I take a long draw from my beer. “I know, Father. It’s just...” I rake a hand through my hair again before turning to face him. “You and Mother are as much to blame here.”
“Are we?”
“Sure. I want what you two have. I want a wifewho will be a most excellent queen, of course, but I want the kind of love you and Mother share, too; I don’t want to settle for less.”
My father laughs and puts an arm around my shoulder. “Friedrich, perhaps you do not have the experience to understand this, but your mother and I were not always in love. Sure, there was fondness and affection. But over the years, learning from each other, growing ourselves, ruling a country together, raising children, we found love.”
Found love? What does that even mean?I don’t get the chance to ask as Minister Bertram enters the forward compartment from the briefing room at the back of the plane, where the rest of our staff is preparing for our meeting with the British government.
“Your Majesty. Your Highness.” He bows to each of us in turn.
“Harold.”
“Bertram.”
We chorus in response, inclining our heads toward him.
“There are a few matters we should discuss before we arrive in London.” He opens the folder in his hands and begins rifling through a few pages.
“Have a drink first, Harold.” Father gestures to the bar cart, then returns to his chair and motions for me to do the same.
Bertram pours a measure of scotch and joins us across the table. His folder open in front of him, he folds his hands on top of the table and directs hisintroduction to me. “We should begin with the latest updates in the princess trials, as that is likely the foremost on everyone’s minds.”
This time, I don’t bother to hold back my groan. Bertram is unperturbed as he plows on.
“Do you have your list of twenty yet, sir?”
I return to the bar cart; beer is not going to be enough for this conversation. “Not yet. Still weighing all my options.” I can’t make myself focus on the task of selecting twenty doe-eyed hopefuls just dying to dig their claws into my title. Not when my mind constantly slips to thoughts of Aurelia anytime I start to make lists of the attributes I’m looking for in the remaining women.
“I know what you are thinking,” the king calls from the table. “And I know you are hesitant to make any sort of decision at the moment.”
I down a glass of very expensive bourbon that should have been sipped and enjoyed. It doesn’t even give the satisfaction of a burning throat and warm stomach. “I’m not hesitant, Father. But I don’t know how I can possibly make this decision after a few heavily scripted interactions and one ball. Why don’t you just find me a matchmaker and put me out of my misery?”
“Do try to keep the sarcasm to a minimum this weekend, Friedrich. And you would do well to tamp that disdain a little deeper down for the foreseeable future as you remember what is truly at stake here.”
I pour another measure of the same whiskey andreturn to the table to continue the discussion of my fate and the tangled web it winds around this summit in London. All I really want to do is answer the delightfully filthy text Aurelia just sent me, but for Father, I’ll hear out the Prime Minister on this.
Miles has prepared for my return by reserving a table for us at a pool hall outside the city, because there is only one thing that makes a night of beer and pool better.
A fat cigar hangs from the corner of his mouth. “So how was England?” Miles slurs as he chalks his pool cue.
I blow out a cloud of smoke that rises to mingle with the haze hovering near the ceiling. Father had been instrumental in pushing through the bit of legislation that banned smoking inside public buildings in the capital years ago, but that doesn’t extend outside the city. This dive offers a level of privacy I rarely find in such public places, as if no one expects their crown prince to frequent such a place.
“Cold and dreary. Not to mention the shit weather.” I set my cigar on the edge of the ashtray and walk around the table to line up my next shot. Each stroke of the cue releases more of the pent-up agitation since the plane to London. Each crack of ball striking ball knocks away another layer of unease. “Also, Bertram sneak attacked me with a parliament-approved list often women to help me get started on the selection process.”
“No shit?” Miles sinks a tricky shot and lines himself up perfectly for another. “Well, that brings you one step closer to your arranged marriage plan.”
“Yeah, but I still have to pick ten more and then take them on dates and all that bullshit.”
“Any good ones on their list?”
I shrug noncommittally. Miles has run out of clear angles and instead settles on blocking me.
“Ah, well, at least you managed to make it out without any major political snafus. Take some time this week and look at it with a clear head. I heard Margaret LaFleur is still on the roster.”
I glance up from the shot I’m lining up. “Yeah, she’s on the list Bertram shoved at me on the plane.”
“You arenotallowed to marry Margaret LaFleur.”
