Chapter 36
Willem was tall and dignified in his dress attire.
He wore a burgundy vest over a linen-colored blouse, hues that only emphasized the deep and warm facets of his complexion.
From where I stood, it was as if time had stilled.
Him, standing there at the forefront of the church for all of Chalke and Oreia to see; me, replete in my gloom, existing near the door.
Ser Willoughby and his bride took their seats on our side of the pews.
I took a deep breath, Elías’s arm in mine, then I took my first step toward Sameer. My knight coached me through it.
“Deep breath, Svana. You can do this.”
“Everyone is watching,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he said. He nodded cordially to a lord we passed. “They are watching and they will watch you make history as well.”
The Prince smiled, though there was a distance behind it.
He kept his eyes on mine as I traveled toward him, but soon, there was a whooshing in my ears.
The music was gone. The men and women around us had silenced, despite how certain I was they went on.
All I could hear was my breathing in and out, in and out, and my shoes tapping, moving me.
“Dearly beloved,” the priest began as I came to a stop.. “We have come here today in our Lord’s home, to bless the union of these two souls as they join together in holy matrimony. And so–”
“Excuse me,” I said, quietly, almost too soft.
He didn’t pause. “And so, in the presence of the God, I ask you both to state your intentions, so that–”
“Excuse me,” I said louder.
The priest stopped, confused. He leaned in. “Yes, Your Majesty? Is something wrong?”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “Svana?” he asked.
“No, not wrong, but I need to say something,” I said.
“What?” He gave me a look. “Right now? Can we not talk after the ceremony?”
“No, I–” I looked at him, then turned, facing the room. “Hello,” I said, weirdly. Murmurs. And then, “I have something to declare.”
Sam sighed in relief, he nodded. “Ah! Yes, of course, the declaring.” He addressed the crowd himself. “It’s alright, everyone! She’s Oreian, this is a thing they do, I’ve learned. They declare their intentions and such. It’s supposedly romantic.”
I frowned. “What? No. That’s not what I’m doing,” I said. I looked past him to see Mr. Evergreen. Mr. Evergreen was just as lost. “And only the men declare themselves, Your Highness. Not women.”
“What? Then what are you doing?” he asked.
My brows peaked. His bent.
I started over, turning from him another time. I stepped away. “I’m sorry you’ve all gathered today, but I can’t marry this man.”
Shock. Gasps. Commotion.
“Please, listen to me!” I tried to say over the mess.
Sameer was pale. “What are you doing?” he whispered. He touched my arm. “Don’t…Don’t do this–just—We’ll work out whatever this is about. Please. I’m not angry at you. Don’t be angry with me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not–” I huffed. “I’m not angry at you, Sameer.
I’m…” I faced the church. “I can’t marry him, and it’s not because he or I have done anything wrong.
It’s because it’s not what’s best for Oreia, or for Chalke, and I can feel that, deeply, deeply, in my bones. You must understand.”
King Azarri stood up and marched toward the altar; Ser Elías stepped between us.
I touched his back. “It’s alright,” I said, easing him. “It’s alright, Eli. Let me speak to the King.”
He stood down but was close anyway.
“Your Majesty,” I curtsied, showing my respect.
Sam covered his face. He strolled in a small circle, then shook his head. “Svana, please. This is completely unnecessary."
“Your Majesty,” I said, ignoring him. “Half a decade ago, you made a deal with my father. Your son to marry his daughter–a union for peace. A promise for our empires. Our futures.”
“Yes,” the King replied. “And so what is this about? Get on with that future already. The people are waiting.”
“No. This,” I gestured to myself, then Sam, then toward the people watching. “This is about giving our people hope. Real hope for their futures, for the futures of our empires, and for the futures of us, for years and years to come.”
“What future is served by your refusing to fulfill the Treaty? By your dismantling of the very foundation that fosters that hope these people need? By your destroying your marriage before it begins? I knew you were insane, but this is outrageous. This is absurd.”
“I’m not insane, Your Majesty. I’m actually thinking quite clearly and you misunderstand me in every way.
I’m not destroying my marriage, there is no marriage to destroy.
I haven’t taken any vows and I won’t because I am offering you–I’m offering Chalke and Oreia—a better marriage in its place.
