The Prince’s Heart

13. Chapter 13

Chapter thirteen

Tag and I agree to only see each other a few times over the coming two weeks, and only during the day or in the evenings, never at night. When in public together, we’re careful not to show too much affection for each other. I decide that if anyone asks, I’ll tell them that I promised Riella I would introduce Tag to the court. Fortunately, either nobody notices the brief looks and quiet smiles Tag and I give each other, or they don’t care.

Still, it grates on me that I can’t openly be with Tag like I want to be. Of course, that’s mostly because I like being around him, but it’s also because I know that if I do end up marrying Arbois, I won’t be able to be around him at all. Unless Arbois is okay with me having a lover, which I sincerely doubt. Part of me resents the fact that I have to spend what could be my last unmarried days away from the one person who’s managed to make me feel like love, real love, is a possibility, even though I know it’s not Arbois’s fault.

For the first day or two after Tag and I decide to keep apart, I debate with myself about whether to keep my distance from my new suitor, or to suck it up and try to spend time with him. On the one hand, I want to figure out why Arbois came here so early in the process, rather than just sending some Jirenian official to negotiate on his behalf. But on the other hand … the more time Arbois and I spend together, the more likely he is to take my polite attention as actual interest, and I don’t want him to stick around thinking I’m keen to court him. Plus, I’m afraid if I let myself get closer to him, I’ll start to feel guilty, and then it will be harder for me to send him away empty-handed. If I keep him at a distance, I can avoid the pain that might result in either of us getting too attached to the other.

This is what I do—until the third day when curiosity wins me over and I send a messenger to Arbois’s rooms, inviting him to tour Cedelia with me on horseback, with a few city guards accompanying us. After all, Samis is right . If I can find out what Arbois wants, maybe I can convince him to leave before a marriage treaty is signed. Breaking Arbois’s heart is a risk I’m going to have to take. If it means I get to be with Tag in the end, then I’m willing to accept the guilt.

I figure Arbois and I can talk as we ride, and maybe he’ll open up about himself. If I’m lucky, he’ll even give me some hint as to what it is that he’s looking for.

But to my dismay, although the weather is pleasant and Arbois is perfectly polite as we ride around the city, he’s also distant. He seems happy to hear me talk about myself or Cedelia, but every time I try to bring the conversation around to him, he deflects, as though this is simply a business transaction to him rather than the prelude to a life together. Which I suppose it is, in a way. Occasionally, when he comments on the size of Cedelia or the grandeur of its buildings or something like that, he’ll let a hint of arrogance bleed into his words, but no more than what I would expect from someone in his position, and with no detail that suggests why he’s here or what he wants. I suppose it’s not too surprising—Jirenians aren’t exactly known for being the most forthright people, and, so far, Arbois seems no exception—but it is a bit annoying. Still, it’s only our second time meeting each other, so I comfort myself by thinking that maybe he’s just nervous.

Yet, our second and third dates—a concert put on by the palace orchestra and a lunch with the Jirenian ambassador and her staff, respectively—don’t go much better. If you can call them dates.

“It’s like he doesn’t even have a personality,” I vent to Ivy the day after the third ‘date,’ stretched out on a sofa in her chambers while she sits in a chair nearby, sharpening one of her knives. “Seriously, isn’t the point of this for us to get to know each other? I mean, if we were going to end up spending the rest of our lives together, I’d at least want to get an idea of what he’s like before we get married. Am I crazy?”

She visibly struggles not to roll her eyes. Even though he’s only been here for a week, this isn’t the first time I’ve complained to her about Arbois, and I doubt it will be the last. “You’re not crazy, Darien,” she says, in a tone that says the exact opposite. “But come on, the answer is staring you in the face. Isn’t it obvious?”

I just shake my head, and she frowns disapprovingly.

“All the times you’ve seen him so far, you’ve been surrounded by other people. Does it really surprise you that he’s not willing to tell you all about his hopes and dreams when he doesn’t have privacy? You need to do something one-on-one, with just the two of you. I bet if you do that, he’ll be much more willing to talk.”

I was afraid she’d say that . “You’re right. I just….” I trail off.

“What is it?” she finally asks. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know, and I love you for it. It’s just that …” I pause, trying to figure out how to say what I’m feeling without giving away too much. Despite what she said, I can’t tell her everything , so I just say, “You’re right, I need to get him alone. I just feel like at least if there are other people around, I can pretend he’s visiting for some other reason, and I’m showing him around the court or whatever. But if it’s only me and him, then it would all feel more … real, somehow, like I’m giving in to Father and accepting the fact that we’re going to get married.”

“Darien, look at me.”

I do as she requests. Her gaze is sympathetic, but there’s a steel in her eyes that’s as hard as the knife she’s sharpening. “I understand how you’re feeling, and I get why you’re upset. But if you want to get rid of him, you need to figure out what he wants and give it to him.”

