It’s nearly impossible to look at Freya through a professional lens at this point, so I need all the luck I can get. I need to get her through thiscampaign so she can win the election—preferably sans Grimstad as her husband—and then I can work on getting over these feelings that keep growing. By law, Freya and I can never be anything but friends, and that’s going to have to be enough.
Otherwise, someone else is going to have to look after her, and I’m not sure that’s something I can allow.
Chapter Twenty-One
Freya
Spendingsomuchtimearound regular Candoran people has made it difficult to mingle with nobility when I am at my best. Currently, when I am worried about Elliot and whatever it was that pulled him away, I am finding it nearly impossible to tolerate the sheer snobbery in front of me, and my patience is almost at an end.
Which is unfortunate, considering I have endured less than an hour of this dinner party and still have many to go unless I wish to anger my mother more than I already have.
The idea is more tempting than it should be.
“Your Highness,” the Duke of Rensvik says, his voice dripping with arrogance. “I am sure your meals have been lacking the last several days, so you can imagine how glad I am that you deigned to joinus this evening.”
By my count, this is the fourth time he has said something to this effect, and my answer has been the same each time. “On the contrary, Your Grace. I have enjoyed some of the best meals of my life while on this journey. Though, I will say this venison is delicious.” The last time the duke brought up his “superior” offerings, I mentioned the crowberry sauce on the duck. Before that was the trout. With my luck, he will keep asking until I have complimented everything on the table.
The food truly is delicious, but the company has left much to be desired.
Most of it, anyway. My brothers have made the evening tolerable thus far by sharing withering looks with me whenever someone says something particularly arrogant or insulting, and as neither of them gives a fig about maintaining a solid relationship with any of the lords and ladies in attendance, they have uttered quite a few underhanded comments that have made me smile.
The brightest spot of the evening has, to my surprise, been the presence of Markham Grimstad.
When we arrived at the duke’s estate, I was shocked beyond belief to see Markham standing alone in a corner of the drawing room. I only had time to ask him why he was here and get his response—“I was surprised to get an invitation, but His Grace insisted I come.”—before I was pulled away into other conversations, but something about seeing him across the table from me has given me strength to endure the party thus far.
True, he is too far at the end of the table for me to speak to him during dinner without being incredibly rude to the other guests, but his presence is strangely calming.
Rensvik harrumphs and turns his conversation to the viscount sitting across from him, leaving me temporarily on my own. I would have liked to sit in the middle of the table, where I could engage more people in conversation, but I am certain the duke wanted to showcase the fact that the future queen attended his party when I missed so many other events.
I make eye contact with Markham at the foot of the table, and he smiles as he lifts his drink to me in a toast. As far as I can tell, no one has bothered to speak to him beyond basic niceties, but he does not seem to mind. In fact, he has looked rather amused all evening as he listens to the inane conversations happening around him. I wonder what he would say about it all if I were close enough to listen.
I know myownthoughts. The nobility used to care more about the people under their responsibility, and now they act as if they are important simply because of what they were born to, not because of their actions as leaders. How did we fall so far behind the rest of the modern world that power is only held by the wealthy?
As I look at the people who for most of my adult life have been my only contacts outside of foreign dignitaries and my small group of friends, I see nothing in them that connects me to them. Nothing but privilege that is not always deserved. It is a strange thought, to feel as though I am not one of them. Queen or not, I will always be their peer, trapped in an aristocratic lifestyle that has failed to change alongside the rest of the world.
Glancing at Markham again, I finally consider what would happen if I accepted his proposal. Instead of perpetuating the separation of the classes, we would be building a historic bridge. Members of the nobility have married outside their social class, but never has an Alverra ignored tradition.
Markham said I would become the reigning queen with him as a lesser king at my side, which is the only acceptable solution. Were he to keep his name on the ballot and be voted in as the ruling monarch, he would have a good deal more power than me, and I would be little more than an advisor. Surely he would prefer that option to the reverse, but when he proposed, he spoke of me as the true queen. So, he either becomes king at my side and influences change through me, or he becomes king by vote, andeverythingchanges under his solitary rule.
Regardless of my choice, his chances of the throne are great. But not guaranteed.
Elliot asked him if his proposal was a way to easily win, and at the time he was the more popular choice. As sentiments have begun to change, will he still keep the offer open? I do not know him enough to know what his true desire is. I believe him when he says he wants what is best for Candora, but what is best for Markham Grimstad?
What is best forme?
If I decline his proposal, he might win the election, and I would be left with nothing. If I accept, the people will have no alternative on the ballot, and I cannot see them voting against me when Markham would be at my side.
Accepting his hand would almost certainly secure my position.
“What say you, Princess Freya?” Rensvik’s booming voice pulls my attention back to my end of the table.
Elliot is not here to whisper in my ear what the duke has been talking about like he did in the session of Lords, and my stomach twists. Outside of traveling, I have not gone without my bodyguard for more than a few minutes all week, and I feel his absence more than ever in this moment. “Forgive me,” I say curtly. “I wasn’t listening.”
Though he falters, Rensvik is quick to say, “I was commenting on this year’s Royal Equestrian Festival.”
Of course he was. It is an event that only members of the nobility can attend and is something I have long thought was a waste of money and resources. I love our equestrian roots and our slower way of life, but owning horses is becoming more and more uncommon and impractical, particularly in the cities where the majority of Candorans live. Even here in Skalridge, a city with no vehicles, most people are on foot.
“Ah,” I say, sitting up straighter. “I’m afraid I’ve been distracted this evening, and my thoughts were on the needs of our people. Did you know only one in ten families even owns a horse? Those festival fundswould be better utilized within public transportation rather than for the aristocracy’s amusement.”
