The duke frowns. “You are suggesting we do away with the festival? Alongside the Celestial Ball, it is a favorite event.”
I tilt my head to one side. The entire table has taken an interest in our conversation, and I can either hold my tongue or speak my mind. Mum would have me remain polite and save my debate for the next Parliament meeting.
But I am not my mum.
“So, you don’t think a rail line to Skalridge would be beneficial for the people you have sworn to serve?” I ask coolly. “I wonder how much more your city would thrive with better access to the outside world.”
“The people of Skalridge cherish a simpler way of life,” Rensvik argues.
“The people of Skalridge have no other choice!” My voice rises louder than I meant it to, and while most of the table gawks at me, my brothers and Markham all fight smiles. Markham seems particularly pleased by my outburst.
I have already insulted most sensibilities tonight, so I might as well make it worse. “Mr. Grimstad,” I say, keeping my volume above normal, “you have spent more time among the people than I have. What is your opinion on this?”
“Your Highness,” Rensvik says, “perhaps this is not the place to—”
“Markham, if you will.” I gesture to him.
Markham shifts uncomfortably in his seat, likely unprepared, but from the little I know about him, he will have something to say. He does not disappoint. “For the most part, Candorans do appreciate a slower pace, and one of the reasons people stay within the country is because we have an idyllic way of life, free from modern complexities.”
“There, you see?” the duke says with an air of finality.
“That being said,” Markham continues, “there is a difference between a way of life that’s chosen and one that’s forced. Not everyone values tradition over progress, and we have so many brilliant people in our country who will never have a chance to better the world because they’re stuck in circumstances they can’t change.”
“Brilliantly said,” Hex says, raising his glass as Sander does the same.
Several pairs of eyes turn to me, waiting for my rebuttal. If they are hoping for an argument, they are not going to get it from me.
“Mr. Grimstad and I differ on many things,” I say, “but our people’s desperate need for opportunity is not one of them. If you truly want my opinion on the Equestrian Festival, Your Grace, then you should know that it is a waste of money that could do much good elsewhere, and I recommend it be done away with.”
It seems I have stunned the nobility into silence for the first time in their lives. Good. It is going to happen far more often once I sit on the throne.
But will Markham be at my side when I do?
I wish that were an easier question to answer.
The rest of the dinner passes quietly, with conversations few and far between. It seems no one wishes to start another debate, for which I am grateful, so any talk that breaks the silence keeps to unimportant topics such as the weather or the food. Rensvik spends most of the time glowering at his food and avoiding eye contact with me, and I can only imagine the conversation I will have with my mother as soon as she finds out.
In my defense, I came to the party. I have been here the entire time, and I have interacted with the nobles. Those were her requirements.
When dinner ends and the group adjourns to the drawing room, I am not surprised when Markham comes straight for me.
“Your Highness,” he says with a bow.
I smile. “Freya, please.”
Glancing around the room and finding my bodyguard absent, I am guessing, he returns my smile. “Is that because we’re friends or because you’ve made a decision?”
Instead of the answer he wants to hear, I say, “It is because you are one of three people in this room who do not test my patience.”
He chuckles. “Are you sure about that? Because I do need an answer. Soon. Ideally we could announce our engagement at the debate tomorrow, but if—”
“Announce yourwhat?” Hex asks loudly from just behind me.
I shut my eyes and grimace. I had been doing so well at keeping the proposal a secret from everyone but Elliot. Until now, apparently. “Hex, please do not panic.”
My brother wraps an arm around my shoulders, his hold so tight it is almost painful. “Tell me I heard you wrong, Grim,” he growls. “Or do Sander and I need to have a private word with you? I like your politics, but that doesn’t mean I like the idea of you marrying my sister.”
“Forgive me,” Grimstad says, quietly enough that I open my eyes to see the apology in his eyes. “I assumed you told them.”
