Landon's pov
Fucking hell.
I guess this means we're really fucked. Like, completely and utterly fucked.
We tried finding loopholes in the rule that said if a prince doesn't ascend the throne before thirty years, then it would be passed on to the one next in line. But there was none at all, except Hugo.
"What if you consult with the council members? They should be able to find a way around it." Damon snapped as he massaged his forehead. Our father, who's already used to Damon's moodiness, barely batted an eye.
"There's no way. I already searched for one." He responded and I snorted underneath my breath because I knew that was a big ass lie.
You see, our father never wanted us to find out fated mate, and I was certain as a reigning king, he could change this stupid rule, but he chose not to—- because he know we'd never want the throne to be given to fucking Hugo, so we'd end up giving in to what he wanted from the very onset— which is to get married to our betrothed brides.
