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“Come in.”
I opened the door to the king’s office. The moment I stepped inside, I could tell by the feeling in the air that the king wasn’t happy. I’d known Alaric for so long that one look at him, stoic as he might’ve seemed to others, was enough to get a read on him.
It was evening, just after dinner. Alaric, dressed in black slacks and shiny boots, his red coat tinged with white and gold, stood before the fire. One hand was placed on the armrest of his favorite chair, the other held a glass of red wine.
“Pour yourself something to drink,” he said, his stentorian voice filling the room. “We need to talk.”
If I hadn’t already known that he was in a bad mood, that would’ve done it. Alaric had never been the sort of man to fly off the handle—a good trait for a king, all things considered. When he was upset, he liked to watch the fire and sip his wine, trying to work through whatever problem was on his plate.
I wasn’t much in the mood for a spirit. A stiff drink was for relaxing, not having a serious conversation with your king. All the same, I wasn’t about to tell him no. I stepped over to the bar and poured myself a measure of whiskey, taking the glass over to where Alaric stood near the fire. I waited for him to sit before doing the same.
I’d never been the type to worry. But I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew about Ava and me.
He watched the fire for a time before speaking.
“Tell me Luc, what is your opinion of my daughter?”
The mere mention of Ava was enough to make my stomach tense. I had no choice but to play it cool.
“Ava? She’s wonderful. She’s kind, thoughtful, and determined. Takes after her mother in the best ways possible.”
“But she is not princess material.”
I said nothing for a moment. What was on his mind? Was he planning on sending Ava back to the States, writing off the whole thing as a failure? As I sat with the idea, I realized that it didn’t seem right at all. Alaric was perhaps the only man in Edoria as stubborn as me.
“Not yet anyway.” He followed his words with a sip of his wine.
“Might I ask what’s on the king’s mind?”
Alaric took in a slow, deep breath. It was a common sight. He liked to measure each word carefully before speaking.
“I met with Oscar and Giselle today.”
“Uh-oh.” I had a good feeling where this conversation was going. A tinge of relief washed through me as I realized it wasn’t going to be about the other matter.
“Uh-oh is right. While I am well aware that those two can be… rather high-strung, to say the least, they were most displeased with Ava’s progress in her training in etiquette. Each and every day they work with her, only for the lesson to become a farce. She makes a joke of the matter, as if her expected behavior as a member of the royal family is some sort of jest.”
“It’s understandable.”
He glanced ever so slightly in my direction. “Understandable? Would you care to explain your reasoning?”
I sipped my whiskey, giving myself a moment to put my thoughts into words.
“Ava is out of her element. She’s been removed from her life in America, where she could make her own decisions and do whatever she pleased, and been brought here, a place where all sorts of things are expected of her. I can’t think of greater opposites than tradition and in-the-moment individuality.”
Alaric took another sip of his wine, considering my words.
“So, you think she’s hopeless? That America made her into something completely incompatible with the life of a princess?”
“That’s not what I think at all. More that it’s hard for someone like her to come to a place where she’s not allowed to make decisions for herself, where she’s expected to follow rules and protocol that have been around for hundreds and hundreds of years. It’s completely expected that she would rebel against this during her lessons.”
“I supposed that makes sense. All the same, she is not making the sorts of strides I’d expect out of her. She needs to be ready for the ball, ready to be presented to the kingdom.”
“And there’s something else, Alaric.”
He regarded me with an expression of mild confusion. “How do you mean?”
“Perhaps you’re approaching this from the wrong angle. Ava has just learned about all of this, about this part of her. Before last week, she had no idea who her father was, let alone that he was aking. Perhaps your expectations of her are getting in the way of what your goal should be—to get to know her, to show her that Edoria isn’t some strange world she’s been pulled into, but her home.”
