The Ring and the Crown (The Ring and the Crown 1)

“He is,” Wolf said, turning to her in surprise. “Don’t be so hard on yourself! My brother is a very lucky man, he always has been.” He meant it. Marie would be a good wife to Leo: kind, devoted, helpful, smart. Leo was a great man—generous with his subjects, a forward-thinking statesman, a formidable opponent on the battlefield, a hero to his men—but he had none of the qualities in a person that made life bearable, even—dare he think it?—happy. “You are an absolutely remarkable girl,” Wolf said, looking into her fair gray eyes with deep sincerity.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she said, looking pleased.

“Like I said, I am just being honest,” he said. “Yes, absolutely remarkable—you must be the only girl in the empire who isn’t in love with my brother. Why is that, do you think?”

“I’m immune to his charm?” she laughed.

“Mmm,” Wolf said thoughtfully. She’d drawn the short stick in the bargain, truly. She was a princess, however; she understood the way the world worked. Love was not a priority for the likes of them—it was a luxury they could not afford. Perhaps she would find a way to make peace with the marriage.

“Oh well. At least now we’ll see each other more often,” she said, brightening.

“Count on it. Every Christmas and Easter at least.” He raised a champagne glass and clinked it against hers. “You’ll never get rid of me at your table.”

“Princess? It’s time to take your tonic,” her soldier said, looking intently at Marie.

Wolf raised an eyebrow. There was something just a bit proprietary and familiar in that man’s tone…but he supposed someone who was with Marie day and night would naturally feel that way about her.

Marie nodded. “Yes, thank you, Corporal.”

“You’re welcome, Your Highness.”

“Protective chap, isn’t he?” Wolf asked, as the soldier went back to his respectful distance. “He doesn’t look like a city boy—where’s he from?”

“His family’s from the north—Ayrshire, I think,” Marie said, blushing unexpectedly.

Wolf squinted at the soldier and saw a meaningful glance pass between him and his friend. Ah. So Marie was in love as well. Wolf mused on how he felt about that. He felt a little uncomfortable, sure, and more than a little pained for her. He hoped it was mere infatuation, for her sake. He could not imagine Leo would stand for being made a cuckold. His brother would expect his wife to remain faithful, even if he was not. If Marie knew what was good for her, she would put this young soldier aside soon enough. Or not. The wags did say that Wolf closely resembled a dashing Bavarian knight who had served his mother. Not that it had ever mattered. Not that his father, stodgy King Frederick, had ever shown any indication of listening to vicious rumors.

Wolf was the second son. He would never inherit the throne. In a way, it would never matter who his father was.

Not with Leo around.

In the weeks since Marie had first been introduced to Leo, since that first abrupt conversation, things had not progressed nor developed for the better. Now that the season was truly upon them, with the royal ball imminent, the two of them had to spend a lot more time together to move the courtship along. The prince was just as charming and sparkling as ever, and although it seemed every girl at court had lost her heart to him, Marie felt as indifferent as before. Was there something wrong with her? Why did she not find him handsome? Or even humorous? While everyone at court praised his good looks and rapier-sharp wit, she continued to find him false and dull.

Even Aelwyn thought she was being too harsh on him. The sorceress had taken to joining Marie at meals. Their old friendship was renewed over many glasses of mulberry wine, and the sense that they wanted to cling to each other as everything changed around them. Aelwyn would soon bond to the sisterhood, and Marie to Leopold. Aelwyn urged her to try and accept her fate, as she had. It was a running joke between them that Leopold was going to marry the wrong girl. If only it was Aelwyn who was the princess…if only…

Try as she might, Marie could not soften her feelings toward him—could not find a semblance even to her dear friend, Wolf. When she looked at Leo, she saw darkness and despair, a miserable gray future in which she was shackled to him for the rest of her life.

That evening she was suffering through another long and ponderous state dinner in which the health of both nations was toasted, along with the health of the monarchs and the young royals. She sat with Leo on one side and a rather entertaining young man on the other. He was one of the princes from Spain, as London was now full to bursting with the glamorous, young, and titled who had come to the city for the season.

When dinner was over and the servants had cleared the table, it was time for the ladies to depart for the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen at the table to their cigars and brandy. Leo came to her chair to bow and kiss her hand. “Don’t,” she said.

“Excuse me, my lady?” Leo said, surprised. He looked uncertain as to whether or not to take her hand, now that she was holding it up in a “stop” signal.

Don’t touch me. Don’t tell me how beautiful my eyes are, how soft my hair is, how you love to hear my voice. Don’t. Don’t pretend you are falling in love with me. I know you are lying, and every word you say hurts even more. Let us just be friends, if we can start there.

Can’t we? Can’t we at least be friends? Get to know each other a little? Before the wedding, and the bedding, when I will have to take you as my lord and husband?

But all she said was “Don’t.” Her eyes dropped, and her hand fell to her lap as well.

“You are tired, my dear,” he said, and patted the back of her chair instead of any part of her. At least he had divined that much.

“Good night,” she murmured.

He bowed and waited as she stood, following the ladies into the drawing room. Once inside, she took a cordial and downed it in one gulp. Aelwyn raised her eyebrows, but she did not say anything to her friend. Marie played one hand of bridge, listening to the idle chat and speculation about the upcoming royal ball. “I heard the sisterhood is working on a charm spell—that it will be like winter inside the palace!” one said.

“Oooh, I hope it doesn’t get too cold!” another gushed.

“I do! Mama said I could wear the white mink!”