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“Do you wish to go to the stateroom?” I asked, rising from my chair.
“We have already had our weekly meeting. He is coming without an appointment, so the study will have to suffice,” she stated and then looked back to Balduin. “Have him wait a moment. Also, have Julianna call for tea, oh, and my gloves.”
As the maids came in to help my mother prepare, I could not help but try to think of a way to escape. The prime minister was the last man in this country that I wanted to see now or ever for that matter.
Noble bastards were insufferable.
It was a horrible thing to say, as such, and I would never admit it aloud, but it was how I felt. I never met one that was not a complete and utter pompous ass, overcompensating for their lack of title and station by screaming at the world. Ivan S. Hermenegild was a noble bastard. The illegitimate son of the late Earl of Esterbarrow, and at thirty-seven, the youngest man ever elected Prime Minister of Ersovia.
“Explain to me how this man won again?” I muttered to my mother as she adjusted her gloves.
“He is young, handsome, and—”
“Massively egoistical as well as tediously bothersome. Also, he is at best decent looking. He is only called handsome because he is surrounded by pudgy old men in parliament all day.”
“No, I will give him that one. He is fine looking—then again, the late Earl of Esterbarrow was also fine looking.”
I rolled my eyes. “Handsome. Not handsome. It is irrelevant. The fact is that he is an idiot masquerading as an intellectual, preaching that the sky is always falling. Ersovia is always on the brink of some disaster that only he can save us from. Never in my life have I ever wished I could vote as badly as I did in the last election.”
She stood, smoothing her dress, and glanced at me. “Have you gotten all your displeasure out now?”
“If only I could. Everyone in this palace except us can vote.” I frowned, taking a step behind her. “I wonder how many of our own people voted for him.”
“We are not supposed to wonder that.”
“Yes, I know. He is the people’s choice, and therefore, I must respect him even if I dislike it. And I very much dislike it.”
“Sometimes, you are almost exactly like your father, and I do not know if it is comforting or terrifying.” She snickered before grabbing her bell and ringing it.
Immediately, the butler stepped inside and bowed his head before proclaiming, “Prime Minister Hermenegild.”
The tall, blond-haired, square-jawed man stepped inside, wearing a pinstriped suit and holding a cane, even though the man had no problem with his legs, nor was this an event that called for it. He placed his hand over his heart, bowing to us both.
“Prime Minister,” my mother said as she extended her hand.
When he kissed it, I knew why she had requested gloves so quickly. It was a tradition to kiss the hand of the queen. However, in these modern times, people avoided doing so by bowing their heads instead. But not Hermenegild—he was a hardcore traditionalist.
“Your Majesty,” he said as if he was trying to seduce my mother. “Your radiance never dulls but grows ever more blinding with each passing day.”
I, the man who loved prose and poets, cringed at his flagrant display of forced and fake chivalry—another trait of noble bastards.
“Adelaar.” He placed his hand over his heart, bowing to me.
I nodded in return, keeping my mouth shut.
“You flatter me, but thank you.” She took back her hand.
He looked back at my mother. “Forgive me for intruding again, ma’am. However, I was just made aware of the Adelaar’s current engagement.”
Current? Did I have a previous one?
“I am honored that you came in person to congratulate me, Mr. Prime Minister,” I said, though I had a feeling that was not his reason, seeing as he did not acknowledge my comment.
“Please, sit.” My mother broke the silence, her voice changing to that softness she always used in public. She stretched her arm for him to take his seat, and he waited for her to do so before he did while I sat in the corner chair away from them both.
“Tea?” she asked him, pointing to the maid at the cart, who walked over and gave a cup to my mother.
“Yes, thank you.” He nodded, accepting it.
