Page 103 of The Winter Princess
I take his hand. “We don’t need to go. You’re staying in Sondmark no matter what.”
He tugs me out the door. “I want to know if you’ll be marrying the Head of Restoration at The Nat or running off with an unemployed artist.” He smiles, but I feel his hand tighten as we draw near the conference room.
“We don’t need him.” Rik’s voice carries into the hall. “Let’s move forward.”
The words send a sharp sense of betrayal through my chest. I had to listen to that man carry on about the Assyrian Empire under King Ashurbanipal for over an hour. He owes me.
Even though I said the vote didn’t matter, my steps quicken. I’m ready to charge in there, bellowing like a Viking shield maiden and cleaving the conference table in two with a mighty swing of a sword. Oskar interrupts my progress, scooping me around the waist and depositing me into a cubicle. He puts a finger against my lips and leans against a desk. “I only want to know how the vote goes.”
“Badly,” I hiss. “Unless we get in there, it’s going to go badly.”
Someone raps their knuckles on the table. “Agree,” Agnes says. “He belongs where he belongs. All of us want to go home.”
I straighten and Oskar tugs the ties of my blouse until I’m level with him. He kisses me, which isn’t fair at all.
“You have your ballots,” Marie says. “Check one of the boxes and pass them forward. You know my thoughts, but I’ll abide by the majority decision.”
In the silence that follows, I hear Lynda’s earrings play “Holy Night of Joy and Mercy” and the shuffling of pens and paper. Oskar puts his hands in his pockets, but I know better than to think he doesn’t care about the outcome.
“All right,” Marie says. “We have fifteen board members and eight is a majority. First vote…stay. Second…stay.” Her voice gets more confident with each pass. Third, fourth, fifth, stay, stay, stay. “Eighth…” I hold my breath, hands wringing Oskar’s arm. “Stay.”
I shake his arm silently and am rewarded with the smallest smile.
“Count out the rest,” Rik insists.
I straighten, ready for a fight, and Oskar tugs my ties again, the fabric slipping through the loops.
“You’ve undone me,” I whisper, clutching the remnants of the bow. I put my hand up to fix them but freeze as the count continues in Oskar’s favor. He only brushes my hands aside and does me up again.
“Thirteen…stay. Fourteen…stay. Fifteen…”
This will be Rik. It’s a shame this will end on a sour note.
“Stay.”
Oskar’s hands drop to his side, and I blink several times.
“Rik, I thought you said we didn’t need him,” Marie says, absolutely incredulous.
“I meant for the meeting. He doesn’t like meetings. But he’s been front and center for The Nat over the last months, the least we can do is spare him having to be here. Somebody send him a text.”
Oskar pulls me down to the entrance hall, opening and shutting his mouth several times. I stifle a laugh.
“They might be fired by the end of next week,” he says.
“They know it.”
We drive back to his flat together while the roads are passable. In the lobby he reaches into his pocket, giving me the key. “I rang up Uncle Timo and had him send my suit to be pressed. I’ll dress at his place and let you know when I leave. Freddie dropped your bag earlier. He’ll drive you to the church when you’re ready.”
A pang of guilt goes through me. Weddings aren’t just for women. “You won’t have Uncle Timo or any of your cousins.”
“We’ll have a party when the dust settles. Your family can squish in with mine,” he says, painting a picture out of some absurdist night fever. “We’ll dance on a tiny dancefloor and talk too loudly. I can push you into the kitchen again.” He kisses my lips, the soft spot under my ear, my neck.
I shiver.
“Go,” he says. I turn to the stairs and power off my phone. In his flat—our flat—I find the dress laid out on the bed, along with a note he sent on ahead.
“Uncle Timo had this pressed and several tucks let out in the hem. If my ancestors were not as clever as you thought, come in the clothes you’re standing up in. I’ll take you on any terms. Love.”
