Elizabeth leaned forward on her cane. “Will you still be invited to fancy balls once you’re a Royal Guard?”
“No.”
Technically, Kuni wasn’t invited now. But even if attendants weren’t announced by name, Kuni was part of the royal retinue. As long as she held that status, no door would be closed to her.
Through the window, the center of London drew ever closer. The carriage rolled over a bump and she shifted in her seat.
Elizabeth’s green eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Will you miss all that merrymaking?”
“I shall not have time to,” Kuni answered. “Royal Guards hold their positions for twelve hours a day.”
This wasn’t entirely true. Standing stiffly beside a gate or a doorway during ceremonial events gave one nothingbuttime to think about all the things one wasn’t doing.
But Kuni would be glad to be done with frivolous nonsense. As a Royal Guard, she would fulfill an important role, on and off the battlefield, not fritter her time away with silly dances.
“Royal Guards begin training in young adulthood and take posts for life, or until physically unable to maintain the role.”
“Are companion positions supposed to be for life, as well?”
“No, the post only exists for as long as the princess requires companions.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean? She could wake up one day and decide to be rid of you?”
“It means it is not up to her. Not really. When she marries—her future husband to be determined by the king, unless Princess Mechtilda has her way—Her Highness will become mistress of a new household and must leave the old one behind.”
“You mean, ‘leave the old one unemployed’?” Elizabeth asked, her tone caustic.
Kuni nodded. “Princesses’ companions begin work when they are about eight years old. We’re all within a year or two of the princess’s age.”
“How old is Princess Mechtilda?”
“Twenty-four. One year younger than me. It is unusual for a Balcovian princess to remain unwed for so long, but she is the youngest of several sisters, the others of whom have already been married off to form strategic alliances. The king has his eye on the Duke of Cambridge for his final daughter. It is the reason for the family’s upcoming visit.”
“Prinny’s brother?” Elizabeth said in surprise. “I fear it’s too late. Graham says the duke is rumored to be courting Princess Augusta of Hesse-Kassel.”
“That is because His Grace has yet to meet Princess Mechtilda.” Kuni stretched her feet out before her. “It has long been an open secret that Her Highness is hoping to fall in love. Not strategically, but passionately. If not with His Grace, then with someone else. She has threatened to follow her heart, no matter where it leads.”
“Graham adores all the intrigue with the royal dukes and their paramours. He has entire journals of howhewishes the royalty of England and Europe would unite. When we were younger, he had Marjorie paint little portraits of his favorite imaginary pairs.” Elizabeth waggled her brows. “AlwaysGrahambeside all the young, pretty princesses, of course.”
Of course. Kuni smoothed her jagged nails.
“Later, when the Duke of Clarence left his long-term mistress to hunt for a proper heiress, it was all we could do to stop Graham from penning a long letter full of unsolicited advice on whom to wed.”
“Didyou convince him not to?”
“Probably not,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Whatever you do, don’t tell him Princess Mechtilda dreams of a love match. Graham will be waiting for her on the dock with an armful of posies.”
Kuni did not laugh. The unbidden image caused her insides to roil uncomfortably. She did not wish to examine the reasons why.
She did not believe in such flowery stuff as “love at first sight” or “tumbling head over heels.” She followed her ancestors, not her emotions. When she was ready for a husband, she would choose a mate with the same care and calculation as the years she’d spent training to be a Royal Guardswoman. It would happen on her terms or not at all.
Elizabeth sobered. “If the princess does marry soon, that means you have a matter of months before you never see her again.”
“Not as a companion. But I will be a Royal Guardswoman in the highest infantry unit in Balcovia. Princess Mechtilda and I made a pact years ago. She will request the king assign me as her personal Royal Guard.”
Marjorie frowned. “Even if she marries an English prince?”
“Then she will request it of her husband.”
