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BY THE TIME THEO LEFT my chambers in mid-afternoon, we’d managed to broker an agreement I thought I could live with. He was to go to his council and tell them that, in his royal opinion, a wedding would be far too dangerous under the current circumstances. We might as well be painting targets on both our backs, given the massive unrest still brewing in Evrion. And because we knew neither council would be happy, our counter proposal was simply to extend the engagement until things became slightly less volatile.
It seemed as good a plan as anything to me. Of course, I worried our people might see it for the stalling tactic it was, and demand to be given more details. But Theo was already in the process of drafting some executive orders to allow me the full benefit of Talyadian resources as his fiancée.
“I’ll tell them we’re just trying to protect each other,” he said. “That you don’t feel safe and you don’t want our union to be tainted by such unfavorable conditions.”
Actually, I felt safer than I had in a long time. Isolated and lonely, too, but not having throngs of rabid protestors trying to beat down the door of the palace did wonders for my sense of personal comfort. Heartbreak and uneasiness remained a constant daily struggle. But in Talyad, at least I didn’t live consumed by fear.
“Do you think they’ll accept that?” I asked.
Theo smiled wryly. “On the inside? Who knows. But on the outside, they don’t have much choice. At the end of the day, as royals, we wield a tremendous amount of power.”
“But not enough to... to call off the marriage entirely.” I had to stop myself from saying, to choose our own life partners.
He chuckled. “There’s some inherent hypocrisy. We are powerful, but the age-old institutions upon which our reigns are built are even stronger.” His gaze met mine, even and unflinching. “You must try to understand, Princess. You and I are where we are because of the very culture you’re trying to fight. Do you think your parents married solely for love?”
I stared back at him. The reality of my parents’ marriage was something I’d struggled to contemplate since learning of my own engagement. Obviously I wanted to assume they loved each other from the beginning; that was how it always looked in my strange dream-visions. But it was becoming increasingly likelier that my mother and father started out just like Theo and me—practically strangers, unsure about the future.
Except even if that was the case, they had agreed to try and make things work. Unlike us. Or really, unlike me. A pang of equal parts guilt and resentment shot through me.
“That was their decision.” A hint of coldness crept into my tone. He had no right to try and manipulate my feelings. “I reserve the freedom to make my own.”
“That’s more than fair,” Theo conceded, raising his hands. “Bold, but fair. I promise I will help you where I can.”
That promise sounded suspiciously conditional, but I let it slide. We were on the same side right now, and I couldn’t afford to alienate my closest ally.
“Okay. So, to be clear; the engagement is ongoing, but the wedding ceremony will be postponed indefinitely.”
“I’ll say that, but it won’t carry forever. Eventually the council will want us to settle on a date.”
“Right. We can cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“They may bring the bridge to us,” he warned.
I exhaled through my nose, pressing my lips tightly together. “If they do, so be it. Let’s take this a day at a time.”
“As you wish.” Theo took my hand and brushed his lips across the backs of my fingers. I watched him, thinking for the umpteenth time about how much he looked the part of a prince. In some ways, it felt like a shame that we were so ill-suited for each other. Didn’t a man so immersed in elegance and finery deserve the life a storybook would have given him?
Sure. But didn’t I deserve that too? And there was no denying that Theo was not my Prince Charming.
“Thank you,” I told him softly. “I really owe you one.”
“We’ll see about that,” was all he said.
The implications of his parting words swam around in my head as the afternoon inched toward evening. If all went as planned, I’d most likely be hearing about the Talyadian council’s decision before the hour of my birth had passed, and I resigned myself to spending those hours fully occupied by anxiety. Time ticked by slower than it ever had. I paced the room, laid on the bed, sneaked peeks out the window onto the empty gardens sprawled below.
Then a knock sounded at the door. My heart leapt into my throat. I made an effort to regain some semblance of composure as I walked over to the entryway, although my hand trembled on the knob. The guard standing in the hall bowed his head to me.
“Good evening, Princess. I come bearing news from the Talyadian Council.” To his right, squarely in my peripheral vision, I saw Colvin standing quietly at attention. If he had any reaction to the guard’s statement, I didn’t see it.
“Oh? What news?” I lifted my eyebrows, wondering if he could hear my pulse.
“An agreement has been struck,” declared the guard. “The wedding ceremony shall be postponed and rescheduled at your discretion.”
I kept my face like a stone mask. Don’t smile. Don’t laugh. Don’t betray any hint of happiness or relief. “I see. Thank you very much.” I wanted desperately to look at Colvin, to lock eyes with him in that moment, but it was too reckless and impossible.
“Your Royal Highness.” The guard bowed again and stepped back from the threshold. I had no choice but to close the door. Our interaction was over, leaving me to savor the news on my own. As soon as the tsunami of relief hit me, my legs just sort of gave out. I crumpled to the floor, trembling.
“I’m not getting married tonight,” I whispered. A gleeful grin spread across my face. “I’m not getting married!”
The fact remained that Theo and I were still betrothed; this was little more than a bandage on a deep wound. The journey was far from over. But for the first time since I’d touched down on intergalactic soil, it seemed like a victory. Like I had finally gained some ground.
I had no idea what was coming.