” He paused. Sam, too. I found Will another time, then steeled myself, readdressing the King.
“Your Majesty, Sameer and I do not love each other. We love our countries. There’s a difference there.
And yes, romantic love can, perhaps, be learned in the right environment, but not when your heart is somewhere else.
Sam,” I faced the Prince. “You don’t love me.
You will never love me. That is a future I can predict.
You love another woman. A woman whom you had planned to propose to before I came along. ”
His eyes flicked toward Agatha, who, at that very moment, craned forward in her chair, her eyes wide with surprise. “How do you know that?” he asked.
“Our marriage could never make you happy,” I said. “And I am very resolute in my belief that it could never make me happy.”
“I would try,” he said, certain.
“Yes, but I don’t want you to try. I’ve seen the way you look at her; I’ve seen the way she looks at you.
Love like what you have for each other rarely happens twice in a lifetime.
It barely happens once and only if you’re very, very lucky.
It should be cherished, not discarded for any reason—even peace.
Especially peace. That is the kind of love you’d risk war for.
” I glanced at Cyrus again, then the Prince, squaring my shoulders.
“Your people deserve a happy Prince. My people deserve a happy Queen. They deserve to dream of their own happinesses, and of lives that are more than duty and obligation or love of empire. So. My proposition is this: we don’t get married.
You marry Miss Agatha. I don’t marry you, and life goes on.
Your people thrive because their Prince thrives.
The Treaty remains as it was designed, but with a minor tweak to the marriage clause, and that love and happiness you have carried all these years, continues to carry you for years and years, whatever may come. ”
The King scoffed. “Touching. Really. But the reason the marriage was designed the way it was, was to bind our nobility with yours, thus guaranteeing a balance of political control to prevent war in the future. You can’t just call off the wedding and declare ‘love and happiness,’ like some sort of romantic hero,” he said.
He motioned to the crowd. “You can’t just take away the benefits for Chalke, the protection that treaty gives us, and expect our blind compliance. ”
“I know that, Your Majesty,” I said. “I’ve not asked for blind compliance. And I’m well prepared to deliver those benefits as they were originally decided.”
“How?” he asked. “Miss Agatha is not nobility. She is certainly not Oreian nobility. She’s not even Chalke nobility. She’s not a lady. Her father is a merchant.”
“Yes, a merchant, who happens to be your coin,” I said. “So regardless of her political station she is still a very valuable piece on the board."
I met her eyes, then I snapped my fingers.
Ser Elías produced a rolled scroll from his armor and presented it to the King.
He took it and unfurled it, scanning the page.
I waved for Agatha to join me. She looked horrified and hesitated, but slowly, she stood and made her way to my side. She was polite and whispered carefully.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
I leaned in. “Trust me. We want the same thing.”
She nodded once, eyes glinting to Sameer, then me. “Alright,” she said.
I exhaled. “That’s the thing about nobility, I’ve finally learned here recently, Your Majesty.
It can only go back in the books so far before someone simply just made someone else important.
Kingdoms are burned and built overnight.
Kings and Queens are sacrificed every day.
Tomorrow, I could be killed in my sleep, and we would see a new monarch before the morning light.
They would bring with them their own companions.
Appoint their own nobility,” I said. “So. Allow me to exercise my power as Her Majesty and declare it now.” I nodded to the scroll.
“You’ve named her Duchess?” It was less a question and more an accusation.
“What?” Agatha gaped, horrified.
“Yes. In the event of your acceptance of my proposed amendments to the Treaty, Miss Agatha Adeline of Chalke—” I looked at her to explain.
“—in exchange for her unwavering kindness to the Queen in the formative hours of her need—shall hereby be appointed to Duchess Adeline, and awarded the reallocation of the Duchy of Farham, which, you’ll find on the attached map, is very formidable, and very near to the Chalke and Oreian border, far closer to Rothingham than Dawne.
In addition to this land and honor, she is formally named a friend to the Crown, and of course deeply thanked from the bottom of Her Majesty’s heart for her willingness to serve the realm by receiving such things with such grace. ”
“You’re making Agatha a Duchess,” His Majesty said. “What–Why?”
“Why? Because it is a true act of valor to be kind to the woman legally bound to marry the man you love, Your Majesty.”
“You’re naming her Duchess.”