Queen of Stone and Iron (Celestia Book 1): An Arranged Marriage, Opposites Attract Romantasy by Lana Andrews

Author:Lana Andrews [Andrews, Lana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-05-17T00:00:00+00:00

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?

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