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Shit, what could he possibly want to say that warrants that kind of preface? “Of course.” How could I say no? Literally. A question like that from a man in his position was essentially rhetorical. As much as I would have loved to tell him to fuck off and storm away, I was forced to endure.

“It’s rather refreshing to have an honest to gods conversation with someone who isn’t on my payroll, or here to charm me.”

His quiet confession had me feeling all too constrained. I shouldn’t be in a position to hear him admit something that seemed so human, so…vulnerable.

I couldn’t carry this. Wouldn’t. This man would not make me feel his pathetic emotional burden of being too handsome and too rich. I had to slip off these shackles. “So you’re saying my clumsiness isn’t charming?” Apparently I’d taken a lesson from Melody earlier.

He laughed, and it stirred something within me, something akin to accomplishment and pride. Assuredly for accomplishing my task of averting further sentimental engagement, and nothing more. Strictly because I had succeeded in restoring opportunity for my sisters.

“Nothing is more charming than authenticity, Miss Nora. I appreciate the unrehearsed exchange. And, since I have you and your unbridled observation, tell me, what should I be looking out for in all of these fine women?” He studied the room, offering polite smiles and nods to those who met his stare.

Grateful to have the conversation redirected, I still wasn’t about to do any emotional labor for him. He could use his own damn brain. “Someone suitable for a queen, I guess.”

“And what do you think makes a suitable queen? I have my thoughts on the matter, my advisors another. I’m interested in hearing yours.” He closed in half a step, his broad frame uncomfortably close.

If I believed in the gods, I’d say they placed this perfect opportunity in my lap. Authentic I might be, but not a fool. “I’d say…” I stroked my chin in a pondering, intellectual manner.

He noted the action and crossed his arms with controlled suave, scrunching the features of his all too handsome face, mocking my exaggeration, preparing to take in whatever ancient wisdom I would bestow. The astute attention made my heart flutter for a beat.

“Strength,” I said after a moment of quiet contemplation.

“Strength?” The faintest glimpse of a humorous smile spread slowly across his annoyingly perfect face.

“Yes, Your Highness, strength. Not the kind that comes from defeating enemies on a battlefield.” I nodded toward some guardsmen stationed around the room. “I mean the kind of strength that comes from not living like this.” Taking in the sight of the overflowing wealth it would cost to claim and create this type of space, I reflected on those muddy and starved children in the streets of the market. “A woman who has seen the struggles of the people, most likely even faced them herself, but still finds the will to make life better with what little she’s been given.”

In trying to push the attention toward my sisters, I slipped into a contemplative state and found myself lost as to the point I needed to make. I cleared my throat and shook my head, fighting the pricking sensation that assaulted the bottom of my eyes. “Your future queen should know what it is to mingle among the lowest of her people. That queen will be the one to move mountains to help the less fortunate. The one not afraid to look horrible conditions in the eye and not shy away because it’s unpleasant.” Before my words further sharpened into a spear that I wanted to wound the prince with, I clamped my lips together, forcing them into a pert smile before meeting his stare once again.

What I expected his response to be, I hadn’t been entirely sure, but what he met me with certainly wasn’t it. The playful, teasing demeanor he’d challenged me with had fallen away, leaving behind something almost mournful. A face that beautiful hadn’t seemed capable of the emotion moments ago, and like the pluck of a harps chord, it reverberated through me.

Unsure how to juggle the circulating thoughts in my head, but knowing full well I’d perfectly dampened the mood and opportunity to elevate my sisters in his eyes, I dipped into a curtsy so quickly that a blink could have hidden it. “Apologies, Your Grace. I only mean to say the women from my village may hold more promise than appearances may suggest. Excuse me.” My shoulders didn’t budge an inch, one foot after another stiffly carrying me back to the table.

“What happened?” Kenzie hissed from the side of her mouth, keeping an oh-so-demure posture in case the prince’s attention had lingered on my retreat back to the table.

“I ruined his coat and told him to pick a poor woman to be queen.” Raising a finger in the air at a passing worker, she changed course.

“Yes, Miss?”

“Do you have something I could use to pack up these desserts?”

New conversation filled the room as the next round of women from our village entered.

“Yes, Miss. Right away.” The woman nodded and took off.

“Are we leaving?” Melody leaned over the table to ask, keeping her question low.

“I think it’s best we do,” I answered honestly. Remaining near the prince proved more difficult to navigate than I’d anticipated, and I knew I’d only doom my sisters further if another interaction came along.

“That’s good. Bringing us to his attention, only for us to leave is a tactic of hard-to-get. It will only pique his curiosity. Good decision, Nora,” Melody praised before straightening herself upright again and placed the folded napkin from her lap onto the table.

Surprised that she thought me clever enough to have orchestrated that approach, I felt relieved that they didn’t object to our sudden departure.

15

Nicholas

Asledgehammer to the formally structured idea I’d built to house the search for a queen. That’s what that interaction had been. Nora’s unrestrained, frankly wise beyond her years, opinion regarding the qualities of a good queen offered a new perspective. One I could have missed completely, and the kingdom would only have suffered for it.

A kind woman had been my top quality. Cunning was Ricks’, though he would never phrase it in such a way. He’d say, "a woman who excels at the art of conversation when it comes to politics". But strong hadn’t been something I’d considered. When Nora had elaborated on the type of strength, I realized where it’d come from.