I throw my hands in the air in utter exasperation. “I can’t believe we’re still discussing this.”
“So, if Fred doesn’t love the princess, you’re having an arranged marriage?” Francesca asks.
Oh, good grief.
“Yes,” Father says simply.
“You’re saying youwantme to have an arranged marriage?” I ask, sheer panic making my voice squeaky.
Mother shoots me a confused look. “Isn’t that what we’ve been discussing since you sat down?” she asks, as though I’m operating on reduced brain power.
“In that case, why don’t I marry a nice Ledonian aristocrat? Lady Senita comes to mind. She likes horses. I like horses.”
“You can’t marry someone simply because you both like horses,” Francesca scoffs. “We all know Lady Senita’s as quiet as a mouse, and looks like one, too. Stick a pair of whiskers on her and hello, Minnie.” She laughs at her own joke.
“There’s nothing wrong with Lady Senita,” I protest, even though Francesca is spot on. Lady Senita is rather mouse-like, in both personality and appearance.
“She wouldn’t exactly ignite positive royal sentiment,” Mother explains gently. “Darling, that’s the point.”
“Princess Astrid, on the other hand—” Father begins.
“All right, so we all love Princess Astrid,” I say, now utterly defeated by this conversation.
“Not you, it would seem,” Francesca says, and I shoot her a look.
“It would be for the good of the family, son,” Father repeats for what feels like the hundredth time.
I need some air.
I’ve never dramatically exited the breakfast room before, but I need to get out of here before I combust.
I only make it a handful of steps down the hallway before the reality of my situation catches up with me. I take a deep breath and glance up at the portrait beside me. It’s of my great-great-great-grandfather, King Leopold I.
“Don’t stare at me like that. I know you had an arranged marriage.”
King Leopold I does not reply.
The truth is, I’m not opposed to an arranged marriage per se. But Princess Astrid of Elkevik? She’s light and fun and unpredictable and utterly bewitching. I’d clam up around her every time I saw her, and she’d think I was the dullard the press has labeled me all these years.
But perhaps…
As I think of the pretty woman, her shoes kicked off as she danced in the rain, something inside me stirs and as I trudge down the hallway, I find myself listing all the reasons to marry her.
1. She’s a princess, so she’d understand what’s expected of her in Ledonia.
2. She’s much-loved by Elkevik, which is not something I can boast about in my own country. Far from it.
3. The Ledonian people would fall in love with her, which could mean the referendum on us might simply disappear.
I go for a ride on my favorite horse, Juniper, and then spend the rest of the morning mulling it over.
I find myself at my father’s study door. I knock and step inside.
He looks up. “That was a shorter exile than I expected.”
“It wasn’t an exile, Father. Childish, perhaps,” I admit, sinking into a seat. “I needed some time to think.”
He steeples his fingers. “And?”
