Chapter 41 — The Proposal
Alexander had already asked Amara to marry him.
At least, that was his position.
Amara disagreed.
“You asked me in the middle of an argument with my father.”
“I was on one knee.”
“Eventually.”
“I said the words.”
“You also discussed horses.”
“You brought up the horse.”
“And half my family was watching from the windows.”
“That was not my fault.”
Amara folded her arms.
Alexander recognized the expression.
“What exactly was wrong with my proposal?”
“It was very you.”
He waited.
“That does not sound like a compliment.”
“It isn't entirely.”
Alexander sighed.
“What would you have preferred?”
Amara looked at him.
For a moment he expected another joke.
Instead, she said quietly, “Something that belongs only to us.”
That ended the argument.
Alexander understood immediately.
Her entire life had become public since returning to Azania.
Her kidnapping had become international news.
Her rescue had become politics. Her speech had become a national event.
Even their marriage was being discussed by ministers, advisers, relatives, diplomats, and people neither of them had ever met.
Amara wanted one moment that was simply theirs.
Alexander decided to give it to her.
The problem was that Alexander Whitmore was incapable of doing anything simply.
At least at first.
His first idea involved the royal gardens.
He rejected it because servants were everywhere.
His second involved horses.
Kellan heard about it.
“Absolutely not.”
Alexander looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because my sister was kidnapped while riding.”
Alexander stared at him.
“I wasn't planning to kidnap her.”
“I understand that.”
“Then why—”
“Choose something else.”
Alexander reluctantly agreed.
His third idea involved a private dinner.
Queen Nalia somehow discovered it within two hours.
“What flowers?”
Alexander stared at her.
“How do you know?”
“I am her mother.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“What flowers?”
“I don't know.”
“Music?”
“No.”
“Candles?”
“Your Majesty—”
“A new gown?”
“Why would she need a new gown to receive a question?”
Nalia looked horrified.
Alexander abandoned the dinner.
His fourth idea involved a sunset boat ride.
Amara’s grandmother heard about that one.
She demanded food be sent.
Enough food for twelve people.
Alexander abandoned the boat.
By the third day, he was becoming desperate.
Kellan found him walking through the palace gardens.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“Still trying to propose?”
“Yes.”
“You already proposed.”
“Tell your sister.”
“I enjoy living.”
Alexander stopped.
“I have commanded men in battle. I have planned military operations. I captured Rourke. Why is asking one woman one question more complicated than all of those things?”
Kellan considered.
“Because the enemy usually doesn't criticize your choice of flowers.”
Alexander glared at him.
Kellan laughed.
Then his expression became serious.
“Stop planning.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“That is terrible advice.”
“For you, probably. Which is why it may work.”
Alexander waited.
Kellan continued.
“Amara doesn't need a performance. Half the men she knew before you were performing every time they entered the palace.”
Alexander understood.
Titles.
Money.
Status.
Men trying to impress a princess.
“She wants you,” Kellan said. “So stop trying to impress Princess Amara and ask Amara.”
Alexander stared at him.
“That was surprisingly intelligent.”
“Don't repeat it.”
“Never.”
That evening, Alexander found her in the library.
She was barefoot.
That immediately improved the situation.
Her shoes had been abandoned beside a chair, and several documents covered the table in front of her.
Alexander leaned against the doorway.
“Very royal.”
Amara looked down at her bare feet.
“My feet hurt.”
“History will be devastated.”
“History may wear the shoes if it objects.”
Alexander smiled.
“What are you working on?”
“Proposals for the survivors.”
The humor left his face.
Amara had spent days developing a plan to use seized assets from the trafficking network to support the people who had been freed.
Alexander walked closer.
“You're still working?”
“There are families to locate. Some people cannot return home immediately. Others have nothing to return to.”
“You cannot solve everything yourself.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She looked at him.
“No.”
Alexander pulled out the chair beside her.
“That answer was suspiciously honest.”
“I am tired.”
“Then stop.”
“I have one more report.”
“Amara.”
She sighed.
“Fine.”
She closed it.
“Happy?”
“Deeply.”
He offered his hand.
“Come with me.”
She looked suspicious.
“Where?”
“For a walk.”
“At night?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because walking is traditionally accomplished by leaving the room.”
Amara stared at him.
“There. That is precisely what I meant.”
“What?”
“You cannot answer a simple question without being clever.”
Alexander opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
She was right.
He held out his hand again.
“Will you walk with me?”
Amara smiled.
“Much better.”
They left through a side entrance into the gardens.
No guards followed closely, although Alexander knew several were somewhere nearby.
