The Runner (Part I of the Runner Series)

Chapter 34

I walk quickly back toward my room, my head lowered while my feet chart the familiar path. I am so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I fail to notice the King and his entourage until we nearly collide at the bottom of one of the main staircases.

I stumble back at his approach; he's large and imposing as he descends the stairs toward me, flanked by his personal guards. My mouth goes dry and I sweep a curtsy, keeping my eyes trained on the floor and hoping that if I duck low enough, he might pass me by.

No such luck.

"It's Lady Abby, is it not?" The voice that just minutes ago ordered my arrest now speaks to me directly.

I swallow, attempting to coat my parched throat and stand up straight, clasping my sweaty hands together in front of me.

"Your Majesty," I say. "You are looking well." Hatching murder plots becomes him.

He is dressed in his signature crimson, the gold buttons affixed to his vest polished to a fine sheen. As I look up at his cold, black eyes, so unlike Meg's, a blinding fury causes my vision to spot and extinguishes my lingering fear. The King stands impassively, stroking his immaculate silver beard as he regards me.

"I'm glad I ran into you," he says. "I have a favour to ask."

"Certainly," I begin, but he has already turned to dismiss his guards.

The men melt away and stand at a safe distance, their gloved hands loosely gripping the hilts of their swords. I bite down a sneer and turn to give the King my most charming smile, wiping my palms on the folds of my dress.

"Walk with me."

He marches down the last of the stairs and turns briskly toward the courtyard. I have to scurry to keep up with his long strides.

"You've been a good friend to my daughter," the King remarks as we walk into the afternoon sunlight.

"She has been a good friend to me," I tell him, choosing my words carefully.

"As you may be aware, she is engaged to Lord Grayson. I am most pleased with the match. At long last, we can unite the City and the Outer City."

"I was informed. The ladies are all looking forward to the engagement party tomorrow night."

"Then I am sure you know that my daughter is reluctant to form the union." He stops in his tracks and turns to me, his fearsome gaze full of challenge.

I stay an arm's length away, waiting, keeping my face impassive.

A few moments pass. He is waiting for me to say something.

I speak haltingly, "Young women are prone to romance."

His grey brows furrow. "A princess is not afforded the luxury of romance. Megra has a duty, and she must realize that."

I nod slowly, not sure what he is driving at.

"My daughter is confused. I have tried to set her on the right path, but she is too much like her mother: strong-willed and stubborn. I do not wish to force her down the aisle—I would prefer that she marry Grayson of her own volition." The King watches me and I force myself to maintain eye contact, ignoring the burning feeling of disgust welling up inside me. "Do you understand what I am saying to you?"

"You want me to talk to the Princess about marrying Grayson." The words taste bitter on my tongue.

"No, I want you to convince her to marry Grayson, without any fuss." His tone suggests that this is not up for discussion.