Chapter 40 — Absolutely Not
King Adisa had given Alexander his blessing.
Alexander made the understandable mistake of believing this meant the difficult part was over.
The next morning, he discovered that receiving permission to marry Amara and agreeing on what happened after the marriage were two entirely different matters.
The problem began at breakfast.
It was supposed to be private.
In the royal family, private apparently meant the King, Queen, Amara, Alexander, Kellan, two of Amara’s sisters, Minister Okoro, three advisers, and Amara’s grandmother.
Alexander had stopped asking questions.
Adisa placed his cup on the table.
“The wedding will take place here.”
Amara buttered a piece of bread.
“No.”
Alexander stopped drinking.
Nobody else moved.
The King looked at his daughter.
“What did you say?”
“I said no.”
Alexander slowly placed his cup down.
He had learned from experience that holding breakable objects during disagreements between Amara and her father was unwise.
Adisa frowned.
“You will be married in Azania.”
“I may be.”
“You may be?”
“If Alexander and I decide that is what we want.”
The King stared at her.
Alexander stared at his breakfast.
Queen Nalia noticed.
“Captain, you have become very interested in that plate.”
“Your Majesty, this plate is currently the safest object in the room.”
One of Amara’s sisters laughed.
Kellan did not.
“Stay out of it,” he advised.
“That is precisely my strategy.”
Amara turned toward Alexander.
“What do you think?”
There it was.
The end of his strategy.
Alexander looked at the King.
Then at Amara.
Then at the King again.
“About?”
“Our wedding.”
“I support having one.”
Her grandmother laughed loudly.
Amara narrowed her eyes.
“Where?”
Alexander considered pretending not to understand the question.
He decided cowardice had limits.
“Wherever we decide together.”
Amara smiled.
King Adisa did not.
Thirty seconds of silence had officially ended.
“You are a princess of Azania,” Adisa said. “Your wedding is not merely a private affair.”
“That is exactly the problem.”
“It is a state occasion.”
“It is my marriage.”
“Both things can be true.”
Amara pushed her plate aside.
“I have been home for less than two weeks, and already everyone is deciding where I will marry, when I will marry, who will attend—”
“Nobody has chosen a date.”
“Yet.”
Adisa sighed.
“Amara.”
“No, Father. We need to establish this now.”
Alexander knew that tone.
The King apparently did too.
Queen Nalia leaned back and prepared to watch.
Amara continued.
“I love this country. I love this family. I understand my responsibilities. But I am not going to spend the rest of my life asking permission for every personal decision because I was born your daughter.”
Adisa’s face hardened.
“That is not what I asked.”
“You didn't ask at all. You announced.”
A dangerous silence followed.
Alexander glanced at Kellan.
Kellan whispered, “Do something.”
“Why me?”
“You're marrying her.”
“You're related to both of them.”
“Exactly. I know better.”
Alexander decided Kellan had finally said something intelligent.
Adisa stood and walked toward the windows.
“I nearly lost you.”
Amara’s anger weakened.
Her father did not turn around.
“For months, I did not know whether you were alive. Your mother woke crying. Your brothers blamed themselves. Ships returned without news.”
The room became quiet.
“When we found you, I promised myself that if I brought you home, things would be different.”
Amara stood.
“Father—”
“I know.”
He turned.
“I know what you are going to say. Protecting you cannot mean controlling you.”
Amara’s expression softened.
“Yes.”
“But understanding something and feeling it are different things.”
That silenced her.
Adisa looked at Alexander.
“I trusted you enough to give you my blessing yesterday. Today you expect me to accept that my daughter might marry somewhere across an ocean?”
Alexander finally spoke.
“No.”
The King looked surprised.
Amara looked even more surprised.
“No?” she repeated.
Alexander stood.
“I don't expect you to accept anything today.”
“That sounds suspiciously diplomatic,” Amara said.
“I have been surrounded by diplomats for two weeks. Something was bound to happen.”
Queen Nalia smiled.
Alexander continued.
“But your father is right about one thing.”
Amara folded her arms.
“Careful.”
“This marriage isn't entirely private.”
“Alexander.”
“Let me finish.”
That earned him a look promising consequences later.
He continued anyway.
“You are not simply a woman who happens to have wealthy parents. Thousands of people came to the harbor when you returned. Your speech is already being repeated across the country. Whether we like it or not, people care whom you marry.”
Amara was silent.
“And,” Alexander added, “my family matters too.”
Her expression changed.
That part she had not considered enough.
Alexander continued.
“If we marry here without them, I ask my mother and the rest of my family to miss one of the most important days of my life.”
Amara’s arms slowly unfolded.
“So what do you want?”