“You sound like Samis,” I grumble.

“There are worse people to sound like.” She reaches over and pats me gently on the arm. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to go train with Earon. So, unless you’d like to join me…?”

That’s all the excuse I need to get going, so I leave her chambers with a quick goodbye, planning to head back to my room to review petitions and figure out how to get Arbois to divulge his secrets.

But before I can get more than a few steps away from Ivy’s rooms, a thought comes to me, and I come to a stop in the middle of the hallway. She’s right—I need to figure out what Arbois wants, and it’s clear he’s not willing to tell me. But maybe… .

I stand there, barely aware of my surroundings, as an idea forms in my mind. Just like that, I shake my head and start walking again, in the direction of the rooms that Arbois is occupying while he’s in the palace. I walk with purpose, not because I’m sure of myself, but because if I slow down, I might realize what a terrible idea this is.

I let out a sigh of relief as I approach the door to Arbois’s antechamber. The door is closed—which is good, considering what I’m about to do—but I can hear people talking inside, two of them. Perfect .

I inch ever closer to the door, but I can’t quite make out what they’re saying, so with a brief look around to make sure no one can see me, I quietly move until my ear is pressed against the rough wood.

Now the voices are clear. “… be patient, Your Grace,” one of them says. It’s not Arbois; whoever it is, their voice is deep and rumbling, like distant thunder. “It may take a while, but there’s no reason to expect that your strategy will prove to be unsuccessful.”

“As I’ve told you several times before, time is of the essence.” That voice definitely belongs to Arbois. The note of politeness I’m used to hearing from him is gone, replaced a distinct hint of disdain, but I’m still certain it’s him. “Every minute—every second —of delay increases the danger I face. The longer it takes, the more likely it is she’ll find out what I’m doing and try to stop me. Lest you forget, that would be just as disastrous for you as it would be for me.”

Someone’s trying to stop him from marrying me ? Why ? Or is he talking about something else ? I press my ear even harder against the door. I can hear Arbois and the other person slightly clearer, but it doesn’t help me understand what they’re talking about any better. “If it were in my power to make things go faster, I would do so, Your Grace,” the other voice intones. “But even so, I have no doubt that everything will go as planned.”

“I hope you’re right, for your sake as well as mine. I have not come this far to fail now. Understood?” There’s a pause, then Arbois continues with, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to be about.”

Footsteps sound like they’re approaching the door, so I jump back. I only have a second or two to compose myself before the door opens and Arbois steps out, his mouth turned down into a grim expression. Does he know I was listening ?

But when he sees me, his eyes light up. “Darien!” he exclaims, any traces of the disdain I heard earlier gone. “What an unexpected surprise! To what do I owe the honor?”

I try harder than I ever have in my life to put an innocent smile on my face. “Your timing is excellent, Arbois. I was just passing by, and I just…” I rack my brain frantically, trying to think of an excuse for why I’m here that won’t make him suspicious. “I thought I would ask if you wanted to come to dine with me tonight. Just the two of us, I mean.”

He looks at me for a few eternity-long seconds, then claps his hands together and says, “That sounds like a wonderful idea! I’d be happy to join you.”

My knees go weak with relief. He believes me, then. “Excellent. Shall we say seven o’clock?”

“That sounds perfect.” He grins at me; maybe I’m imagining things, but it almost looks like a leer. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

My heart and my mind are still racing from my close call with Arbois as I return to my rooms. Much as I try, I can’t figure out what Arbois and the other person were talking about. Who is he so afraid of, and why would she try to stop him ? I know Arbois’s sister is the Queen of Jirena Sadai, but she was the one who sent him here, wasn’t she? Maybe there’s someone else she wants him to marry. But then, why would he have come to Cedelia in the first place? I may be a prince, but any benefits Arbois would gain from marrying me wouldn’t really matter if he burns all his bridges back home.

I spend the remaining time before dinner thinking about it, my thoughts going back and forth in circles until I don’t know which way is up. Maybe he’s trying to sabotage the negotiations somehow, and he doesn’t want his sister to find out? I am trying to do something similar myself, after all, but that seems like wishful thinking on my part. Or perhaps he wasn’t referring to his sister? Maybe he’s worried about a jealous lover he spurned? It’s entirely possible, but I really have no idea if it’s actually true.

For that matter, who was he talking to? It might have been his steward—I’ve never met the man, but Samis has, and, apparently, he’s rather large, so the deep voice would make sense—but I really have no idea. Clearly, it’s someone that Arbois trusts enough to let in on his plans, but that doesn’t really help much.

Despite my constant overthinking, I don’t come up with any concrete answers, just more questions. With about fifteen minutes to go before dinner, I make myself stop so I can get dressed and mentally prepare myself, and by the time Joram announces Arbois’s arrival, I’ve calmed down enough that Arbois won’t notice anything amiss. At least, I hope he won’t . Either way, there’s not much I can do about it right now, other than maybe try to get some information out of Arbois while we eat.

