Page 30 of Awestruck (Starstruck Love Stories #4)

Freya

If I lose this election, perhaps I will move here to Havenford and live out my days in the simplicity of this place.

Elliot can come with me and forget he ever had any worries, and I will enjoy watching him laugh as he dances in a circle with a group of children and loses a stone throwing competition to a sixty-year-old shepherd named Rand.

We both could be happy here, not as a princess and her bodyguard but as friends.

I could dance with Elliot every night and feel that overwhelming sense of safety he gives me when he holds me. I do not think anything could hurt me if I were in his arms, physically or otherwise.

“I’m losing my touch,” Elliot says breathlessly, coming to where I sat on a low wall to watch him compete with the locals.

His stone sailed across the beach as if it weighed nothing but still landed nearly a meter behind Rand’s.

With bright eyes and flushed cheeks, Elliot looks his age for the first time as he runs a hand through his windswept hair and grins.

Twenty-six. He is so young. “Maybe you should hire Rand to be your bodyguard,” he says and sits next to me, his arm bumping mine in his nearness.

His jest settles heavy in my heart like the stone he just threw, and my smile is forced. For how rough things started between us, I cannot imagine anyone else being at my side. “If I have a need for someone to throw stones, I know where to find him.”

His expression softens. “Don’t worry, Princess. I’m not going anywhere.”

“That is a relief.” My casual tone belies how glad I am for his reassurance, and I fix my eyes on the clouds in the horizon, gilded orange by the setting sun.

Most of the people of Havenford have come down to the beach to enjoy the last of the sun’s rays, but we are on our own here at the sand’s edge. “Thank you, by the way.”

He shifts to better face me, his leg pressing against mine in a way that feels both foreign and familiar. This easy contact between us is new, but after the way he held me when we danced, the connection now seems natural. “For what?”

“For letting me enjoy today.”

Exhaling slowly, he rubs a hand on his thigh as if nervous. “You were right.”

“Likely, yes, but what about?”

That gets a chuckle out of him. “I needed to relax. I got stuck in my head, and I’m no good to you if I can’t even think straight.” When I grin wide, he narrows his eyes. “But I expect you to keep your promise, Rapunzel. I’m in charge from here on out.”

I snicker. “Of course.” I always strive to keep my promises, but I never said I would make it easy for him.

Going forward in my campaign, flexibility and adaptability will be my greatest allies.

Elliot will simply have to plan accordingly because I will not know the best course of action until I am in it. I learned as much in Windgaard.

He growls a bit, his scowl deepening. “Why do I get the feeling you’re plotting against me?”

“Likely because I am.”

“Freya.”

“Elliot.” I lift my chin and grin at him with all the haughtiness I can summon.

He shakes his head, like he has no idea what to do with me. “You’re a pain in the neck, you know that?” And yet he smiles, like he cannot contain his affection for me.

I did not realize how much I would treasure his good opinion, and his expression seems to give me a strength that will never wane.

I rather like the way he is looking at me.

Though Elsa’s words about us being a couple echo in my head, I ignore them and instead tease, “I happen to think I am delightful, and my friends would agree.”

“Your friends, the celebrities.” He rolls his eyes.

“Have you forgotten that one of those celebrities is your cousin?”

“Don’t remind me.” But then his gaze catches on something behind me, and he grows tense, all of his mirth gone in an instant.

Turning, I search for what put him on edge and frown when I find Markham standing a few meters away with a hesitant expression. While I do think it is a good idea to be wary when it comes to Markham Grimstad, my opponent has done nothing to deserve Elliot’s hatred.

“Your Highness,” Markham says, bowing his head. “Could I have a word with you alone?”

“No,” Elliot says at the same time I say, “Of course.”

“Freya,” Elliot growls, “you shouldn’t—”

“The day is not over,” I argue and slip from the wall to walk to Markham’s side, my pace less demure than it should be in case Elliot tries to stop me. I reach Markham unhindered and turn back to Elliot in surprise.

He hasn’t moved from his spot on the wall despite the furious expression on his face. “Stay within sight,” he orders gruffly.

“Of course,” Markham replies, and offers me his arm.

True to his word, he leads me only far enough that Elliot will not be able to hear our conversation, stopping next to one of the stone houses abutting the beach.

