“He was... polite.” Raesinia’s eyes widened. He can’t be taking this where I think he’s taking it.
But he was. The king looked down at her gravely and clasped his hands behind his back.
“He has expressed great admiration for you,” he said. “And he remains, somewhat to my distress, unmarried. As do you, I believe.”
Raesinia stared at him, searching for words.
“You will need a consort, of course, if the house of Orboan is to continue,” Georg went on. “And aside from my personal considerations, a union between you and Matthew would guarantee ongoing peace between Borel and Vordan.”
“Your Majesty...” Raesinia said, then shook her head. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“Surely you must be aware that a continuation of the family line is an expectation of those in our position?”
“Of course,” Raesinia said. “But given the crises since my father’s death, I haven’t given the matter much thought.”
“Perhaps it’s age that gives one perspective,” Georg said, with another small smile.
I’m getting really sick of people telling me how being older helps them understand. Raesinia’s trained reflexes kept her features neutral, but she felt her teeth clenching. “I take it Matthew knows about this offer?”
“He does. And he approves.”
No wonder he’s been so persistent. “I hope you’re not expecting an answer right away. I will need to consult my advisers.”
“Oh, without a doubt. But now you have my offer. If you want me to go against the best recommendations of the Honest Fellows, then I need to know that what I’m getting will be worth the price. A guarantee of peace is the only thing that will serve.” He inclined his head. “Have a pleasant evening, Your Highness. I hope to hear from you soon.”
*
Bastard, Raesinia thought as she paced the floor of her foyer. Conniving bastard.
Eric had taken one look at her expression and scuttled back to his own room, and her maids were similarly employing themselves elsewhere. Even Barely and Jo were standing guard in the corridor, out of sight. When did everyone become so worried about my temper, anyway? She kicked a small footstool and gave a smile of satisfaction as it caromed off the wall, leaving a gouge in the paneling.
The king must have told Goodman about his “offer.” If not the specifics, then at least enough for the merchant to know that he could take a hard line and not risk having his monarch overrule him. In fact, better for Georg if Goodman pushes hard. If we can’t afford to meet the Honest Fellows’ conditions, then I have no choice but to take Georg’s deal or go home empty-?handed.
The door to the suite opened, and Cora blew in. She was wearing new clothes, a dark blue dress with clever little accents in lighter-?colored silk, and silver jewelry. With her hair tied up neatly, it was a reminder that Cora was really quite pretty, or would be once she lost the gawky angularity of adolescence.
“Raes!” she said. “You won’t believe what’s happening in the market.”
“I don’t know,” Raesinia said. “Right now I can believe almost anything.”
Unlike the others, Cora was sufficiently oblivious not to notice the tension in Raesinia’s tone. “Vordanai debt contracts are everywhere. It’s madness. Apparently someone worked out a legal form that allows for the creation of negotiable paper based on the resolution of an existing debt, even if the debt itself is nontransferable. They got it approved by whoever manages that here, and a week later every merchant in the market is buying and selling the things.”
“In Vordanai, please,” Raesinia said, closing her eyes. “Simple Vordanai.”
“They’re betting on our debt,” Cora said. “Making a contract that says one person owes another a hundred eagles when such ?and ?such a debt is paid. Which means the value of the contract is somewhere between a hundred eagles and nothing, depending on whether you think the debt is likely to be paid and when. I think information is getting out of the Keep to the market, and someone found out that you and Goodman were talking about what will happen to all that old debt, so they figured out a way to speculate on it.”
“Really?” Raesinia sighed. “Bad enough that I have to argue with that idiot, but now people are betting on how well I’ll do, like I’m some kind of racehorse?”
“More or less,” Cora said.
“So what are the odds?”
“Six and a half,” Cora said promptly. “Varying a bit for the specifics, of course.” At Raesinia’s look of incomprehension, she explained. “That means a contract with a face value of a hundred eagles is selling for six and a half eagles. If you want racetrack odds”—?she screwed up her face for a minute—“it’s about fifteen to one that we’ll get to an agreement.”
“And have you been putting any money down?”
“Not yet,” Cora said. “But I was thinking. I still have credit at the markets here, from back when we broke the Second Pennysworth Bank in the revolution. I could—”
Raesinia held up a hand, her patience reaching an end. “Is this something that’s going to help us with Goodman?”
“Probably not.” Cora deflated slightly. “I take it he didn’t like my proposal?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Raesinia said. As briefly as she could, she summarized the meeting she’d had with the king. Cora’s eyes went wide.
“The way I see it, they’re playing us between them,” Raesinia said. “Goodman pushes hard, which makes it more likely that the king gets what he wants. Or else we give in, and bankrupt the country trying to pay them back.”
“Or we agree and then renege, and the rest of our creditors pull out,” Cora said. “Half of Vordan would collapse, and that’s if the Borels don’t declare war.”
“The hell of it is, I see Georg’s point.” Raesinia’s anger was fading now that she’d put things out in the open. It left her cold and numb, like her blood was draining away. “This is the best way to assure Borel’s interests in Vordan, once Janus is beaten.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Cora said, toying nervously with her new silver bracelets. “He can’t actually expect you to marry a man you’ve barely met, right? It’s like something out of ancient history.”
Raesinia frowned. It was hard to explain that she’d always expected some kind of arranged marriage. It may be ancient history for ordinary people, but queens don’t usually get the luxury of choice. On the other hand, over the past few months she’d allowed herself to believe it could be otherwise.
“I don’t know.” Raesinia stopped her pacing and flopped into an armchair. “Maybe he’s right.”
“Who? The king?” Cora shook her head. “You can’t be serious!”
“He’s offering us an out.” Raesinia tipped her head back and looked at the ceiling. “You’ve said yourself we’ll never be able to come to terms with Goodman.”
“He seems unlikely to budge,” Cora admitted. “But aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“Marcus!”
Marcus. With his rough beard and kind eyes, a tough skin wrapped around a soft vulnerability that made him deliciously easy to tease. Marching into battle, where I sent him.