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She switched the subject to archery, and soon they chatted like old friends.

This gathering and dinner were purportedly in their honor, but few of the guests paid them any notice.

They had time to talk and get to know each other all over again.

Kazik made her feel safe. When she told him about her recent baking and candy-making endeavors and disasters, he laughed in all the right places.

“I would love to be your taste-tester. Someday soon, I hope,” he said with a shy glance that made her stomach do flips. “Do you think your father might let me come and visit you? I mean, with chaperones and everything proper.”

Before she could answer, the grand duke called for attention.

At his beckoning, Kazik and Helena returned to his side.

Everything about the ceremony seemed formal, businesslike, and disconnected from her and Kazik.

She felt almost numb while her father accepted the bride price from Prince Kazimierz.

But then Kazik slipped a lovely gold ring on her icy right hand, gently folded his warm hands around her cold ones, then beamed his genuine smile at her.

That, she knew, was a moment she would remember forever.

She couldn’t help smiling back, and a few happy sighs drifted from the audience. Finally, their fathers both signed the betrothal contract, and the impending marriage was toasted by all.

Relief filled her now that the ceremony was over.

She and Kazik together received congratulations from many guests, most of them strangers to her.

A few people patted Kazik’s shoulder or gave them a nod or a slight bow.

Overall, the guests seemed far more interested in the grand duke’s wine and rich food than in congratulating a pair of awkward children, but Helena didn’t mind any lack of attention.

However, while she was thanking the courtiers and smiling until her cheeks hurt, she couldn’t help overhearing the grand duke tell someone, “There’s no problem.

A betrothal contract can be legally dissolved at any time during the first year with only a minor financial penalty.

After that, a legal penalty would be incurred for breach of promise.

You can be sure I won’t let that happen. ”

Disturbed, she looked at Kazik, whose brow furrowed. He leaned close to speak into her ear. “I would marry you today if I had any say.”

“Why must we wait so long?” she whispered between greetings and smiles.

He heaved a quick sigh. “I’ve asked, but my father always speaks for my mother, and recently she is . . . distant. I’m lucky to know about anything my parents think or do, much less why.”

She gave him a faint smile. “Sometimes I feel like a pawn.”

“I hate chess,” he admitted. “It’s too slow. Draughts are so much better. I want action!”

“I would never have guessed.”

He gave her a startled look, then laughed along with her. “Liar. Come here.”

She let him take her hand and followed him into an alcove. Gently turning her to face him, he wrapped her hands in his warm grasp. “I’m thankful we’re betrothed. I won’t let anyone snatch you away from me.” The expression in his brown eyes was gentle yet adamant.

Helena choked up with pure thankfulness, clinging to his large, callused hands. Why he cared for her she hadn’t a clue, but she certainly wouldn’t try to change his mind. “I’m thankful too.” Her voice went all warbly sounding.

They were still gazing earnestly into each other’s eyes when Kazik’s buddies from Plock Castle loomed behind him.

“There you are, Kaz!” Twardo announced, his voice deafening in close quarters. “Czwarty says we’ll be practicing with the tallest yew bows tomorrow. Have you tried to draw one of those things? They’re huge! Like, taller than me.”

Each brawny brother held the hand of a Chelm Castle daughter. The Honorable sisters Kornelia and Malgosia Aleksy both giggled as if they’d just heard a hilarious joke.

“I’m sure we’ll learn some tricks,” Czwarty stated. “The instructors always make things sound more difficult than they are,” he assured Lady Kornelia as if such things mattered to her.

Helena had never cared much for the snooty sisters, but handsome Kornelia did seem to sincerely admire the awkward heir to Plock Castle.

Drawn by noisy conversation, more of their peers gathered around the newly betrothed couple. The boys discussed bows and arrows and swords while the girls begged to hear about wedding plans and were sadly disappointed to hear that none existed yet. Helena soon found herself separated from Kazik.

When pressed by an older girl whose name escaped her, she simply answered, “Our parents are planning everything. We’re both happy.”

“Of course, you are.” The stranger spoke sweetly but subtly rolled her eyes. “Who wouldn’t be happy to marry the grand duchess’s heir? Money and power!”

“Don’t you mean the grand duke?” Helena inquired.

The girl faked a laugh. “Madame Euzebia brought the money, the power, and this castle into the grand duke’s grasp. Without her, he had a title and not much else.”

“I guess she really wanted the title.” Someone spoke from behind Helena.

“Why didn’t the archduke come to his grandson’s betrothal?” another girl asked. “Has there been a family split?”

“Not as far as I know.” Helena tried to sound confident around these noblemen’s daughters. She couldn’t keep track of every speaker, let alone respond adequately.

“She’ll wear silks and furs and jewels all the time,” a girl sighed. “Sounds like happiness to me!”

“I do like pretty clothes,” Helena admitted, “and furs are a blessing in winter, but I’ve never really seen the use of jewels. I would rather have a good horse.” Her comment dropped into a still moment, and, to her chagrin, everyone nearby overheard her claim.

Most of the girls laughed or groaned, but before Helena could explain her preference, a handsome young man she didn’t know slipped between two giggling girls, tucked his arms around their waists, and inserted himself into the conversation.

“A princess needs a fiery stallion to ride, not a fat little palfrey. Am I right, Your Highness?” He turned his bold gaze upon Helena while several boys who had followed him into the alcove laughed and began to suggest other types of horses a princess should own.

Realizing she was the princess they were speaking of, Helena firmly stated, “I value kindness, intelligence, and endurance over flashy beauty.”

After a startled silence she heard a snicker from a young lady, then a snort from the handsome young man. Soon everyone seemed to be laughing at her statement.

Did I somehow misunderstand his question?

Confused and feeling foolish, she added, “In a horse, I mean. But in people, too.”

Then Kazik appeared at her side, drew her close, and said, “Thank you all for joining our celebration. Princess Helena and I have more guests to greet this evening, so we’ll be moving on. We hope you enjoy the celebration of our betrothal.”

He spoke firmly, and the surrounding young nobles withdrew. Even the brash one, who towered over Kazik, appeared cowed and ashamed. Helena nodded to the group at large, imitating Madame Euzebia’s regal dignity. A moment later, they had left their supposed peers behind.

“You’re amazing,” Kazik said for her ears only. “I could never have remained so composed.”

“Did they . . .” She wasn’t sure what to ask.

“Go ahead.”

His tone made her feel safe. “Did they intend to be rude?”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Sadly, I’m sure several of them did, but you put them in their place.”

“I did? How? I mean, did I offend them somehow?”

“No. I would guess they’re jealous.”

“Jealous of what?”

“Of our happiness.” He rested his gloved hand over hers on his arm.

“Oh.” That made her smile, and the tension eased. “Then I feel sorry for them.”

“I doubt any of them are as happy as we are.” He gave her a quick glance. “That is, I hope you’re happy. I sure am.”

Warmth flowed into her heart, and she deeply appreciated his sincere kindness. Daring a sidelong glance, she gave his hand a little squeeze. “I am very happy.”