He shrugged. “Ten maybe.”
“Exactly.”
He wanted to touch her, but he wouldn’t. That path led to madness. To ruin. “That doesn’t mean I’m eager to go in and make any announcements.”
“I know,” she said, her voice much more subdued than he was accustomed to hearing it.
“Tell me your favorite thing about Kyonos,” he said. He wanted to keep her from thinking too much. From feeling sad. Especially when they both knew exactly what likely awaited her back home.
She blinked rapidly. “I like … I like the sea. The heat. The cafés. I like that it isn’t covered in snow.” Her voice thickened. “I like that I can go outside whenever I want without worrying about frostbite. And that I don’t have to sit by a fireplace to get warm.”
“And you have your own room?” he asked, pain lancing his chest.
“Yes. For as long as I have my own room, I’ll treasure it. Until the day I’m forced into marriage. Into sharing it with someone I don’t know or care about. Until that day, there will be things I enjoy about Kyonos. About life. I’ll get back to you after that.”
She turned and walked back to her seat, her posture stiff. And Mak tried not to wonder when he’d started feeling things again.
She’d lied. Big-time. There was nothing comforting about home. Truthfully, there was nothing home about home. It was nothing but a castle built for ancestors long dead, to impress the outside world, and to imprison those who lived in it.
At least some of the people who lived in it.
She tried not to flinch as she walked through the vast open doors that led into the foyer of the castle. High ceilings, built that high for the express purpose of making those who’d just walked across the hallowed threshold feel very, very small.
She was determined not to let it work. That didn’t mean it wasn’t working a little bit, but she was trying to make it so that it didn’t.
Mak was behind her, his presence solid. Comforting. Intoxicating. Everything it shouldn’t be. She couldn’t lean on Mak. She had to draw strength from herself. Even so, she ached for a partner. Not a support, but someone who would stand beside her, an active participant in what she was about to do. Not a passive soldier who simply walked ten paces behind, his emotions cut off. His body present, his heart cold as stone.
It was just before noon and there was staff everywhere, hurrying around them paying her very little attention. The staff weren’t wild about her, not because of any personal dealings but because she caused trouble in the well-ordered world of the palace. Anyone who made King Stephanos unhappy indirectly made them unhappy, after all.
She continued, head down, toward her father’s office, trying to ignore the prickle of heat on the back of her neck, the racing of her heart that told her Mak was keeping pace with her.
She stopped at the door to the king’s office. She only thought of him as The King when she knew he was going to issue an edict she didn’t like. And something inside her told her that he was about to.
“Shall I go with you?” It was the first time Mak had spoken since the plane landed.
“No,” she said. “I’ll handle it. After all, it isn’t as though we’ve been caught out.” She turned the door handle and stepped into the room. “Father, I’m home.”
Stephanos didn’t look up from the papers in front of him. “Good. We have to act quickly.”
“We do?”
“Yes.” He looked up then, pulling his glasses off. “The press is tearing you apart. You’re quickly becoming a running joke. Some are quite clever though none bear repeating in polite company.”
Eva swallowed and straightened her shoulders. “As long as it’s done cleverly. I’d hate to think the jokes were stupid as well as vulgar.”
“Be that as it may, there may be a chance to save you yet.”
She looked left, then right. “Is there a priest around?”
Her father treated her to an expression that was decidedly lacking in amusement. “There will be soon enough. Bastian Van Saant has agreed to go forward with the marriage and I have accepted his offer for your hand.”