Free Prince Charming by Gaelen Foley Page A

and so be it, though it was akin to a death sentence. “I will do as you ask. But I fear there are no more like her, sir.”
    His father suddenly grinned. Full of courage even in the face of death, Rafe thought in awe. The king slapped him heartily on the back. “You’re right about that. Come on, then. We’ve got to go over a few administrative details.”
    Lazar threw his arm around Rafe’s shoulders, pulling him back toward the council chamber, though Rafe’s mind was still reeling. “You’re going to do fine, son. Now, I’ve arranged for Don Arturo to work closely with you….”
    If one day he could be half the man his father was, he would consider his life a success, he thought, still shaken by the news. Yet somehow his mind refused to accept the idea that his father was dying.
    Perhaps that was why his thoughts flew to other possible explanations—including sinister ones. Surely the doctors had checked for poison.
    If they had found it present, Father would not have accepted the diagnosis of stomach cancer. Besides, who would want to poison the great, the renowned King Lazar di Fiore, the so-called Rock of Ascencion? His Majesty was loved and revered by all.
    One thing was certain—Rafe was going to pay a visit to the royal physician and grill him for information. Also, he decided to send his own chef on the ship with his family, for he knew the man could be trusted. He would replace the ship’s provisions before they sailed, too.
    Fortunately, he knew that if his father really were in danger from some outside source, there could be no safer place for him than under Darius’s roof in Spain. His sister’s fierce, deadly husband had always been the watchdog of the royal family, the very man who had found the means to turn the French invaders away from Ascencion’s shores on that fateful day ten years ago.
    Indeed, no matter what threat they faced, they had always been strongest when the whole family pulled together. A thought to keep in mind when he chose his bride.
    This time, Rafe took his seat at the foot of the table with a grave and troubled countenance. He murmured a stiff apology for his outburst to the members of the cabinet.
    Lazar cleared his throat. “My son and I have reached a compromise. His Highness has agreed to select one of the young ladies whom we’ve approved by the time I get back. The wedding will take place then. I see no need to rush him into a decision now. After all, choosing in too great haste may result in a decision he might later regret. In any event, the prince has many other matters to occupy his mind presently, as I’m sure you will agree.”
    They muttered grudging assent.
    Rafe met his father’s hard but encouraging glance from down the long table.
    The time was at hand—the time to prove they had all underestimated him. He looked down at his cousin’s notes, his heart pounding. He skimmed the page, feeling like a schoolboy before the headmaster, dreading to give the wrong answer. He took a deep breath and lifted his chin.
    “Very well, my lords,” he said a trifle nervously. “Where do you wish to begin?”
    Don Arturo sent him a keen, pointed look. “Where do you wish to begin, Your Highness?”
    Rafe stared blankly at him for a second.
    Those first seconds of full monarchal authority were like taking a huge, green-broke racehorse out for a run in the spring, pure power exploding under him, barely under his control. It was thrilling, dizzying, intoxicating. But years of merciless drills in a hundred different subjects had prepared him for this moment, and his training took over.
    When he spoke next, his voice was firm, commanding: “Let us start with this matter of the drought. What is the status of the city’s water reserves? And give me an estimate on how quickly we can build more irrigation canals to supply the lowland wheat farms.”
    The minister of agriculture raised his finger and offered a reply.
    Rafe listened intently, willing back his equilibrium.