“I want us to stop arguing about where the wedding happens before we have decided what kind of wedding we want.”
Adisa looked at him with unexpected approval.
Amara noticed.
“Do not become allies.”
“Too late,” Kellan said.
Both Amara and Alexander turned toward him.
Kellan immediately returned to his breakfast.
Unfortunately, the wedding location was only the first disagreement.
Minister Okoro cleared his throat.
“There is also the question of Captain Whitmore’s position after the marriage.”
Alexander closed his eyes.
Amara looked at the minister.
“What question?”
“If Captain Whitmore becomes the husband of a royal princess, his status within the court must be defined.”
“I have a status,” Alexander said. “Captain.”
“In America,” Okoro replied.
“Still works here.”
“Not formally.”
Adisa returned to the table.
“A title would simplify matters.”
Alexander shook his head.
“No.”
Amara smiled.
Her father stared at him.
“You refused yesterday because you believed I was testing you.”
“I refused because I don't want a title.”
“You would be married to a princess.”
“Yes.”
“People must know how to address you.”
“Alexander works.”
Amara laughed.
The King did not.
“Absolutely not.”
Alexander raised an eyebrow.
Now it was his turn.
“Why not?”
“Because foreign ambassadors will not enter my court and address my daughter’s husband as Alexander.”
“Captain Whitmore.”
“You may not remain an active American officer indefinitely while living in Azania.”
“I may not live here indefinitely.”
Adisa stared at him.
Amara stared at him too.
Alexander realized he had just created a second war.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means we haven't decided where we will live.”
“You said you would come here.”
“I did come here.”
“For how long?”
“I don't know.”
Amara's expression changed.
Alexander suddenly wished he had remained silent longer than thirty seconds.
They finished breakfast without solving anything.
Or, more accurately, everyone except Alexander finished breakfast.
He spent most of it defending himself from three directions.
The King wanted clarity.
Amara wanted independence.
The advisers wanted protocol.
Her grandmother wanted him to eat.
By the time Alexander escaped into the gardens, he felt exhausted.
Kellan followed him.
“You handled that badly.”
Alexander turned.
“Your contribution was silence.”
“Exactly.”
“Coward.”
“Experienced.”
Alexander laughed.
Kellan leaned against a stone railing.
“You do realize Father is not really worried about the wedding.”
“I know.”
“He is worried she will leave again.”
“I know that too.”
“And Amara isn't really angry about the location.”
Alexander looked toward the palace.
“No.”
“She is afraid everyone will slowly begin making decisions for her again.”
Alexander nodded.
“I know.”
Kellan looked impressed.
“You may actually survive this family.”
“I survived you.”
“Barely.”
They smiled.
Then Kellan became serious.
“What do you want?”
“Regarding what?”
“Your life.”
Alexander did not answer immediately.
That was the question underneath everything.
He loved Amara.
That part was easy.
The rest was not.
He had a career.
A country.
A family.
An identity that existed long before Princess Amara entered his life and began destroying his peace.
“I don't know yet.”
Kellan nodded.
“Then don't pretend you do.”
For once, Alexander appreciated the advice.
He found Amara in the stables.
Naturally.
She was brushing the black horse she had shown him on his first days in Azania.
“Are you hiding?”
“No.”
“You're hiding.”
“I am spending time with someone who does not discuss wedding protocol.”
The horse moved its head.
Alexander remained at a safe distance.
“Does he have an opinion?”
“Several. All sensible.”
“I dislike him already.”
Amara continued brushing.
Alexander waited.
Finally she said, “You don't know if you want to live here.”
“No.”
The honesty hurt her.
He saw it.
“Amara, that doesn't mean I don't want to live with you.”
“Then what does it mean?”
“It means I arrived here days ago.”
“You knew this might become your home.”
“I knew I wanted to follow you. That isn't the same thing.”
She stopped brushing.
Alexander stepped closer.
“I love Azania from what I've seen. Your family is terrifying but occasionally tolerable.”
“Thank you.”
“Your country is extraordinary.”
“But?”
“But I need to discover whether I can build a life here rather than simply attach myself to yours.”
Amara understood that.
She did not necessarily like it.
But she understood.
Alexander continued.
“If I abandon everything that made me who I am, eventually I may resent you.”
“I would never ask you to do that.”
“I know. Just as I would never ask you to stop being a princess.”
She looked at him.
“So what do we do?”
“We figure it out.”
“Very specific.”
“I thought you appreciated freedom.”
“I appreciate plans.”
“No. You appreciate your plans.”
“That is because mine are usually better.”
Alexander smiled.
There she was.
Amara rested the brush on the stable door.
