the hall after Mark convinced him into letting me stay. I didn't want to offend King Clarkson because he had made it clear that I was to keep our chat between us private. However, I detested concealing it from Mark.

After last night, I don't think you're that keen on keeping me anyway, I continued, crossing my arms.

His lips were bit. I apologize for my laughter, but what else could I have done?

I mumbled, still feeling ashamed by my failed attempt to entice him, "I had plenty of ideas." I feel so foolish. I cupped my hands about my head.

He gently beckoned me into an embrace and said, "Stop." I'm telling you, that was incredibly tempting. However, you are not that girl.

However, shouldn't I be? Isn't that a component of who we are? I bawled into his tummy.

He asked, his voice low, "Don't you remember the night in the safe room?"

Yes, but that was essentially us bidding farewell.

It would have been a wonderful way to say goodbye.

I moved away and hit him with a swatter. He laughed, relieved to have dispelled the unease.

"Let's forget about it," I said.

"Very well," he concurred. Additionally, you and I need to work on a project.

"We do?"

Yes, and now that my father has passed away, it will be convenient to begin brainstorming.

"All right," I responded, eager to take part in our private conversation.

I became concerned about what he was intending as he sighed. "You are correct. You are not beloved by your father. But if we can pull off one item, he might have no choice but to budge.

"Which one is?"

"We have to make you the favorite of the people."

I grinned wryly. Is that what we are focusing on? That won't ever happen, Mark. After attempting to help Marlee, I came across a poll in one of Camile's publications. People have a hard time with me.

Opinions shift. Do not allow that one incident depress you too much.

Still feeling forlorn, what was I to say? I had to at least give it a shot if this was my only choice.

"Fine," I replied. "But I can assure you that this won't work."

He drew in and gave me a long, slow kiss while grinning impishly. "And I can assure you that it will,"