“It’s true?” Hex hisses. I try to slip from beneath his arm, but he holds me tight. “Does Elliot know about this?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “It is true, and he knows. Would you stop glaring at Markham? You are drawing too much attention.”
“You are the future Queen of Candora,” Hex all but spits. “You draw the attention on your own, especially if you’re even thinking of tying yourself to this cretin.”
“Hex,” I snap. “Be kind.”
“Not to him.” Hex grits his teeth, sneering at the man in front of me. “Not if he’s daft enough to suggest something so ridiculous.”
“It is not ridiculous!” I argue, though I regret saying anything when Markham’s eyebrows lift. I cannot have him assuming that is an answer to his proposal.
“When?” Hex demands.
By now, most in the room have caught on to my brother’s tension, including Sander, and there are far too many eyes and ears trained on us for me to want to have this conversation. As Sander makes his way across the room, I gesture for Markham to follow, and I pinch Hex’s side to get him to release me so I can walk.
Only when the four of us are alone in the corridor outside the drawing room do I speak again.
“Yes,” I say with exasperation. “Markham proposed to me when we were in Havenford.” Sander’s eyes fly wide, and Hex starts to protest, but I hold up a finger. “No, I have not given him an answer.”
“Why?” Sander asks, his eyes on Markham, and I am not certain who his question is for.
Markham chooses to respond before I can. “Because my campaign has divided the country, and I thought a union would help both sides.”
“You could have chosen not to run in the first place,” Sander says icily.
“I could have,” Markham agrees. “But I firmly believe that Candora needs reform, and I didn’t know for sure where your sister would stand.” He looks at me and dips his head. “I’m sorry, Freya. There was no way to know what you—”
“She’s ‘Your Highness’ to you,” Hex says with another glare.
“I gave him permission to use my name,” I reply, rolling my eyes.
“And Elliot knows?” Sander asks in disbelief. “He’s okay with whatever this is?” He waves a hand between Markham and me.
Elliot and I may not have discussed the matter for long in the coach today, but I can guess his opinion. It likely has not changed from what it was initially. “Elliot does not approve,” I admit.
“Of course he doesn’t,” Hex says. “Not when he’s fall—”
Sander elbows him in the side. “Freya, are you considering it? Saying yes?”
I look at Markham, though a large part of me wants Hex to finish his sentence. “Yes, I am considering.”
The smile Markham gives me in return is soft and should, in theory, bring some sort of peace to my admission, but it makes me nauseous. Markham is a good man. I believe that, even if there is much to learn about him. On paper, he could be the best match I could ever find. He is ambitious and strong-willed, and he has the Candorans’ best interests at heart. No, he does not come from nobility, but that only adds to his appeal after that dinner I endured.
I need to give my regrets to the Duke of Rensvik for disrupting his party and, unfortunately, leaving early, because I cannot go back into that room full of nobles. Markham is right, and I need to decide sooner than later, but to do that I need time to think. Time to talk things through with people I trust.
I should have done this days ago.
Touching my hand to Markham’s arm, I offer a small smile. “I need more time,” I tell him. “But soon. I promise.”
“Of course.”
“Sander, could you make our excuses to the duke?”
Sander meets Hex’s gaze, unenthused by the turn in the conversation, but he nods and slips back into the drawing room.
I take Hex’s arm. “I need some air.”
“I’m not surprised,” he grumbles in reply and leads me outside to the courtyard of Rensvik’s sprawling estate, leaving Markham on his own inside. I hope Markham stays for the duration of the party; he couldbenefit from more time with the noble class, just as I needed more time with the working class.
