“You know what my mother is like,” I say, shaking my head. “Whether she approves of the idea or thinks it laughable, she would try to make the decision for me.”
“You’ve gotten pretty good at making your own decisions, Freya.” He purses his lips. “Have you made one about this?”
My chest tightens, and I cannot bear to look at him. It is difficult enough to accept that I am not allowed to feel something for Elliot; considering a lifetime commitment to a man I hardly know is even worse. I never planned for love in my life—it was something I would unlikely find as a future queen. Hoped for it? Yes. My parents’ marriage was strategic, a princess and the son of an earl, but they were fortunate to forge a love together over time. I assumed my life would follow a similar trajectory.
But a union with Markham—strategic though it may be—carries a good deal of risk. He is not noble, so our marriage would be a stark shift from tradition. He is my political opponent, and choosing to align with him might be seen as weakness. While I may come to respect him, could I learn to love him? There is no way to know.
“No,” I say, answering Elliot’s question as I look up at him again. “No, I have not decided.”
“You’re running out of time,” he reminds me.
“I am aware.”
“Do you…” He grimaces. “Do you want to talk it through?”
The tightness in my chest grows more painful. “With you?”
He shrugs. “I’m the only one here.”
Despite desperately wanting someone to help me figure out my best options, this is not a conversation I can have with Elliot Reid. “I am surprised you are here,” I say to change the topic. I scoot forward in my seat, as if being closer might convince him to give me an honest response. “One of my brothers could have sat with me like they have all week.”
He sits up, squirming a bit as he maintains a professional distance between us. “I thought I could give them a break.”
“From me?” I snort a laugh. “How flattering.”
Smiling, he shakes his head and seems to relax again. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“I’m giving them a break from me.”
“Oh?”
He chuckles. “Turns out talking to you unlocked something in me, and since I’ve been keeping a professional distance from you, they’re the next best thing for conversation.” Twisting his lips, he tilts his head to the side and lifts his eyebrows, looking so expressive that I cannot help but smile. “For the record, I definitely prefer talking to you, Rapunzel.”
He has not called me that in days, and the nickname feels like an embrace. “I’ve missed talking to you too,” I whisper.
The space between us warms, quiet and comfortable. I have spent more time than normal speaking with my friends in California over text and video calls these last few days, but more than ever I have wanted to talk to the man sitting across from me. He unlocked something in me aswell, and I have never felt that my friends would understand my fears of taking the throne. They are all so confident in their spheres and know exactly who they are.
Elliot, for all his skills and talents, was so afraid of making a mistake and getting me hurt that he started to fall apart by the time we reached Havenford. I can imagine no man more qualified than he is, and he still feared to fail.
If anyone can understand me, he can, and I hate that he has kept his distance. But we both know the limits of our relationship, and it is dangerous to be close to him.
“You should probably stop looking at me like that,” he murmurs in a voice so low it is almost a growl.
Shivering, I refuse to look away, if only to have some control over this thing between us, whatever it is. “I am to be a queen, and I will look at you however I would like.”
Though he shakes his head, his eyes twinkle with amusement. “You’re trouble.”
“Perhaps that is why Markham thought to run against me.”
“He’s running against you because he doesn’t know you,” Elliot argues. “If he knew the woman I know, he’d back down in an instant.”
Blushing, I clasp my hands in my lap as I ask, “And who is the woman you know?” I am playing with fire, asking this question, but I need to know.
Exhaling slowly, Elliot leans forward once more. There is not as much space in the coach as in the town car, so as he rests his elbows on his knees, our faces are only a foot apart. “She’s bold,” he says to his hands, linked together a few inches away from my knees. “Confident. She thinks of everyone’s needs but her own and is intelligent and clever, and every time she finds a new way to connect to her people, I am left more and more in awe of her.” His eyes lift to meet mine, a fire burning in their browndepths. “She’s going to be an amazing queen, and I’m going to stand by her proudly.”
Vitte. I should not have asked, and I cannot stop from reaching out and putting my hand over his in gratitude.