“I don't want a marriage where everyone else decides what happens.”
“Neither do I.”
“I don't want my father deciding where we live.”
“Agreed.”
“Or where we marry.”
“Agreed.”
“Or what title you receive.”
“Very strongly agreed.”
“Or how many children we have.”
Alexander blinked.
“Has he discussed that?”
“Not yet.”
“Good.”
“My mother has.”
Alexander looked toward the palace in alarm.
Amara laughed.
“How many?”
“I am not telling you.”
“Amara.”
“Absolutely not.”
Alexander groaned.
She finally smiled.
Then she stepped into his arms.
“I am afraid,” she admitted.
“Of marriage?”
“No.”
“Me?”
“Occasionally.”
“Reasonable.”
She rested her forehead against his chest.
“I am afraid of coming home and slowly becoming the woman everyone expected me to be before I was taken.”
Alexander wrapped his arms around her.
“That won't happen.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I have met you.”
She laughed quietly.
Then he became serious.
“And because if anyone tries to turn you into someone you aren't, I will remind you.”
“Even my father?”
“Preferably from a safe distance.”
That afternoon, Amara went to see the King alone.
Adisa was in his study.
“Father.”
He looked up.
“Have you come to say no again?”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“But I have also come to say you were partly right.”
That got his attention.
“Should I summon witnesses?”
“Do not ruin this.”
Adisa smiled.
Amara sat across from him.
“Alexander’s family should be part of the wedding.”
“Yes.”
“And the people of Azania will care.”
“Yes.”
“But I will not have a wedding designed entirely as a political ceremony.”
Adisa considered.
“What do you propose?”
“I don't know yet.”
The King raised an eyebrow.
“Alexander has infected you.”
“Apparently.”
They both laughed.
Then Amara reached across the desk.
“Father, I came home.”
Adisa’s expression softened.
“I know.”
“I am not disappearing again.”
“You cannot promise that.”
“I can promise I will never leave you wondering whether I wanted to go.”
The King looked at his daughter’s hand.
Then he covered it with his own.
“I am learning.”
“So am I.”
The following morning, the family gathered again.
Alexander entered the dining room cautiously.
“Are we fighting today?”
“Probably,” Amara said.
“Excellent.”
King Adisa ignored them.
“I have a proposal.”
Alexander and Amara exchanged suspicious looks.
“One wedding in Azania,” the King said.
Amara opened her mouth.
“Wait,” Adisa said.
She closed it.
“A royal ceremony here, with both families present. Your family will be transported at my expense, Captain.”
Alexander started to object.
“Do not insult me by arguing about the ships.”
Alexander reconsidered.
“Continue.”
“And afterward, if you wish, a smaller celebration in America.”
Amara looked at Alexander.
He looked at her.
“That is not terrible,” she admitted.
Adisa looked offended.
“Thank you.”
Alexander smiled.
“What about where we live?”
“Your decision.”
Both of them stared at the King.
Adisa shrugged.
“I am capable of learning.”
Amara smiled.
“And Alexander’s title?”
“He requires one.”
“No,” Alexander said.
“Yes,” Adisa replied.
“No.”
“Absolutely yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
Amara began laughing.
Queen Nalia joined her.
Kellan entered halfway through the argument, listened for several seconds, and quietly poured himself coffee.
“What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Amara said. “The men are negotiating.”
Alexander pointed at the King.
“He is trying to make me something.”
“You already are something,” Adisa replied. “Unfortunately, royal protocol requires us to determine what.”
Kellan sat down.
“This could take months.”
“Good,” Alexander said.
The King shook his head.
Later, Amara and Alexander stood on the palace balcony overlooking the city.
“Thirty seconds,” she said.
“What?”
“You remained silent this morning for approximately thirty seconds.”
“I was being diplomatic.”
“You were frightened.”
“Your father commands an army.”
“So?”
“Your mother has wedding plans.”
“True.”
“Your grandmother wants to increase my body weight.”
“Also true.”
“And you say no to practically everything.”
Amara smiled.
“And you're still here.”
Alexander took her hand.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at her as though the answer should have been obvious.
“Because you're here.”
Amara kissed him.
Below them stretched the kingdom that had almost lost its princess and now wanted to celebrate her return with a wedding grand enough to become history.
Across an ocean waited Alexander’s old life.
Neither knew exactly how the two worlds would fit together.
But for once, they did not need to know.
The King could say no.
Amara could say yes.
Alexander could remain silent for approximately thirty seconds.
After that, naturally, he had opinions.
Lots of them.
And somehow, between all the arguments, they were beginning to build a life that belonged not to a king, a kingdom, or tradition.
It belonged to them.