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“Did you not hear? I have been summoned.” I frowned.
“And when the palace summons...”
“I go running,” I finished for her, taking my shirt from her hands.
“I will see you at your next crisis then.” She kissed the side of my face.
I was not sure what to say back to that. If my family had their way, I would be married before the year was over. And the last thing I could have was a mistress, especially one like her. So, I said nothing and stepped away from her to the door. Opening it, I found the blond-haired, freckle-faced palace guard who was more like my stalker, standing at the door, waiting for me.
“Your Highness, we must go,” he whispered, doing his best not to look at the woman behind me. Not because he was being discreet but because Wolfgang, even though he was twenty-three, was greener than all the hills in Ersovia. He was young but not that young. He had been at the palace for a few months as my personal secretary. Why he was blushing at a little thing like this was beyond me.
Eliza was the same age as him, and she knew a little too much about the world.
“Then let us go,” I said, walking out of her bedroom and closing the door behind me.
“Your shirt, Your Highness...”
“She never has anyone here when I call. Do not panic. No one is going to see,” I replied, but even still, he checked around me.
Shaking my head, I buttoned up the rest of my shirt as we walked down the stairs and out into the gardens. From her divorce, Sabina was given different properties around the country. One of them was here—a small, almost-forgotten cottage right outside the city. It happened to be right behind a historic art museum, so even if anyone saw me, I could easily just say I was here for the art.
“Even still, Your Highness, you should—”
“Please, do not start lecturing me. I already have one coming, and I am saving my energy for it.”
It took us twenty minutes to arrive back at the palace.
Another twenty for me sneak inside and take a shower—well, not sneak. The maids saw, but still, it was not as blatant as coming in from the front gates. Either way, I was dressed properly now and had arrived at my father’s library, awaiting my punishment.
However, when I opened the door, there was only my brother...and Ambrose, the head secretary of palace affairs.
“Oh, Gale. Good, you are here. Come in,” Arty said to me, Ambrose nodding his head.
Doing as I was told, not sure where this was going, I entered and took a seat in front of the desk as Arty offered.
“As I was saying, Adelaar,” Ambrose went on, making sure to call him by his title as always, “we’ve finished our profile on Ms. Odette Wyntor.”
Now I see. My punishment was already in progress.
Ambrose was fifty-two, stoutly built, white-haired, and with a signature, caterpillar-styled mustache. He also did not have much care for me, though he would not admit it. He had made two files, and he seemed to be disturbed at handing me the thick-bound folder.
“Did you make a profile or write a dissertation?” I asked, astonished at how heavy the folders were. It had only been one full day since we had spoken about this.
“It was not made clear to me what the purpose of the profile was, and therefore, I did not know which information was or was not essential to keep,” he replied with his standard seriousness, even though I was only joking.
He also knew for damn sure what this was for. The crown never asked for detailed profiles of someone unless they were marrying into the family. And the only person who could marry this woman was me.
“Thank you, Mr. Ambrose. That will be all for the time being,” Arty said, already nose-deep into the file.
“Adelaar.” Mr. Ambrose bowed slightly with his hand over his heart to my brother and then to me. “Your Highness,” he said and gave a simple nod before taking a single step back and then turning around and walking out the library door.
I waited for the door to close before I tossed the file onto my father’s desk.
“You are not going to read it?” Arty asked as I leaned back into my seat.
“What is the point? If I do not like anything, does that mean I can be excused from marrying her?”
It did not really matter what her profile said. She was rich, and we needed the money. That was all that was important. I knew he was hoping that by getting me this information, I’d warm to the idea and just blindly agree. So, it was better that I didn’t read it.