My curiosity is nearly unbearable, so I am glad when he starts speaking immediately.

“I’ve been wanting to have this conversation since meeting you in Breckenholt, so I’m grateful you’re willing to hear me out. ”

“Be grateful my bodyguard is in a good mood,” I reply with a wry smile.

Markham returns the smile, though his eyes jump to Elliot with a flash of anxiety behind them. “Yes, well, it only makes sense that he wouldn’t trust me, under the circumstances.”

“The circumstances being that you are trying to usurp my birthright, yes.”

He bites the inside of his lips and seems to fight a laugh. “You don’t like to mince words, do you?”

“I believe a direct approach is always better.”

“In that case, I have a proposal for you.”

I tilt my head as my curiosity builds. While I was not fond of him after our first meeting, Markham has always intrigued me. His passion for Candora far exceeds that of most of his peers, and his ambition and perseverance are admirable. “What sort of proposal?”

“The literal sort.”

His words settle over me like a heavy blanket, muffling the sounds of the surf and people playing games as I process what he just said to me.

The literal sort. That could mean a few things, but it seems as if he is suggesting…

“I am not sure I understand,” I say slowly, as if the sluggishness of my speech might counteract the high velocity at which my brain is rolling through the possibilities.

“Are you trying to say you are proposing—”

“Marriage, yes.” Markham purses his lips together when I gasp. “I know this seems to be coming from nowhere, but—”

“Did you just propose marriage to the future queen of Candora?” Elliot asks, appearing at my side as if he teleported here. His voice is tight. Sharp. Like his expression. He must have read Markham’s lips like he did with me earlier and leapt into action.

“Yes, I believe he did,” I say breathlessly. I am suddenly dizzy, and the crash of waves and shouts of villagers become deafening beneath the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.

I cannot breathe, and I stare at Markham, hoping he will say something to contradict himself.

He does not. “I know it sounds absurd.”

“You’ve got that right,” Elliot growls, placing a steadying hand on my back.

“But give me a chance to explain.”

“Please do,” I mutter, forcing my lungs to fill. “As quickly and succinctly as possible.”

For some reason, Markham seems to find my direction amusing, and his smile does nothing to help the panic slowly rising in my chest. “You and I are opponents, but we both want what’s best for Candora.

At the moment, we are dividing our people when we should be bringing them together.

Candora’s strength has always been in the unity of its people, but right now the classes are more divided than they have been in over a century. You and I could bridge that gap.”

I swallow. “With…marriage?”

Markham nods, more animated now. “With you as the reigning monarch and me at your side as king, we could use our differences to our benefit. Address both sides of each issue. You will have the support of the noble class, and with my common background, the masses who have been left unheard will finally have a voice.”

I hate to admit it, but he makes a good point.

The House of Commons was created for the purpose of benefiting those who are not of the nobility, but any decisions they make go to the House of Lords and the ruling monarch, who ultimately decide the laws of the country.

There have been many attempted reforms that have been overturned by the time they reach the top, in part because the lords and ladies making the decisions have little to no experience with circumstances different from their own and cannot understand why a change may be needed.

If Markham and I were to become a united front, there would be a direct line from the people to the monarchy.

“You’re serious, Grim?” Elliot says, shifting forward. He’s watching Markham warily, his jaw tight. “Is this some convoluted way to get yourself into power without having to rely on votes?”

Calm as ever, Markham speaks to me rather than answering Elliot. “I told you my stance on marriage, and I wouldn’t propose the idea if I didn’t think it would benefit us both, as well as the kingdom. Nor do I expect you to give me an answer tonight. I know this came as a surprise.”

Surprise. As if a marriage proposal is akin to thinking there was one more biscuit in the bag but reaching in to find none. “Markham…” I touch shaking fingers to my forehead and take a deep breath.

“Think about it, Your Highness. And I mean truly give it some thought. If a union doesn’t make sense for you politically, or if you think the people are better off with us as opponents, you can turn me down.

” As if to prove his point, he steps back, putting some space between us.

“Take a few days, but the sooner you decide, the sooner we know how the election will proceed.” With a quick bow of his head, he turns and heads into the village, fading into the shadows as the sun sinks below the horizon.