Twisted-Games

rating shot sky high, nearly rivaling that of my grandfather’s.
I personally didn’t care much about ratings, but it was one of the most
powerful weapons in my arsenal since I didn’t hold any actual political
power. I also took great pleasure in the fact Erhall’s rating was nearly twenty
points lower than mine.
“Of course.” Erhall smoothed down his tie, looking like he’d just sucked
on a lemon. “What would you like to discuss?”
I’d built on my impulsive decision at Ida’s farm and created an official
Citizen Letters program by which Eldorrans could write or email me with
their concerns, and I acknowledged every one. The most important ones, I
brought to Erhall’s attention during the weekly meetings. He probably
wouldn’t do anything about the majority of them, but I had to try.
“It’s about the roads in Rykhauver…” I launched into my presentation,
ignoring Andreas’s smirk. I hated that he was there, but he was still
“shadowing” Erhall, and since he was second in line to the throne, no one
objected to him joining the meetings.
It didn’t matter. He would never be King, not if I had anything to say
about it—and, as crown princess, I had plenty to say.
“I’ll look into the issue,” Erhall said. Code for I’m going to pretend this
conversation never happened after I leave this room. “Now, Your Majesty,
about the tax reform…”
Edvard cast a sympathetic glance in my direction. He refrained from
fighting my battles for me because it wouldn’t look good if I ran to him for
help every time Erhall was a jerk, but I—
Oh God. I nearly jumped out of my seat.
Erhall paused and gave me a strange look before resuming his speech.
I pressed my thighs together beneath the table as the silent but powerful
vibrations resumed between my legs.
I’m going to kill him.
Rhys had ordered me to wear a vibrator all day and I, like an idiot, had
agreed. It’d sounded hot, and Rhys had a minute-by-minute breakdown of my
day. He’d kept the vibrator off during my meetings, so why—
My eyes fell on the grandfather clock in the corner.
Dammit. We were running over. Fifteen minutes over, to be exact. Rhys
probably thought I was out by now.
A bead of sweat formed on my forehead as I tried not to moan, squirm, or
do anything that might give me away.