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“I am well, thank you.” I follow my mother to the chairs across from them and take my seat, taking my time to arrange my voluminous skirts. “Your visit is a pleasure for all of us.”
“You are wearing my token,” he says, his gaze fixed on the pendant resting on my collarbone.
“Yes.” His tone makes me frown. “Of course.”
“You return my son’s affections, then,” his father says, the older prince Iason the First. He claps his hands together. “Excellent.”
“But…” Iason says.
A strange silence falls. I’m waiting for him to finish his unexpected objection. It seems we all are. What is he objecting to?
“It is excellent news,” his father eventually says, glancing at his son, his brows knitting.
Prince Iason is frowning, too. “It’s just that…” He lifts his gaze, fixes it on me. “You look so young,” he says. “I thought you’d look… more like a woman.”
My first thought is,crap… Lily was right. I should have worn the golden gown.
And then I think…why is he doing this? I’m not a mare for sale. I’m a princess. I am an adult. He knows my age. He knows everything about me. He has met me before.
But my mother says, “She looks young but don’t worry, my prince. She will make you a great wife. She is quiet and obedient and will give you beautiful, strong children. Not to forget, you’ll have the alliance of Kyrene.”
Iason is still frowning. Our expressions match, if nothing else.
“We would be honored for that alliance and to welcome princess Selina into our family,” Iason’s father says. “Iason, speak.”
“Yes,” prince Iason says after an uncomfortable pause. “Yes, of course. My apologies, princess. You are very beautiful and I am honored that you have accepted my token. Can we take a walk around the room together?”
“Of course,” my mother answers for me.
The older prince waves a hand dismissively at us.
Prince Iason stands up and comes to offer me his hand. “Princess?”
I take his hand, warm and a little soft, and let him pull me to my feet. He’s taller than me—but not by much. I can easily look into his eyes, which is odd, as Adar had loomed over me even in merman form and—
“Stop it,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry?”
“Nothing.” I give him a tight smile in return and walk with him to the window at the end of the room.
“So…” He glances outside at the sunny autumn morning. “I started off on the wrong foot, didn’t I? Made you angry.”
“It’s all right,” I mutter.
He hasn’t done anything terribly wrong, I remind myself. Saying I look young isn’t an insult. Usually it isn’t.
“I know you’re a woman,” he goes on doggedly.
“Well, I should hope so. You’re looking for a wife, after all.”
He casts me an uncertain look. His eyes are a watery blue—not like summer skies at all, not like Adar’s pretty eyes, andwill you stop it, Selina Elizabeth Thornton?—and his brows are arched like they’re about to take flight.
“You need a woman to make a wife,” I explain, annoyed. Not sure if it’s with him or myself. “And I am one.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m only used to women looking… older.”
“Well, I’m not your mother.”
