8
Monday morning, ourcarriage rattled down the road. Greenwood Abbey shrank behind us. The horses’ hooves clomped outside. I caught snippets of their grumpy thoughts. They were hungry and didn’t appreciate being put to use so soon after their breakfast.
“Cissa...you’re not angry with me, are you?”
I turned my attention to Father across from me, his brows knit. It was the first time we had spoken alone since the night of the ball.
“Not at all,” I said.
He exhaled and ran a hand over his beard. “I didn’t expect for this to happen, truly. But His Majesty proposed the idea of marriage, and your name slipped out. You were the perfect choice.”
“I know.”
“If you don’t want to go through with it, you don’t have to,” Father said earnestly. “Perhaps Crown Prince Bennett convinced His Majesty to withdraw after all.”
I raised a brow. “The crown prince was not pleased with the idea, then?”
Father shook his head. “He wanted to reevaluate the existing witch laws, but King Maximus claimed that was too time-consuming. Marriage is the quickest and most effective way of bringing peace.”
“Do you think that’s true?”
Father shrugged. “It’s an old-fashioned solution, to be sure, but I suppose it’s effective enough. Tension with Aquatia was why His Majesty married Queen Cordelia. As you can see, their two kingdoms have yet to destroy each other,” he said with a rueful smile.
It was odd how a loveless union between two individuals could prevent wars. Politics rarely made sense. It was a wonder so many people went along with it.
“But even if you can’t back away, Cissa, I don’t think you’ll be too miserable,” Father said, patting my hand. “Think of it: Olderea’s first witch princess! That is something to be proud of. Plus, the crown prince is a good man. Accomplished and dutiful.” He waggled his brows. “And handsome too, don’t you think?”
I couldn’t help but smile. It didn’t matter if the crown prince had warts all over his face and was three heads shorter—nothing would change.
The palace pulled into view, and soon enough we were escorted into the king’s study. The room looked much larger in the daylight. Nonetheless, the dark, woodsy furniture and animal skin rugs felt stifling.
“Captain, Narcissa,” King Maximus said as we entered. Crown Prince Bennett gave a stiff bow beside him.
We returned the greeting and took our seats before the king’s desk.
King Maximus clapped his hands together. “No use dragging this on, now is there? I just heard over breakfast that Vandil’s textile trade has gone up in flames. Foreign merchants want witch-woven fabrics instead of the usual from local weavers. There is only one witch-owned fabric shop in Vandil. Can you believe it? One!”
The fabric of Elowyn’s gown was no doubt witch-made. I had never seen anything like it. It was no wonder the merchants wanted their share.
The king pressed his fingers to his temples. “Why did I let that Amarante girl convince me to allow these blazing witches back into the kingdom?”
Father coughed. “With all due respect, sire...”
