Princess of Glass - Jessica Day George [18]
“You wished to see me, Your Majesty?” Waved to a chair, Christian sat up straight and laid his hands on the arms of the chair. His fingers wanted to trace the intricate scrollwork, but he knew that the king also hated fidgeting.
“Indeed I did, Prince Christian. Indeed I did.”
The king sat behind a large desk, both hands flat on the blotter, and studied Christian. Christian smiled politely, and did not twitch or look away. He hadn’t committed any crimes that he was aware of, yet a feeling of guilt took root in him all the same.
“I’m sure your royal father, King Karl, told you of the ulterior motive behind these little state visits,” King Rupert said.
“Er, yes?” Christian wasn’t sure what he was asking. King Rupert couldn’t possibly be crass enough to talk about marriage in this way.
“So, what is your intention toward my daughters?”
Christian choked. Apparently King Rupert really could be that crass.
“Are you planning on marrying Hermione or Emmeline?”
“Um, I’m afraid that I haven’t really… The girls are very young …” Christian felt hot and cold at the same time. If Breton was looking for an alliance through marriage, he didn’t want to cause a war by refusing them outright. Why didn’t Rupert take this up with Christian’s father instead of ambushing him this way?
“After the New Year I believe you’re to go to Analousia?”
“I think so.” Christian fought to regain his composure.
“I don’t want to lose you to Analousia, or Spania,” Rupert said bluntly. “If they turn against us, the way Analousia went after Westfalin a few years back, you’d be forced to side with them. Hmmm.” He stroked his impressive mustache. “Perhaps someone else might do.” He stared into space, apparently forgetting that Christian was still in the room.
Looking at the clock, Christian realized that it was almost time to meet Marianne and Poppy at the Royal Gallery. He took a deep breath and stood, bowing. “If Your Majesty will excuse me? A certain royal duty calls.”
“Yes, yes, go on, Prince Christian.” King Rupert was busily jotting down notes on a piece of paper.
At the gallery, Poppy and Marianne both laughed at his panicked recital of this interview.
“Someone else?” Marianne shook her head. “I am a cousin of the royal family, but I have my cap set for my own someone else, you know.” She blushed, and Christian knew she was thinking of Dickon Thwaite.
“And I’m out of the question,” Poppy joked, taking his arm so that she and Marianne flanked him. “Mother was Rupert’s cousin, but imagine if Father were to turn on Breton! Oh, the scandal!”
“Would your father turn on them?” Christian was only idly curious. With a girl on each arm he was getting a number of envious looks and rather enjoying them.
“Oh, heavens no!” Poppy lowered her voice. “Let’s face it, King Rupert can be horrible, but Father still likes to keep on good terms with him.” She sighed. “Which is why I’m here.”
“Your father sent you, especially?” Christian couldn’t help but think that bold Poppy was an odd choice for ambassador.
“Oh no. I drew Breton out of a hat. Hyacinth, who’s very religious, is the only one who didn’t draw: Father sent her to Analousia to impress them with our piety.”
Christian was fascinated. “You drew lots to see who would go where?”
“No one cared which one they got,” she said with a shrug. “And Lilac and Orchid both wanted to go to Spania. Some famous actor is doing a play there this season. So Father used the hat to make things equal.”
“So the twelve of you—”
“Nine,” she corrected him. “Hyacinth was sent to Analousia, and Lily and Rose are married. Nobody wants a married princess,” she laughed wryly.
“True.” He paused. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
Poppy shook her head.
“It shouldn’t,” Marianne put in. “Any girl with a dowry is told from the day she’s born that she has to marry just the right person for just the right reasons at just the right time.” She grimaced. “All you can hope for is that he’s got teeth. And hair.”
“Oh, don’t be so put upon,” Poppy said. “Your parents would never force you to marry anyone you didn’t like.”
They left