Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “You must have swept them into the bowl with the rest of the cherries and not noticed. Can you girls go tell Bethany that I need her help to prepare supper?”
Kayla stormed out of the kitchen. I exchanged a glance with Mistress Hervor and followed. We found Bethany outside, under the apple tree, her infant son in her arms. I smiled. Like cooking, dealing with small children was one of those things no one ever entrusted to a princess. Holding Walton was a treat for me.
Bethany took one look at her sister and laughed. “I take it I’m not adding pie to the menu tonight? What did you do this time?”
Kayla crossed her arms.
Bethany looked at me. “What did she do?”
I pressed my lips together. I was sure Bethany would find out soon enough, but I didn’t want to be the one to tell her. Especially not with Kayla right there glaring at us both.
Bethany was unfazed by her sister’s attitude. She held Walton out in my direction. “I’ll let you hold him if you tell me.”
“Just tell her already,” Kayla snapped, heading back inside. “You know you want to hold the baby.”
I still hesitated.
Bethany handed Walton to me. “That bad, huh?”
“She included the pits in with the filling.”
“Mother will want my help to make a different dessert then. Are you fine watching Walton while I take care of that?”
“Of course. You know I love getting to hold him.”
“The way you look at him, I doubt it will be long before you have a babe of your own.”
I almost choked. I knew having a child would be an expectation down the line, but I couldn’t think past my marriage. That requirement had always loomed so large in my life that it was hard to think about what would happen after I married. Even if that time was fast approaching. “Aren’t you forgetting a few steps, Bethany?”
She laughed again. “Minor details.”
I snorted. “Based on how much Kayla debates the merits of her various swains, you should know better than to believe they are minor details.”
“Based on how much you blush when anyone asks your opinion of those same men, I think you already have a beau back home.”
“I don’t.” I looked down into Walton's bright blue eyes. In a few months, I’d be engaged. Married not too long after that. But most likely I hadn’t even met the man who would become my consort. I didn’t look away from the infant when I added, “I’ve never even come close to having a suitor.”
“That can’t be right. Are the men in Haiwella idiots?”
I shifted Walton from my right to left arm. I shook my head, but didn’t answer. Luckily Bethany didn’t push, going inside a moment later to help her mother and leaving me with the baby.
I couldn’t explain it to her. She thought I was the daughter of a successful city merchant. She wouldn’t understand that most of the men I socialized with were nobles who knew I’d never marry among their class. Even if I fell in love, I couldn’t. Not without forfeiting my place as the heir.
Knowing that, none of the noblemen had made an effort to woo me. From one angle, it was depressing that none of them saw anymerit in courting me with the chance of becoming my consort permanently off limits. I preferred to view the situation from a different angle, however. I had escaped the humiliation of men pretending to admire me when their only interest was the crown, not me.
It also meant that my lovers had always understood exactly what I could and could not offer them. Not that there were many of those, either.
That would change at the ball. The men invited to that event would know that I had to pick a husband from someone of their class. Flattery, lies, and manipulation were a given at that point. I had no intention of falling in love, though. I planned to avoid the flirts and look for someone honest and dependable.
If all else failed, there were a few men I had met over the years that I could see myself marrying. None who had felt like the perfect fit, though. The ones who appealed the most to me were also the ones who least wanted to become a prince-consort. My favorite of the bunch, a wanderer named Jacob, would hate the constraints such a title would place on him. His ability to recognize that a high rank did not equal freedom was part of why I got along with him.
We were friends, which is why I’d never even ask Jacob to be my consort—he’d feel bad if he refused me and be miserable if he ended up trapped in the life of a royal. At this point, my best option was probably Sam. He’d do well at court.
I looked down at the baby in my arms and sighed. Sam might do well as the prince-consort, but if we married, it would be in name only. Even after only a week, our relationship was too much that of siblings. Even if it wasn’t, Sam was more likely to lust after my brother than me.
Walton began to fuss, and I forgot about my impending marriage as I tried to bounce him back into a cheerful mood. Bethany returned to the courtyard and lifted him from my tired arms. “Time for his next meal. Thank you, Mina.” She nodded back toward the inn. “Your pie is done.”
I returned to the kitchen. The pies sat on the windowsill, cooling. I laughed when I saw them. Kayla’s looked even more perfect than it had going into the oven. The golden-brown crust only emphasized the exquisite artistry of the pie. Mine, on the other hand, had leaked further. The top crust had split away from the bottom partially where I hadn’t pinched the halves together well. Filling leaked out of the gap, dripping down the pan.
