CHAPTER 4 #2
"That's something, I guess." She resumed grooming, but I could see her processing this information. "What about personality? Is he at least capable of normal human conversation, or does he speak exclusively in diplomatic speeches?"
I almost laughed at that. "He can carry on a conversation when the situation calls for it. He even makes jokes occasionally. Bad ones, mostly, but he tries."
"Good to know. I was worried I'd be spending six months married to someone who only communicated in press releases."
Six months. So she believed the temporary marriage story. Interesting.
"You're planning to divorce after six months?"
She glanced up sharply. "That's the arrangement. Why, is there something I should know?"
"Just curious about the political implications. Marriage alliances usually aren't temporary."
"This one is." But there was something in her voice that suggested she wasn't entirely certain about that. "At least, that's what I've been told."
I filed that information away for later consideration. "And you're okay with marrying a stranger? Even temporarily?"
Her hands stilled on Celeste's coat, and for a moment her composed expression cracked. "I'm okay with doing whatever it takes to stop Putin from steamrolling smaller countries. And to protect my parents."
"Your parents?"
"My adoptive parents." Her voice turned bitter. "Apparently harboring a kidnapped child for twenty years makes them criminals, even though they had no idea. The Grand Duchess made it very clear what would happen to them if I refused to cooperate."
Heat flared in my chest. "She threatened them?"
"International kidnapping charges. Possible conspiracy charges related to my birth parents' deaths.
Complete nonsense, but she has the resources to make their lives hell even if the charges don't stick.
" Betty's jaw tightened. "My parents are the most innocent people on the planet.
They volunteer at animal shelters. They make casseroles for sick neighbors.
They don't deserve to be destroyed because some European duchess decided she needed a political marriage. "
I had to grip Celeste's lead rope to keep from saying something that would blow my cover entirely.
The idea of my future wife being coerced through threats against innocent people made me want to march straight to the Grand Duchess and demand an explanation.
Or possibly throw something. Throwing something seemed appealing.
"That's..." I struggled to keep my voice level. "That's unconscionable."
Betty looked up, surprised by the anger in my tone. "You sound like you actually care."
"Of course I care. Threatening innocent people to force a political marriage is medieval. And not in the charming castle-and-jousting way. In the actual terrible way."
"Well, medieval tactics are alive and well in modern European politics." She resumed brushing with more force than necessary. "But if six months of my life helps prevent another Ukraine situation and keeps my parents safe, then it's worth it."
That surprised me. Most people her age barely paid attention to international politics, but she understood the stakes involved.
"You follow European politics?"
"I follow human decency. Putin is a monster who needs to be stopped, and if this marriage alliance helps do that, then I'll play my part." She paused. "Even if that part involves learning seventeen different ways to curtsy."
She said it with the kind of conviction that made me realize I'd completely misjudged her motivations. This wasn't about money or status or escaping her old life. She genuinely believed she was doing something important.
"That's very noble of you."
"Noble?" She snorted. "There's nothing noble about it.
I have no idea how to be royal, I've never been outside of Oregon before yesterday, and I'm about to marry someone based entirely on political necessity.
But sometimes you do things because they're right, not because they're easy.
Also because your alternative is watching your parents get arrested. "
The way she said it, without self-pity or false heroics, just stating facts, made something shift in my perception of her.
This wasn't some gold-digger looking to upgrade her lifestyle.
This was someone who'd been thrust into an impossible situation and was trying to make the best of it while cracking jokes about curtsying.
"What scares you most about it?" I asked.
She was quiet for a long moment, focusing intently on Celeste's coat.
"Disappointing people. I mean, I'm not exactly princess material.
I don't know the first thing about diplomacy or any of it.
What if I mess this up? What if I embarrass Valdoria or damage the alliance somehow?
" She paused. "What if I accidentally start a war because I used the wrong fork? "
"You don't give yourself enough credit."
"How would you know?"
"Well, you've been here for exactly twenty minutes, and Celeste is already in love with you. That's not nothing."
