“And she, mine,” Valentin said under his breath, Robertfalling into step behind him as he strode toward the ornately carved double doors leading from his private apartment.
After the cramped dimensions of his cell, he had not quite grown accustomed again to so much space around him, or so much opulence, though he had known this castle as his home since birth. He’d survived on so little that now, he could not abide too much food placed before himor too many servants hovering around him.
Finally he had banned everyone except Robert whenever he sought refuge in his private apartment, the solitude and quiet he found there much needed amid his newfound duties as the reigning prince of Bratavia. The upcoming coronation and ball afterward were a formality, the full weight of power already firmly upon his shoulders.
The double doors swungopen without him so much as touching a gilded handle, the pair of armed guards standing outside hearing his footsteps approaching and springing into action. He nodded to them in acknowledgement, something he’d never seen his father do but which he felt he must to maintain a strong connection with his people.
The young men at stiff attention didn’t move a muscle, both of them close to Valentin’sage of twenty-one, which had been how old his father was when he assumed the throne. Already Prince Renaud had been married for several years to his first wife, Annelise, their son and heir apparent who died not long after birth followed a year later by Valentin’s half-sister, Hortense, who was eight years older than him.
Annelise succumbed to a fever not long afterward, and Valentin’s fathertook a second wife within the year, Simone, his mother. She, too, perished from illness, when Valentin was fifteen, but she’d been so loved by his father that he hadn’t sought a third wife. That had left Valentin to contend only with Hortense, his married yet childless half-sister the most insufferable woman he’d ever known.
Just thinking about her made Valentin grimace. He forced himself tothink instead about the imminent meeting with his privy council as he took the steps of the grand staircase two at a time, Robert with his limp trailing behind him. Valentin was nearly to the bottom, too, when the massive crystal chandelier gracing the entrance hall seemed to rattle at the shrill feminine voice echoing from marble floor to ornately stuccoed ceiling.
“Valentin,dearestbrother,wait for me, will you?”
“God help me.” Squaring his shoulders beneath his fitted cutaway coat, Valentin reluctantly slowed his pace on the last few steps, allowing Hortense time to meet him at the bottom of the stairs. He stood well over six feet, but she was an inordinately tall woman, even without the plumed bonnet atop her elaborately styled blond hair. At once she drew herself up to her fullheight and surveyed him from head to foot.
“My, my, Valentin, how handsomely dressed you are today! I’m glad to see it, too, after I had to berate your tailors for clothing you so plainly.”
“At my request, Hortense,” he began, but she pulled a painted fan from her sleeve and snapped it open almost defiantly in front of him.
“Nonsense! You’re our sovereign now, dear brother, and you must comportyourself like one. Decorum, decorum, I always say. There’s a right way and a wrong way for everything. You might have the barber trim that unruly blond hair of yours, though. It’s rather long at the collar—ah, but of course, I didn’t come here to critique you, Valentin. I’m sure you must be rushing off to some important meeting—”
“I am,” he interrupted her, his patience running thin. “Did youhave something on your mind that explains your unexpected visit?”
“Well, of course I do,” she huffed, looking at him askance as if he’d just deeply insulted her. Yet in the next moment she took his arm and pulled him away from the stairs, glancing over her shoulder at Robert. “Must he shadow you so, Valentin? He’s your valet, not your personal guard, am I not correct?”
Ignoring her comment aboutRobert, Valentin attempted to politely disengage his arm, but Hortense held onto him all the more firmly. Her sickly sweet jasmine perfume so permeated the air around them that he had to stifle a sneeze.
“Oh, my, are you taking sick? And here you’ve made such a remarkable recovery since April, filling out so nicely from when I first saw you, all skin and bones—ah, such a dreadful sight.”
“Hortense,enough. The privy council is waiting for me.”
“Yes, you’re a very busy man, I certainly agree, which is all the more reason why you must allow me to lend you a hand in finding a wife.”
For a stunned moment Valentin could only stare at her, he felt so unprepared for what had just tumbled out of her mouth.
A wife? Yet Hortense didn’t seem to notice his astonishment at all, her lightly rougedand powdered face alight with excitement.
“Think of it, Valentin! You’ll have your pick of a bride from the finest families in Europe! I didn’t want to trouble you with all the details these past weeks, but I’ve received letters of inquiry already from the royal houses of Germany, Luxembourg, oh, so many others. A very select few are coming for the coronation, I’m sure you’re aware. You’ll haveyour chance to dance with each of these young ladies at the coronation ball—”
“No!”
Now it was Hortense’s turn to look wholly astonished, her jaw dropped, her cheeks flushed an even deeper red though she quickly recovered herself. Once again, she drew herself to her full height although she still looked up at him, her fan fluttering madly.
“No, dear brother? Surely I misheard you.”
“You didnot. I’ll choose my own bride, if you don’t mind—”
“Oh, but Idomind. Papa asked me himself right before he died to see to this task and I have taken it upon myself as of the utmost importance. Did he not speak to you about it? He told me he was going to do so that very day.”
Yes, his father had spoken to him about finding a suitable bride, Valentin agreed heavily to himself as Hortense’s brightblue eyes began to well with tears.
“I’m crushed, Valentin, truly crushed. To deny me the chance to fulfill one of Papa’s last wishes—oh, how cruel of you! Unspeakably cruel!”
Valentin felt no pity at that moment, thinking to himself that Hortense had no idea at all of cruelty.
Somehow she had managed to endure only house arrest during their uncle’s rule, along with her henpecked drunkard ofa husband, Edward Bertrand, Baron of Toulouse, who had held onto much of his sizeable fortune. There had been so many other pressing matters for Valentin to think about than to question them about it, but he was troubled that they had remained relatively unscathed while others had suffered.
