In the rarely deserted Public Library, Prudence and Pauline sipped on tea—coffee for Prudence—while relaxing by the massive windows overlooking the Gardenview Corridor.
"Your father, bless his soul, would have been so proud of Romain." Pauline smacked her lips, savoring her fruity drink.
Prudence enjoyed this room. It was tranquil, with little traffic rushing past, and offered a lovely scenery for a peaceful moment with her mother.
"What were his plans for the country? For us?" She shivered; though getting used to the cold—the walks outside had accustomed her to the bitter breezes—she still disliked it.
Pauline winced. "I am unsure." She set her teacup on its matching saucer and reached for a vanilla macaron. "He wanted peace with Totresia, but he also wanted revenge on Edouard's rudeness. They were never on friendly terms, sadly." She chewed, swallowed, then attempted a small smile. "He would not have let it get to death, though. He was not like that."
Prudence had seen paintings of Gregor. He was the spitting image of Romain, with shorter hair but the same imposing musculature, sparkling green gaze, and harsh features. Pauline had confirmed their similarities in character, too, comparing them often as she grinned, with tears in her eyes.
"If only he had been more careful," said Prudence, unsure of the real circumstances that had pushed her father to voyage into Totresia with her. She hadn't dared to ask, but was confused why he'd pull such a risky move.
"Ah, but Gregor was—"
Pauline's speech cut off when the Library door wrenched open. Both women stood—and Pauline spun to the arrival—and set their hands over their hearts.
At the sight of the King, they dropped into curtsies. Pauline's mint green gown swished and billowed all around her as she rose.
"Romain, how nice of you to join—"
Romain grunted, cutting her off once more. "Thank you, Mother, but I am not here for tea." His gaze found Prudence's. "I am here to escort my sister to her betrothed."
It took every ounce of Prudence's willpower to not grimace.
Betrothed? So he decided?
She was to meet with Cornelius so he could rub it in her face. So he could be certain she knew her destiny was in his hands, and he controlled her. She'd be his wife, forced to sit at his dinner table, lay in his bed, bear him children—
She clenched her teeth and inclined her head towards Pauline. "Mother, if you will excuse me."
Pauline smiled at her. "Duty calls. We will resume our chat later." She sat and picked up the knitting she'd set next to her teacup.
As she approached her brother, Prudence adjusted her décolleté, that had slipped lower than she preferred; she didn't want Cornelius enjoying it.
"Are you sure he wants to see me?"
Romain waved at someone in the corridor. "Of course he does! He waits downstairs for a stroll in the gardens. It is a tad warmer than usual, and he thought some air would do you both some good."
Sarah arrived, dipped into two brief curtsies, then threw a cloak over Prudence's shoulders. "The King had me fetch this for you," she said, placing an oversized hat atop Prudence's curls. She then tightened the coat over Prudence's crimson bodice and fastened it at the collar. "I am to chaperone, so if you need anything, let me know."
Romain took Prudence's arm, waving Sarah out of the way. "Go and warn Cornelius we will be there shortly, would you?" His majestic tone inspired such authority, and to view Sarah shimmying off without a word proved how revered he was.
Prudence, the Princess, slumped at his side, not a single regal thing about her. She felt like the cowering teenager she'd been after running from Torrinni, and she craved to throw a fit and refuse to meet with the man she despised most of all.
"Has Sarah been treating you well?" Romain squeezed her arm. "I was unsure about her at first, as she can be a bit over-the-top."
Prudence stared at the wooden floors, allowing her brother to guide her. "She is good at anticipating needs. I am happy enough with her, thank you."
They glided down the cerulean steps, and once they reached the bottom, he tugged her farther. Prudence resisted the pull, trying to slow their pace.
"Sister?" Romain blinked at her, cocking his head. "Is something the matter?"
"Actually, yes." She was in no hurry to greet the Duke, and had rehearsed her speech most of the previous evening, bracing to confront her brother about her horrid fiancé. "Why Cornelius? Of all the men in the country, what made Father, and later you, choose him?"
Romain opened his mouth, squinted, then snapped his lips shut. He shook his head, then peered ahead as he tightened his grip on her arm and sped up.
"I do not understand," he said at last, taking them towards the Grand Corridor, where they would exit to the gardens. "Is he not handsome enough? Most women in Giroma fawn over him."
Prudence muffled a snort by coughing. "I am not most women." She side-glanced at Romain. "Are you truly unaware of how cruel he was to me in Totresia? Why continue this pretense and make me marry him?"
When they neared the giant glass windows and matching doors, Romain stopped and spun her to him. Sun blared down on the marble balcony outside, and its glistening reflected on his face—which would have otherwise been red with anger.
"Your marriage will bring him to heel." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "He is unpleasant now, yes; but once he is satisfied and thinks he has a more important role, which is what his heart desires, then he will be a good husband to you. I swear it. If he is not, he will risk death." His right eye twitched, but he maintained Prudence's gaze. "You were promised to him at birth, and I will not modify Father's will. Cornelius has wished to fulfill this for many years."
Prudence backed out of his reach. "And you believe him?"
He yanked her to the doors. "I have known him all my life; you, I have known a few months. I love you, and you are my blood, and I will do everything to protect you, but this is happening. You are almost twenty-two, unwed, shamed from your past in Totresia. So like it or not, Cornelius will be your husband. Despite this cruelty you mention, he wants to wed you. Is that not delightful?"