She looked down at the mare, who was indeed standing with the relaxed posture of a horse completely at ease. "She's just being polite."
"Horses don't do polite. They either like you or they don't, and they're excellent judges of character. Better than most humans, honestly. They're not distracted by job titles or designer clothes."
Betty smiled at that, the first genuinely happy expression I'd seen from her. "My grandmother always said animals could sense good people."
"Your adoptive grandmother?"
"Yeah. Grandma Rose. She had this ancient cat that hated everyone except family members. She said Whiskers was better than any security system. He once bit the mailman so hard the guy had to get stitches."
"Sounds like a wise woman. And a formidable cat."
"She was." Betty's expression grew wistful. "She died when I was sixteen, but she always told me that if animals trusted you, you were probably doing something right in life."
I watched her continue grooming Celeste with gentle, confident strokes, and realized that this conversation was nothing like what I'd expected.
I'd come here to evaluate whether she could handle royal life, but instead I was learning about her character in ways that had nothing to do with politics.
And I was enjoying myself, which hadn't been part of the plan at all.
"What about you?" she asked suddenly. "Do you have family?"
The question caught me off guard. People rarely asked about my personal life. They were usually too intimidated by my title to treat me like a normal person. Of course, she didn't know about the title. She thought I was just Peter, the friendly horse guy.
"My mother," I said. "No siblings."
"Are you close?"
I considered how to answer that. Close wasn't exactly the word I'd use to describe my relationship with Queen Isabelle.
Strategically aligned, perhaps. Mutually exasperated.
Capable of having civil dinners as long as we avoided certain topics, like my future, my responsibilities, my love life, or basically anything that mattered.
"It's complicated," I settled on.
"Complicated how?"
"She has very strong ideas about duty and responsibility. Sometimes that conflicts with personal preferences. Most of the time, actually."
Betty nodded like she understood completely. "The greater good versus individual happiness?"
"Something like that."
"That sucks."
Her blunt assessment made me smile. "It does, sometimes."
"Is that why you work with horses instead of people? Less complicated?"
"Horses are honest. They don't have hidden agendas or political motivations. If they don't like you, they let you know immediately. Usually by trying to step on your foot. If they trust you, they'll give you everything they have."
"Unlike people."
"Unlike most people."
She studied my face with those sharp green eyes. "You sound like you speak from experience."
I did, but explaining my disillusionment with royal life seemed like poor preparation for her upcoming marriage to royalty. "Here, try this. You're getting engaged to him, might as well start practicing your disappointed expressions now."
"Everyone has experience with disappointing people," I said instead.
"True." She set down the brush and stepped back to admire her work. "How's that?"
Celeste's coat gleamed under Betty's careful attention, and the mare looked completely relaxed and content.
"Perfect. Ready to actually get on her?"
"As ready as someone can be for their first time, I guess."
I led Celeste to the mounting block and showed Betty how to position herself safely. When she was ready, I held the mare's head while she swung her leg over the saddle.
"Oh," she breathed as she settled into the seat. "This is different than I expected."
"Different how?"
"Higher. And she feels so alive underneath me. Like she's just barely containing all this power. Like she could take off running at any second if she wanted to."
I adjusted her stirrups and checked her position, trying to ignore the way her genuine wonder was affecting me.
Her hands were shaking slightly, nerves rather than fear, and her face was lit up with the kind of excitement I rarely saw in adults experiencing something new.
Most adults tried to look cool. She wasn't even trying.
"How does it feel?"
"Amazing. Terrifying. Like I'm about to fall off, but also like I never want to get down. Is that normal?"
"Completely normal."
I showed her how to hold the reins properly, my hands covering hers to demonstrate the correct grip. The contact sent an unexpected jolt of awareness through me. Her skin was soft, but her hands were stronger than I'd expected, with calluses from actual work rather than recreational activities.
"Easy pressure," I said, standing closer to the horse than strictly necessary. "You're not trying to control her, you're communicating with her."
"What am I trying to say?"