After the second kidnapping, King Adisa had made certain of that.
The palace was quiet behind them.
They walked beneath trees toward the older section of the gardens.
Amara had shown Alexander this place during his first days in Azania.
As a child, she had escaped tutors here.
As a teenager, she had hidden books beneath one particular tree because her mother complained that she read during formal receptions.
Alexander stopped beside it.
Amara looked around.
“Why are we here?”
“You like this place.”
“Yes.”
“That seemed sufficient.”
She studied him.
Something was different.
Alexander was unusually quiet.
“You're behaving strangely.”
“I know.”
“Are you ill?”
“No.”
“Did my father threaten you again?”
“No.”
“Kellan?”
“No.”
“My grandmother?”
“Your grandmother terrifies me, but no.”
Amara laughed.
Alexander smiled.
Then he looked at her for several seconds without saying anything.
She stopped laughing.
“Alexander?”
“I have been trying to plan something.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It has been a disaster.”
“Also unsurprising.”
“I considered flowers.”
Amara raised an eyebrow.
“Dinner.”
Her smile appeared.
“A boat.”
Now she understood.
Alexander continued.
“Your mother attempted to take control of the dinner. Your grandmother tried to provision the boat for a small military campaign. Kellan insulted every idea.”
Amara began laughing.
“So eventually I realized something.”
“What?”
“I was doing exactly what I promised your father I would never do.”
Her laughter faded.
“I was thinking about the princess.”
Alexander took her hand.
“I was trying to create something worthy of a royal daughter. Something impressive enough for the palace. Something people would remember.”
He shook his head.
“And none of that has anything to do with why I want to marry you.”
Amara became very still.
Alexander looked down at their joined hands.
“I met you when I didn't know your real name.”
“You knew my name.”
“I knew Amara.”
“That is my name.”
“I didn't know the rest.”
She smiled.
“No title. No kingdom. No palace. No royal ships. Certainly no understanding of how terrifying your family would eventually become.”
“Alexander.”
“Sorry.”
He stopped himself.
No jokes.
Not this time.
“I thought you were the most infuriating woman I had ever met.”
“You were correct.”
He almost laughed.
But he continued.
“You told me no when everyone around you expected obedience. At first it made me furious.”
“I remember.”
“Then it made me curious.”
He squeezed her hand.
“And eventually I understood that every time you said no, you were protecting the part of yourself nobody had managed to take.”
Amara’s eyes filled.
Alexander continued.
“I watched you fight for your freedom. Then I watched you fight for people whose names you didn't even know. I watched you face the man who ordered your abduction and refuse to become like him.”
He looked directly into her eyes.
“I watched you come home and discover that home had changed because you had changed.”
Amara said nothing.
“And somewhere in all of that, I stopped imagining a life in which you eventually went away.”
Alexander reached inside his coat.
Amara saw the small box.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
He opened it.
The ring was elegant rather than enormous—a clear stone surrounded by smaller ones in a delicate setting.
Amara looked from the ring to him.
“You bought that here?”
“No.”
“When?”
“Before we sailed.”
Her eyes widened.
“You had it all the way across the ocean?”
“Yes.”
“And said nothing?”
“I am occasionally capable of silence.”
“Not often.”
“Amara.”
“Sorry.”
Now she was the one ruining the moment.
Alexander smiled.
Then, slowly, he went down on one knee.
This time there was no king.
No royal council.
No family behind windows.
No audience.
Only Amara, barefoot beneath the trees where she had once hidden from tutors, and Alexander looking more nervous than she had ever seen him before.
He had faced weapons with steadier hands.
“Amara.”
Her eyes filled completely.
Alexander had prepared a speech.
He abandoned it.
No cleverness.
No jokes.
No explanations.
One question.
“Will you marry me?”
Amara looked at him.
The man who had once expected obedience from her was kneeling before her and asking.
Not commanding.
Not deciding.
Asking.
And waiting for her choice.
She remembered their first confrontation.
His instruction.
Her answer.
No.
That single word had become almost a language between them.
She had said no to captivity.
No to ownership.
No to fear.
No to everyone who believed her life could be decided without her.
Alexander waited.
For perhaps the first time since they had met, he looked genuinely uncertain of her answer.
Amara let him wait three seconds.
She could not resist.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Amara.”
She began laughing through her tears.
“Yes.”
Alexander remained perfectly still.
Perhaps because the answer was unfamiliar.
She laughed harder.
“Yes, Alexander.”
“You're certain?”
“Do not ruin this.”
He smiled.
“Sorry.”
“Yes.”
He stood.
Amara threw her arms around him.