“Of course.” Sarah gave her a wistful smile. “You will be the one to seal with your own blood whatever contract you choose. I can only offer my best advice. Shall we go through Queen Zarja’s offer in detail?”
Hours later, Rose returned to HASP, eyeing the dignified edifice with a considerably more cynical attitude. She understood now why Sarah Older had insisted on a six-hour appointment. Following the bruising introduction to the reality that would be the rest of Rose’s life, they went over every offer in painstaking and painful detail.
Sarah had done her the dubious favor of calculating the rates of likely debt accumulation or payoff—almost always the former—for every offer. Not that Rose didn’t appreciate the extensivepreparation Sarah had put into the effort. The numbers simply didn’t lie. At one point, with a pounding headache, Rose had taken advantage of the fainting couch, just to rest her mind a moment. Sarah had produced a restorative drink, a fizzing blend of fruit juices with a solid punch of alcohol. Not enough to muddy her decision-making, Sarah had explained wryly, but sufficient to soften the blow somewhat. Though nothing could truly soften the stark choices Rose faced.
All she wanted was to find Sebastien and forget herself for a few hours in his arms, in the sheer sensual bliss of his touch. He had a way of banishing all her thoughts until she existed only in the moment, floating in an erotic cloud of blessed sensation. These last weeks with him had been the happiest of her life. She hadn’t realized the true depths of her loneliness until Sebastien filled that hole. He was the balance she’d needed without knowing it and he would be able to reassure her that her life could still be a good one. She wanted nothing more than to tell him all about the appointment, but Sarah had reminded Rose before she left that her counsel was private and contained proprietary information.
Rose wasn’t to share any of it. With anyone. She probably shouldn’t have told him where she was going, but she could trust Sebastien not to tell.
“I’m sure you understand now,” Sarah had said with a significant lift of her brows, “that I wouldn’t be in business at all if the academies knew what kind of advice I’m dispensing. As far as someone like His Majesty King Soren… Well, he might find executing me the simplest way to silence me. Especially should you decide to refuse his offer. He can’t know that I advised you against it. I’m trusting you to be discreet, with my very life.”
So, instead of finding Sebastien—she shouldn’t really seek him out publicly anyway—Rose headed straight for her tower room. Pacing in a circle, Rose paused at one of the tall windows with its expensive glass, looking out at the wintery landscape.Though it was technically early spring, deep snow blurred the contours of even the stern walls surrounding the academy grounds. She’d never before felt like a prisoner, but the sensation settled into her bones as if she’d been physically chained.
A familiar knockrat-a-tattedon her wooden door, unmistakably Sebastien. She went to unbolt and open the door for him. Nina and Nonna, tongues lolling in happy greeting, trotted in with him.
“It’s not close to lights-out yet—” she began, cut off by Sebastien’s welcoming kiss.
His arms came around her, comforting and warm, his sunshine scent as delicious as his heated mouth on hers. The world resettled into place, full and meaningful again. She fell into the dreamy dizziness that Sebastien brought her, his personal gift of being fully alive. “I couldn’t wait a moment longer to see you.”
She laughed, charmed by him, soothed, feeling as if she’d come home. “Silly,” she said. “I’ve only been gone a few hours.”
“More important,” he added, pulling back to scan her face with an eager smile, his gorgeous green eyes alight with excitement, “I couldn’t wait a moment longer to hear your news! How many fabulous offers did you receive and just how wealthy and infamous will you be, my queen?”
She tugged away from him, keenly aware of the secrets she’d been enjoined to keep, and bent to pet the hounds, using long ear rubs as an excuse to avoid meeting Sebastien’s questions. More than anything, she wanted to tell Sebastien everything, as she’d become accustomed to doing. They’d lie entwined together at night, watching the dancing shadows cast on the ceiling from the fireplace, and tell each other stories of their lives. Sebastien had become her best friend, knowing more about her than her parents ever had, even her father. She should be able to tell him everything from this so very important day.
But… could she? If Sebastien felt he must be loyal to his own father, he might feel compelled to tell the king about Sarahand the sort of advice she gave. And Rose couldn’t risk putting Sarah’s life on the line.
“There are so many to choose from,” she said, not quite answering the question. “I’m exhausted from thinking about them all, frankly, and I have a headache.” All true, if not the whole truth.
“Heavy is the crown, my queen.” Sebastien sat in one of her big chairs by the fireplace. Nina and Nonna sprawled into a furry circle on the rug she’d taken to keeping there for them. “Come cuddle with me,” he said, patting his knee.
Gratefully, Rose sat on Sebastien’s lap, leaning her head against his chest as he combed his fingers through her long hair, massaging her scalp, his golden touch vanishing her headache like magic. “You want to tell me about it?” he asked after a few moments.
Oh, how she did. And she hated,hatedthat she couldn’t just spill everything in her mind and heart to him like usual. “I’m too tired to talk,” she said in a blurry voice, which was mostly true. “This is nice, though.”
“I will hold you like this forever,” he promised. “When we’re old and gray, you’ll come sit on my bony knee before a fire that we’ll have the servants build up to be hotter than the surface of the sun, and I’ll rub your aching head and you’ll tell me all the amazing feats of oneiromancy you performed that day.”
“That’s a lovely image,” she conceded.
“In fact,” Sebastien continued in a slightly altered tone, “I have a gift for you and an important question to ask.” He reached between them to pull something out of his vest pocket. “A promise, too,” he added, “of that future.”
Her heart stuttered to a stop. “Sebastien, I—”
“I know it’s only been a few months,” he said over her, “which I’m sure will be your very rational argument, but you have decisions to make. I want you to have all the information you need to weigh your options.” With deft fingers, he opened the box one-handed, displaying a glittering ring. “Will you marry me, Rose?”
She stared at the jewel, utterly gobsmacked. Unlike the ring—and, really, all the jewelry Clotaire had showered upon her—this wasn’t a rose. Instead it was an opal, a perfect sphere, set in a net of silver, gold, and platinum, uplifted so that the light shimmered over its exquisite surface, bringing out a rainbow of color in an orb of pristine white. She touched it tentatively, moved by its radiance, undermined by doubt.
“No rose metaphors,” Sebastien said softly. “First lesson.”
“Sebastien…” She couldn’t say more, her mouth too dry, her throat too tight.
“It’s the moon, like you,” Sebastien offered, almost shyly, then gave her his real smile. “You never ruled out moon metaphors.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she told him in utter honesty. It felt like so much. Too much. On top of the crushing weight of choosing a future, this forever commitment came as one more burden.
“Didn’t…” Sebastien began, after the silence had lengthened and grown into something unwieldy. He faltered. Cleared his throat. “I had believed that my father would make an offer?”
She stilled. Pulled back to look at his beautiful face, those clear green eyes empty of guile. “What do you know about it?”
