Page 65 of The Midnight Princess
Her resistance surprises me, but Karl solves the dispute by waving a plastic first aid kit. “No need to interrupt your work, sir, for such a trivial matter,” he says in a half bow. “I’ll see toVrouwTiele’s care.”
He whisks her off to an anteroom—the one dedicated to coats and ex-fiancés. Jacob wanders to my side and bumps my elbow.See? Karl likes her.
Frowning, Noah drops his hand, sliding it into his pocket. “How are you getting on with your training?” he asks Jacob, the question pitched nicely between official inquiry and friendly curiosity.
Jacob tips his chin. “Alma is trying to accomplish the impossible.”
Noah flashes a smile, the one which has broken hearts across the globe. “On my first international assignment, I threw up in a dignitary’s lap. I had spent the afternoon running around the beaches with my best friend and got heat exhaustion. My mother threatened to consign me to a dungeon until I could be trusted to hydrate and use sunscreen. You’ll do fine.”
“He doesn’t remind anyone of that story,” I say, when we’ve made our way to our suite.
Jacob dispenses with his jacket and pulls the shirtsleeves to his elbows. I rummage through the refrigerator and toss him a can of berrybeer. He pops the tab and hands it to me. I toss him the other one. “He must like what he sees.”
“My father would tell me to exploit that,” he admits. “He called me this morning—”
“You shouldn’t be telling me this,” I remind him.
I remind me. Sondmark and Vorburg are ancient enemies, no matter the rosy picture Mama wants to paint at the state visit. We shouldn’t expose our vulnerabilities.
He nods. “Did you ever mess up as badly as your brother?” he asks, swallowing down the beverage.
Jacob has worked hard. He deserves this. Fishing my phone out, I pull up my library of GIFs, clicking on the extended one with the charging Hispaniolan galliwasp on live television.
“This is a gaffe?” he points at the screen. “Your face barely moved when it scuttled up your leg.”
“It’s the first impression anyone gets when they google Sondmark. The Minister of Tourism produces a report every year, and there I am.”
“Do you have a problem with animals running at you, or is it a reptile thing?”
“Anything with scales.” I shudder. “Anything that slithers or has moist skin.”
He dries his hands on a cloth and grins. “His Majesty says I have to make myself marriageable.”
“You won’t have a problem with that.” I fill a plate with odds and ends, shifting around the tiny space as Jacob reaches for some chicken. A hard knot forms in my throat. “Your father already has lists of brides he would approve of, I’m sure. You could probably ask Karl.”
Jacob picks up a drumstick. “My father isn’t in any position to tell me who to marry,” he says.
“Whom.” I correct without thinking.
“You have to stop doing that,” he whispers, leaning against the counter.
Yes. We’re off the clock. He must get tired of the constant correction. I step back, tugging the neck of my jumper. “You were saying?”
“Whom do you think I should marry?”
My brain shorts. “Who.” I register my mistake as soon as the word leaves my mouth. It isn’t fair. I was looking into his eyes, English is my second language, and I want to kiss him so badly.
His eyes dart to my lips. Though I’ve worked a miracle these past weeks, turning him into a nearly-civilized picture of modern royalty, the façade slips away. He’s the same man in the jeans and leather jacket I met last month. He’d still kiss me if I asked him to.
Jacob takes a bite of chicken and wipes his mouth. “He can suggest until he’s blue in the face, but I won’t pick someone my father chooses for me.”
This topic hurts in several ways at once and I dredge up a smile. “If you’re already thinking about the succession, your metamorphosis into a royal prince is nearing completion. Do you want help finding a bride?” I scoot quickly past him to the relative safety of the hall.Please, not that.I’ve made numberless sacrifices as a princess of Sondmark, but I can’t do that.
He follows me to the sitting room. “Will I need help? Has a title made me unmarriageable?”
If he only knew the number of women about to throw themselves at his feet, he wouldn’t say such stupid things. I picture them as a mob, running at him in a thundering stampede.
“Not unmarriageable. But you’ll need to be careful when you select her.”