Speaking of whom, Arbois looks perfectly relaxed as he saunters into my dining room, giving me a strong handshake and looking me directly in the eye when he’s announced. “I’m glad you invited me, Darien,” he says as we take our seats. “I do so want to get to know you.”

“And I you. I trust you didn’t have any trouble finding your way to my rooms?”

“Not really. I had my steward ask for directions from one of the servants beforehand.” He laughs, but it sounds forced. “You know, it’s just struck me that I’ve been here for nearly a week, and this is the first time I’ve actually been inside your suite. It’s a bit strange, given the circumstances, isn’t it? I might think you were trying to avoid me if I didn’t know better.”

He looks at me expectantly while I frantically try to think of an answer that doesn’t come too close to the truth.

“Of course I’m not trying to avoid you,” I finally say. “I just thought you’d be more interested in seeing the rest of the palace than my boring chambers.”

“I suppose that makes sense. I must say, your library is wonderful. I’ve been able to do quite a bit of research there.”

He looks like he’s about to say more, but the servants choose that moment to deliver the first course—a salad with apples, walnuts, and salty cheese, and glasses of blood-red wine—and we both start eating.

While we’re eating, I consider how I can broach the topic that’s on my mind. But the silence grows, and nothing really comes to me, so I guess I’m just going to have to improvise. Here goes nothing . “How are you enjoying your stay in Soeria so far?”

“I like it quite a bit,” he replies, looking up from his food. “Your family has been nothing but hospitable.”

“I’m very glad to hear it. Of course, it’s the least we can do, considering how far you’ve traveled to get here.”

He nods. “Yes, it was a rather long journey, wasn’t it? But my time here is already proving to be quite productive, so I suppose it was worth it.”

I have a feeling that’s as good of an opening as I’m going to get. “Productive? Perhaps I’m out of the loop, but last I heard the negotiations haven’t been finalized just yet.”

“You’re right about that. Of course, concluding our marriage is my primary objective, but I do have other business in Cedelia. Just because the treaty hasn’t been signed yet doesn’t mean that my time here hasn’t been worthwhile.”

Now I’m genuinely intrigued. “Really? What sort of business?”

“Nothing that would concern you,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, I forgot to mention earlier—in addition to the library, I’ve also enjoyed the palace gardens quite a bit. Jirena Sadai is quite cold this time of year, and…”

I try not to let my disappointment show as he continues telling me about the differences between our two countries. His opacity isn’t surprising, but it is starting to get rather annoying.

The second and third courses come and go as we continue to chat about inconsequential things. He seems personable enough, and it takes me a little while to realize that he’s studiously avoiding talking about our potential future together. I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing—I don’t really want to have a future with him, after all—but either way, it doesn’t bother me too much at this point. Maybe he just doesn’t want to jinx it.

It’s not until the main course has arrived that things start to get interesting again. “So, Darien,” he says, in between bites of his roast beef, “you consider yourself to be a historian, even if an amateur one, correct?”

“I do,” I reply, suddenly cautious. Where is he going with this ?

“Well then, tell me something: how do you think history will record the two of us hundreds of years from now?”

I take a moment to think about it. “I’m… not quite sure. I suppose it depends on what happens in the future, doesn’t it? We both have quite a bit more living to do, I should hope.”

“I certainly hope so too. Still, I believe that if you wish to understand someone, you must look at their beginnings.” He waves a hand in my direction. “Don’t get me wrong—certainly many people achieve quite a bit later in life. But even if they do, their base, their foundation , is laid down relatively early on. You and I have very similar foundations, I should think.”

“Oh really?” Now I’m even more confused than I was before. “In what way?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Surely you can see the parallels. Both of us are princes, nearly as highly ranked as we can possibly be in our respective countries, and yet neither of us is destined to become king. You have your brother and I have my sister, and unless fate intervenes, it is their lines that will hold the thrones forever, not ours.”

“I can’t deny that’s true,” I allow. “But is our position really all that matters about us?”

“Of course it is. We may wish to believe otherwise, but when it comes down to it, you and I are nothing more than our titles, and that’s all we’ll ever be. Sure, we may try to pretend otherwise, but we’ll never succeed in being anything other than princes. All we can hope to do is to use our positions—our birthrights—for our own benefit, instead of letting them use us.” He pauses for a few moments with a solemn expression on his face before his polite smile returns. “I must say, your chef is quite excellent. This roast beef is perhaps the best I’ve ever had. In fact…”

Once again, I tune him out while he chatters about the food and how good it is. This time, though, I’m much more rattled than I was before. His words repeat themselves in my mind: You and I are nothing more than our titles, and that’s all we’ll ever be . I try to make them go away, to think of something else, but they stick there despite my efforts, and I can’t dislodge them no matter how hard I try.