Page 62 of The Midnight Princess
“Can I be honest?”
She nods. “Always.”
“My father is a people person, not a…personperson. Crowds love him, and he’ll go down the line, shaking every hand and kissing every baby in Vorburg.” Watching him do it is like watching a master woodcarver coax concentric circles of water and the half-submerged form of a sea otter from an inanimate object. If you let your eyes relax, you can almost believe it’s the real thing.
“But if he’d married my mom, I don’t think he would have known what to do with either of us. For now, he just wants me to find a wife.”
Her brow lifts, and I want to kiss the curve of it, to have her lips press into my neck. To go beyond the scope of our assignments. Wouldn’t my father love that. My blood goes hot and cold.
“He actually told you so?”
“He suggested I get Ella to mentor me.” I nod, pouring out two cups of tea. Handing hers over, I lean against the counter at her side. “I know. It’s crazy.”
She blows on the surface of the liquid and gives a low laugh. “Not at all. He’s being strategic, and you had to go and choose the engaged princess. Your father must be furious.” She bumps my shoulder, setting off a wave of electricity that rolls through my veins but never breaks. “Ella’s not dating anyone at the moment, and you get along. I could set you up if you—”
I raise my eyes to the ceiling. This girl will be the death of me. “Don’t. It’s not why I’m here.”
She gives another light laugh. “Good thing, because—who would have thought?—Sondmark is running out of princesses.” Her mouth sobers, and she takes a swallow of tea.
“How have you done it? Find someone when you’re hampered by the, uh…”
“Massive generational wealth? Sense of entitlement? Burden of rule?” Her eyes dance. “Clara practically threw herself atMax’s feet, and if he wanted to back out, I don’t think she’d let him. She tells us that being in the military makes it easier for him to understand things like constraints on his time and how he’s supposed to behave in public.”
“And Freja?” I sip slowly, cooling the liquid with my breath.
“Oskar wants nothing to do with royalty, and we haven’t sorted out how he’ll fit into the institution because they moved too fast for us to figure it out.” She taps her cup and gives me the kind of smile where I know her throat hurts. “Can I be honest?”
My stomach tightens, but I clink my mug on hers. “Always.”
“My mother never would have figured it out if Freja had waited. Like the goddess she is, my sister acted first and let the chips fall where they may.”
Is this my by-the-book princess?
“They look happy,” I say.
“They’d better be.” She looks into her mug, eyes unfocused. “It’s going to get rough before it gets better.”
“How did Alma find Prince Charming?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. I don’t want to hear the answer, but it serves me right, being attracted to a woman who belongs to someone else.
Attracted?
Sure.
This will be my punishment.
Alma takes a gulp of tea. “You have to understand that my mother was brought up in the old days, when marriage alliances were worked out decades before they were executed. Even after the Pavian monarchy was toppled by a dictator, she fulfilled the marriage contract with King Zeren’s second son.”
“Your father?”
She nods. What does all this ancient history have to do with her and Pietor?
“She has spreadsheets maintained by Caroline, filled with eligible partners who know the rules of operating in a monarchy.You know,” she says, like I might actually know, “heads of friendly nations, men who don’t need the money, people from an impeccable bloodline… everyone gets a ranking.”
Her cheeks flush as she gets into her story, using words likebloodlineandeligible. They’re foreign to me. She dips her head, a curtain of dark hair falling between us, and my chest feels like it’s caught in a vice grip turned tighter and tighter. A question forms, but I can’t dislodge it.
Alma’s eyes dart to my face and away. This is not one of those times I can be trusted to draw my own conclusions. I have to ask.
“Are you talking about an arranged marriage?”
