Free The Cold King by Amber Jaeger Page B

begging her as much as he was begging the king.
    “And so you stole?” The Cold King was ruthless.
    “You do not offer them for sale, even though you have so many,” Konstantin accused.
    “Because they are mine!” the king roared.
    If not for hours of practicing, Calia would have jumped back as the petitioners did.
    The woman edged around her fiancé and knelt gracefully at the Cold King’s throne. “I beg you, my lord, to see our plight. Nothing could convince my father other than a real rose and nothing could convince you to part with one. What else could we do in the face of true love?”
    “You always have a choice,” the king said quietly. “Ten years in prison for the theft.”
    Konstantin, his fiancé and Calia all gasped.
    “Surely you cannot mean it!” the woman cried.
    “I do,” the king replied blandly. “It was my flower and he stole it. He should pay the price.”
    The woman fell sobbing into Konstantin’s arms and Calia’s heart ached for them. Yes, they had stolen but the judgment would take everything they had hoped for away from them.
    “Unless,” the Cold King intoned, “unless my servant can think of a more suitable punishment.”
    Calia’s face went red then cold. She was expected to render judgment? Or was he toying with her, toying with them all?
    “Your Majesty?” she asked in a small voice.
    He leaned back in the chair to look at her. “What would your judgment be?”
    From that angle she could see his eyes and saw that though they appeared to be a warm green they were as empty and cold as the rest of him. “Think carefully,” he murmured and she knew her judgment must be fitting or else the wrath would fall on her head.
    “First I must see the roses you speak of,” she said, trying to hedge around what was sure to be her impending doom. Visions of the cell she had spent her first days in came unbidden and she followed the king on shaking knees when he stood to lead the way outside.
    On the west side of the castle was a private garden and the king pulled a key from his pocket to unlock a gate and usher them in.
    Calia’s breath caught in her chest as she drew it all in.
    Roses grew everywhere—in the garden, along the walls, up onto the castle itself. They rioted in color and fragrance and she instantly knew how one flower could be so valued. A glance at the two lovers showed how much the flowers meant to them and a glance at the king showed how fiercely protective of his garden he was.
    But deep inside, she was angry. Surely the king knew how important the rose was to all the villagers. And clearly he knew that they had access to none while he had an entire garden to himself.
    His lips were lined with happiness and joy as he looked upon his creations and Calia hated to interrupt that but did anyway.
    “You grew these, Your Majesty?” she asked.
    “Every single one,” he responded.
    “So they are your property,” she confirmed.
    “They are,” he agreed, pleased with his servant.
    Calia turned to the young lovers. “And you trespassed and stole to have a rose for proposal?” she asked, willing her voice to be strong.
    The young fiancé glared while Konstantin hung his head. “I alone did. For love.”
    Calia nodded and hoped she sounded mature and wise. “Then you shall pay a fair price for the flower.”
    The king and Konstantin both started and narrowed angry eyes at her. She held her hand up. “I believe you own a rare pocket watch.” She prayed it was he and not some other wealthy young man that had always been flashing the gold piece around.
    Konstantin gulped and grabbed at his jacket. “I do.”
    “Then it will suffice as payment,” Calia said, making her voice strong.
    “But it was my fathers, and his father’s before that!” he protested.
    Calia squared her shoulders, praying the young man would see her reasoning. “And it is precious to you, just as the kings flowers are precious to him. You will pay him with your watch or with your