“You didn’t mention that in your report.”
The man gulped. “You hold an important position and your time and attention is in such demand, it is necessary to only present information of the utmost relevance.”
I leaned back in my chair, pinning him with what I’m told is a decidedly unnerving stare. “Relevant to whom?”
I continued before he could answer. “I assure you, Councillor, that the whereabouts and disposition of my betrothed is considerably more import to me than your need for more land to pay for your son’s unfortunate fashion choices.”
“Your Highness, I would never –”
“And yet you did.” Quite why he thought I was as much of an idiot as his son was beyond me, although I suppose young Lord Slospen had to get his lack of brains from somewhere. The sooner I could appoint my own councillors, rather than put up with those who’d managed to beguile, bribe, or blackmail my mother, the better.
Two months until my birthday. Two months until my ascension. Two months until I could ‘reward’ my mother for her ‘care’ by bestowing my most remote and miserable estate on her and insisting she move to it to recuperate from her many years of dedication. I bestowed my favourite smile on the jellyfish of a man, the one I like to believe makes me look like a shark.
It seemed to work, Lord Slospen looked near to fainting. I’d had enough, I dismissed him and rolled my eyes at the one advisor I did have time for – my cousin James. “You’d think if I was as terrifying as his reactions suggest, that he’d actually pay attention to his work.”
The DNA of Stories 