She imagined telling Marcus what she’d done and why she’d done it. He’d understand, from a logical perspective. Perhaps even agree that it was the right course, to save Vordanai lives, including his. But will he forgive me? She thought not. Marcus could recognize when a coldly rational decision was the correct one, but he could never truly bring himself to accept it. If she married Matthew, whatever the reasons, he would feel betrayed. And I can’t say he’d be wrong, because I feel like a traitor.
Raesinia curled up on the bed, on top of the sheets, and cried in a way she hadn’t for a very long time. Eventually she stopped, not because she felt better, but simply because she felt empty.
I wish Sothe were here. Not for her organizational talent, her spying, or her fighting skill. Just because no one else had been with her from the beginning, and understood.
Eric knocked at the door, calling for her. Then Cora, her voice full of concern. Then Duke Dorsay. Raesinia just pulled the sheets around her and lay still. Go away. I gave him what he wanted. Can’t I have some peace?
Eventually—?the curtains were drawn, and she had no idea what time it was—?the lock clicked, and the door swung open a fraction. Raesinia frowned, blinking against the brighter light from the outer room, and looked up.
“Cora?” she said.
It wasn’t Cora. It was Sebastian Carter, the tall, black-?clad majordomo, with a pair of footmen hovering behind him.
“Your Highness,” he said, pushing the door open wider and bowing. “I apologize for the intrusion. We weren’t sure if you were well.”
“I’m fine,” Raesinia said. “I would like to be left alone.”
“I understand that,” the majordomo said. “However, as you are being moved to new accommodations, I will need you to come with me.”
“New accommodations?” Raesinia’s eyes narrowed. “These are fine.”
“A new suite,” the majordomo said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Where you can be with the second prince.”
“What?”
“His Majesty was most insistent,” Sebastian said. “Your staff will be moved to their own quarters nearby, of course, so you may have privacy.”
“This is ridiculous. We aren’t married yet.”
“Those are His Majesty’s orders,” Sebastian said, as if that answered everything.
“I’m not doing it,” Raesinia said. She felt like there were ants crawling across her skin. “In fact, I’d like my things packed.” She’d gotten what she wanted from Borel, if not in the way she’d hoped. There’s no reason for me to stay here. “I need to return to Vordan.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Sebastian said. “The king gave very specific instructions. You are welcome to go anywhere in the Keep, but I will have to ask you not to leave until your union to Prince Matthew has been formalized.”
“He’s holding me prisoner?” Raesinia slid off the bed and stalked over. “That’s ridiculous. I am the Queen of Vordan. I demand to see the king at once.”
“I’m afraid he’s very busy,” Sebastian said, as imperturbable as a mountain lake. “But I will inquire as to when he might have the time.”
She glared. “Are you really going to move me by force?” She wondered where Barely and Jo were. Probably in the corridor, not knowing anything was wrong. They’d take on this butler, she was certain, but what would that accomplish in the long run besides possibly getting them killed?
“You are free to go to your new quarters, or not, as you choose, Your Highness. But I’m afraid the cleaning staff need to access this suite now that your things have been moved, so we can prepare it for other guests.”
She almost laughed. It was such a prosaic way to present a demand. Presumably if I stand here, they’ll just clean around me.
The despair that had afflicted her was rapidly transmuting into rage. Georg obviously has been taking his lessons from Goodman. Twist the knife while you had your opponent down. Fine.
“As you wish, of course,” she said. “Please show me to my new accommodations.”
And let’s see what Prince Matthew has to say for himself.
*
To her annoyance, Prince Matthew was nowhere in evidence when she arrived at her new apartments. They were somewhat larger than the old suite, with a single master bedroom, a dining room, a study, and servants’ quarters. No servants were in evidence, either. Raesinia tracked down Cora, who had rooms in the next corridor, and did her best to reassure her. Then she went back and settled in to wait for her newly acquired fiancé.
Second Prince Matthew came in sometime after dinner, still smartly dressed but ever so slightly disheveled, his hair delicately mussed and his steps weaving a bit across the tiled floor. He opened the door and grinned, as though Raesinia were a surprise gift.
“Well, then,” he said. “I thought I knew the way back to my room, but the footmen assured me that I was mistaken. This isn’t the apartment I remember, but I can’t say it isn’t an improvement.”
“Hello, Your Highness,” Raesinia said.
“Please.” He came inside and leaned against the door until it closed. “No need for formality. I understand there’s been a change in our relationship since this morning.”
“I have agreed to your father’s proposal that we should be married, yes,” Raesinia said. “I wasn’t expecting him to move us in together. Is that normal in Borel?”
“Not really, no. But Father approaches the breeding of heirs in the same way he approaches the breeding of hounds. Just put the dog and the bitch in the same cage for a while and wait for them to fuck.” He rolled his eyes. “He’s a born romantic.”
Raesinia stared fixedly at the prince. “I have no intention of obliging him. Just so we’re clear. And if you have any other ideas—”
“You wound me,” Matthew said, hand trying for his heart and missing. “I would never take advantage of a helpless woman, much less one like yourself, who I assume is capable of ripping my balls off.”
Raesinia fought a smile. “Let’s hope we don’t have to test that.”
“I shall sleep,” Matthew announced, “on the sofa. I’m sure it is comfortable.”
He walked across the room to the ornate sofa against one wall and flopped onto it facedown, though it wasn’t long enough to accommodate his lanky frame.
After a moment he said, voice muffled, “It is not comfortable.”
Raesinia finally had to smile, just a little. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“You are the soul of courtesy.” Matthew rolled over. “Are you angry with me?”
“No,” Raesinia said, surprised to find that she was not. She had been, before he came in, angry with him and his father and every Borelgai. But something about his exaggerated self-?pity reminded her that he was as much a victim in this as she was. More so. I had a choice, and I got something out of it, even if the terms weren’t to my liking. “I’m angry at your father.”
“Being angry at my father is my stock-in-trade. I recommend it. It’s kept me looking youthful all these years.”
Raesinia smiled a little wider at the joke, which was more relevant than Matthew knew. She said, “Are you angry at me? I feel like you’d have every right to be. I did say I wasn’t going to take your father’s bargain.”
“I suppose I could be, but it seems like a lot of effort.” His expression softened. “And I understand your situation. I heard the word from Vordan.”