Before she could utter a loud "no," the doors opened, and a blast of glacial air blew over her cheeks, silencing her into acceptance, reminding her Romain had sealed the deal.
The King has spoken.
He'd saved her from Torrinni, brought her home, reunited her with her family, but he would decide her fate. Always and forever.
Not for the last time since she'd arrived, she wondered; had she made the right choice?
Cornelius towered at the top of the steps leading down to the garden. Once he spotted Prudence, he brisked over, a wide smile over his lips as he extended his hand.
"Shall we? Your chaperone awaits us at the beginning of the pathway."
His overly polite tone brought bile to her throat, but Prudence had no alternative.
Marry him, please your brother; or refuse, and embarrass yourself.
"Your Grace," she said, as Romain sent her over to the Duke, who clasped her hand in his and kissed its top. His leather gloves were warm, but his fingertips were stiff and radiating a cold energy she despised. "How thoughtful of you to request this." Sucking her belly in, she flashed him the fakest of smiles as Romain hurried off.
One step at a time, respecting her heeled boots and long train, Cornelius helped her down the stairs.
"You still loathe me, I gather?" He didn't wait for her to react before chuckling. "I do not care about that. Things will change soon. Europe as we know it will evolve."
At the foot of the stairs, Prudence moved her hat to protect her from the sun. "Pardon?" Sarah assisted her, then made herself scarce.
In an oddly familiar gesture, Cornelius pulled her cloak up to graze her chin. Anyone else would have found such a move tender, but Prudence found it encroaching, invasive.
"Have you not heard? They sent Dowager Clémentine away from Torrinni Castle. She now resides in the palace that was once yours." He sneered, and the tip of his nose turned red. As he stepped aside, his coat slipped open to reveal a navy blue suit; not black, as was his usual.
"And how does that change Europe?" She let her elbow stick out so that he could slide his arm around it, and he did so, without grace, heaving her down the walkway.
"Because your beloved Antoine will rule alone. Without her in his business and commanding his reign. I would die to see how he handles it. Left on his own to brood and act on his urges, like his father. Who do you suppose he will murder out of revenge?"
Prudence had to fight every voice in her brain screaming at her to punch him, wring his neck until his eyes bulged out, and yelp "you, you disgusting filth!"
Her cheeks overheated. "You speak rudely, Duke. Mother warned me there are many ears out here. Perhaps you should watch your word choice. And watch yourself."
Did he think delivering such foul comments towards the man she once loved would win her affections?
She peered sideways to witness him widening his all-knowing smirk. "So sharp! I admire that wit, Highness. This is why I declined to marry anyone else."
Prudence sighted Sarah in the distance, and prayed that she was listening to everything.
Go on, spread the rumors, make everyone hate him, make my brother change his mind—
"Oh, and also," he snorted, "funny story. Now that you are gone, Antoine plans to annul his marriage to Adelaide!" He tipped his chin back and let the sun caress his shaven face. "And you are to marry me, how ironic. I wonder if he will try to rescue you, hm? Take you from me? Idiot."
Prudence lost control of her manners and squealed.
Sarah skidded over in a panic, and Cornelius halted his strides as Prudence vaulted towards him, her fingertip pressing into the thick wool over his chest.
"You know nothing of Antoine. He would not try to rescue me because I came here voluntarily! I rejected him." Her breaths grew harsh and her lungs constricted. "Whatever he does is not your concern. I suggest you stay out of Totresian affairs, because it is all your meddling that got you in trouble with Romain in the first place. You should—" she hiccuped, "—I mean, you must..."
She clapped a hand over her mouth as she hiccuped again. Her belly churned, and a sudden pang of pain caused her to immobilize.
"Highness?" Sarah gripped her upper arm. "Are you all right?"
Prudence opened her mouth to resume her yelling, but the instant she parted her lips, a sour taste traveled up her throat and slithered over her tongue.
"Oh... oh, no."
She held her breath; though it had rarely happened to her in her childhood, she knew she was about to throw up.
No, not now!
In all her years, she'd barely ever lost her wits in public or showed herself so physically vulnerable. But today she had no alternative.
On the brink of bursting, she shoved Cornelius aside and lunged over to a nearby bush. Its decaying leaves were thick enough to conceal her vomit as she spewed it out; as she hurled, coughed, hacked, hunched over with her knees hard against the icy walkway.
A hand rubbed her back, and another grasped her fingers and squeezed. She had no idea who was who until, moments later, she came to, wiping her mouth as she blinked away her blurred vision.
"My goodness," said Cornelius, turning out to be the one who had been caressing her back. "You must not get so animated! This is what happens when women overstep their boundaries." He extracted a kerchief from inside his cloak and wiped her upper lip. "You should watch your word choice. If you wanted people to talk... well, now they will."
Sarah shooed him off and seized Prudence's wrist. "Apologies, Your Grace, but I believe Her Highness needs to get inside, to the warmth."
Prudence didn't deny her lady's grip. Her limbs were coated in cold sweat and overtaken by shudders as she allowed Sarah to hustle her back into the castle.
Though she felt empty and disgusted with herself, she nearly jumped for joy—she'd rid herself of Cornelius for the day.
Would she have to feign sickness for their entire marriage? That thought alone helped her stomach settle as Sarah dragged her off.
I would do anything to avoid laying with the likes of him.
•••