Idris listed out a number of other etiquette lessons: who to curtsy to and when; which titles and styles to use in greetings; which cutlery to use first at meals; when to wear a hat; which doorways and stairwells were to be used, and which were for the servants only; and many others, but Rinka was distracted by the manor house before them. It was enormous; the façade was atleast as large as the central rail-wheeler station in Arcas Dyrne, the largest building Rinka had ever seen.
But unlike the central station, there were no great towers surrounding it. It sat alone, a marvel of tan stone at the end of the looped lane, the rows of windows like dozens of eyes looking out on the landscape. Rinka could not fathom that people actually lived here. That Keir had grown up here, and that all of this would be his one day.
“Are you even listening?” asked Idris. “Don’t tell me you’re taken with this monstrosity. It’s ridiculously large. A monument to human arrogance, an insane overcompensation for being overlooked in high society…you love it, don’t you?”
“It’s wonderful,” said Rinka.
Idris sighed, but she caught a brief smile flash across his face before his features settled on vaguely disapproving once more.
“One final thing for us to discuss before we make our grand entrance,” he said. “Regarding our…courtship.”
Rinka willed the blood to stay out of her cheeks. “Go on,” she said.
“In public, the nobility is still quite traditional regarding etiquette between romantic partners. We must give the appearance of caring for one another without causing a scandal. It’s expected for people who are courting to display small tokens of affection, but there are limits.”
He winked at her, and she wondered just where those limits lie, but she was too afraid to ask.
“All these rules,” said Rinka. “Why do I have the feeling that none of them apply to you?”
“Oh, they all absolutely apply to me,” said Idris. “If the rules don’t apply to you, they aren’t very fun to break, now are they?”
“What exactly is expected of me? In a courtship arrangement,” said Rinka. She tried to affect a casual air.
“Nothing too serious. Just a bit of flirting. Holding hands. An extraordinary amount of dancing—I’ll need to arrange for someone to come teach us the steps. Promenades around the grounds. Perhaps a stolen kiss or two under the moonlight.”
She tried to hide her surprise at the last part, but she was unsuccessful.
He held his hands up in surrender. “If you want, that is. I, for one, don’t see any harm in having a little fun for the summer. Do you?”
For once, her mother’s voice was silent. Perhaps that part of her was too shocked to know what to say.
Rinka considered it. She did find him very handsome. And charming, if a bit arrogant. She admired the sincerity underneath his humor, which she also found enjoyable. And most of all, she enjoyed their games together. Things had been pretty fun so far, mortal peril aside. What was the harm in letting it continue?
And besides, she couldn’t possibly marry a prince. There was no future for them, not even if she’d wanted it. So why not enjoy each other for the summer? She had no real reputation to ruin. No one knew who she was, and once the summer was gone, it was doubtful she’d see anyone but the locals ever again.
“I don’t see any harm in it, no,” said Rinka with a coy smile.
Perhaps he’d expected a bit more of a protest.
“Right,” he said, half choking on the word. “Good. Very good, then. That’s settled.”
“What the matter?” she asked, her tone teasing. “I thought it was a bit of fun.”
He smiled at her, pursing his lips a little. “I did say that, didn’t I? Ah, look.” He pointed to an approaching man coming down the drive dressed in a navy livery coat. “Our welcome party has arrived.”
It wasn’t much of a party. No one’s nose was bleeding, after all, and there was only the one guest from the manor.
The footman took one look at Rinka and Idris’s basic attire and said, “I’m sorry, sir and madam, but the grounds are closed until the festival in two days’ time.”
“Not closed to guests, surely?” asked Idris.
“Sir, the accommodations within the manor have already been reserved for the royal family and their closest companions. There are lodgings available in town for folks of your…persuasion.”
How rude, thought Rinka. “Don’t you know who you’re speaking to?” she asked him.
“I’m sure I do not,” said the footman. “You’ll need to be on your way now—”
“This is your prince,” she said. “Prince Idris of Loegria and Wilderise.”
