Spellbound with Sly (Middlemarch Capture Book 4) by Shelley Munro

Author:Shelley Munro [Munro, Shelley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Paranormal romance
Publisher: Munro Press
Published: 2017-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

“The king is dead. Long live King Liam!”

The cries echoed over the courtyard and through the Great Hall the next evening. Inhabitants from the surrounding properties and the village had been arriving since the release of the news, earlier in the day. Now, they crowded the courtyard, all facing King Fionnghall’s tower.

Cinnabar watched the royal family as they stood at the top of the tower. Liam, the new king. Princess Katrina and Lord Calum. Princess Iseabal. Where was Sly?

As she wondered, King Liam turned and spoke to someone out of sight. Sly appeared and strode to the king’s side.

He didn’t remember her.

Not a scrap of recognition had flitted over his face when they’d met by the lakeside.

Princess Iseabal had won.

Sly hovered in the doorway, reluctant to draw attention. Calum winged a glare in his direction. It was obvious the man objected to his presence. Liam had explained that once Sly and Princess Iseabal married, he would hold more power than Calum, and if anything happened to Liam, he and Princess Iseabal would rule Seelie.

Until their marriage took place, Calum stood above Sly in ranking.

Sly’s mouth pulled firm, revulsion filling him. Politics. Power. Not for him. He’d prefer to spend time on the land. Animals didn’t care about society and their proper place. He shifted his focus to Princess Iseabal. Her mood drifted like a dark cloud about to unleash a storm. Every muscle in her body quivered with angry tension, and she replied in clipped syllables whenever anyone spoke to her.

She was pissed because the reading of the final banns would not occur on schedule. The period of mourning—four weeks of official grieving and respect—trumped wedding procedures.

A sense of relief filled him, along with confusion. He spent every afternoon with Princess Iseabal, every evening. Sometimes they went dancing. Some evenings they attended private parties. Yet, he and the princess didn’t appear compatible. Their relationship seemed more about appearances. Without thinking he’d called her by name yesterday, omitting her title, and she’d thrown a wobbly fit, ordering him to address her as Princess Iseabal. She insisted on formalities, unlike Liam, her older brother. Hell, now the king.

Then, he’d kissed her good night—a fiancé should be able to kiss his lady—but she hadn’t enjoyed that either. Nor had he. It had been like embracing a wooden statue. No, he didn’t understand the woman he was to marry and welcomed the delay in their nuptials.

Liam held up his hand and waited for the crowd to quiet. “It is with deep regret that I announce the passing of my father, King Fionnghall. The funeral will take place in four cycles.” He paused, his chest rising and falling before he continued. “I, my sisters and brother-in-law, wish to thank you for your attendance today, for your condolences and messages of sympathy. We invite you to attend the funeral wake to pay your last respects. The wake will take place on the cycle before the funeral. I… Thank you,” Liam said. “Announcements of the program will be posted in the courtyard this eve.

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