Bas laughed loudly, and people turned to look, their expressions as surprised as Leo felt.
No one was happier for Bas than Leo, but he’d be much happier when the ceremonies finally ended and Bas and Eliza turned their attention to the important task of creating heirs. He’d be wild with joy when he could divest himself of this bothersome neckcloth and the bloody weight of these medals, and perhaps take a headache powder. But until that last congratulatory remark had been made, the last gift received, the last cake cut and the last dance danced, he had to endure the attentions of parents and unmarried women, all of them eager to make an advantageous match. All of them eager to do for their daughters what Eliza Tricklebank had done all on her own.
Speaking of Eliza, she had made her way through the throng of guests with her companions in tow. “You must try the champagne!” she said, holding a flute aloft to Bas. “It’s very fine.”
“Ah, the gift from the French ambassador,” Bas said.
“That kind man? He also sent the wine, didn’t he? We must make friends with him right away,” Eliza declared, and looked around them, as if seeking the gentleman.
This did not appear to be Eliza’s first glass of fine champagne of the day.
“Here we all are, like a band of merry troubadours!” Hawke’s sister announced and looped her arm around Eliza’s shoulders. Her eyes were on Leo, twinkling with what he suspected was at least as much champagne as Eliza had enjoyed. “Well, Your Highness?” she asked Leo. “What did you think? The ceremony was perfection, wasn’t it?”
“It was, je,” he confirmed. He wondered how long he would be forced to make proper small talk before he could make his escape.
“I’m so glad you thought so! I fretted for you—you looked rather glum standing there beside your brother.”
He had to think a moment about what she’d said. He’d looked glum? “Pardon?”
“Caro!” Eliza said with a bit of a laugh. “What a thing to say!”
“It’s true!”
“I am certain His Highness’s nerves were on edge, like mine,” Mrs. Honeycutt said. “It’s terrifying to stand before all those people.”
This amused Bas, and he looked at his brother. “Were you terrified, Leo?” he asked with a wink.
Leo had not been terrified. He’d been trying to remain upright, frankly. “I was observing the solemnity of the occasion.”
“The solemnity!” Hawke’s sister laughed as if he’d meant that to be amusing. “But it is a joyous occasion! It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen our dearest Eliza. So happy that it made me long for the same.”
“The same what?” Eliza asked.
“The same as you, darling! A stroll down the aisle in a stunning gown, like you, on the arm of a handsome gentleman. Like you.” She winked.
No one said anything. Leo was astonished. Who spoke like that, laying her feelings so bare to all and everyone?
Hawke’s sister looked around at them all, noting their surprise. “What? Am I not to imagine it?” She laughed. Before anyone could think of a suitable response, she said, “Were the flower girls not adorable?” She looked directly at Leo, as if she expected him to answer.
What was the matter with this woman? Why was she speaking to him of these things? But now they all turned to look at Leo, as if they wished to know his opinion of the young girls that he’d scarcely even noticed. Bas smiled devilishly, enjoying this attention to Leo.
“I, ah...je. From what I recall,” he muttered, and looked away from Hawke’s sister.
But she was undaunted and continued to natter on, as he was learning she was wont to do. “I had said to Eliza that she ought to have bridesmaids, but she said it is the custom here for flower girls, and I wondered how that would appear in a venue so grand as the cathedral, but I must admit I—”
“I beg your pardon,” said a deep male voice.
Leo hadn’t seen his father join the group until he stepped up behind Hawke’s sister. She at least had the sense to stop talking when the king made an appearance. She moved aside and curtsied. “Your Majesty,” she said solemnly.
“I have no wish to interrupt your celebration, but I should like a word with my son, if I may?”
“Of course,” Bas said.
“Not you, Sebastian—enjoy the reception. My other son,” his father said, and smiled at Leo.
Leo was instantly suspicious. He glanced curiously at his smiling father, thinking he should have made his escape sooner. His father rarely needed to speak to him alone, saving his weighty conversations for Bas.
“Well, Leopold?”
“Je,” he said, and with a nod to the others, he joined his father and moved away from the group.
The king’s eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile as they strolled away, generally an indication that he was in a very good mood. As if to confirm it, he said, “The day has been excellent in every way. Your mother and I could not be happier that our Bas is, at long last, married.” He smiled again but turned his head and looked at Leo.
The slightly calculated curve of that smile caused a small knot to form in Leo’s stomach. He was usually quite adept at avoiding the conversation he knew was about to burst forth from his father’s mouth, but with all the wedding celebrations and drink and that beautifully annoying woman talking about flower girls, of all things, his reflexes seemed to be compromised.
His father stopped near one of the large windows. On the grounds, enormous crowds were still milling about, hoping for another sight of the newlyweds.
“Now the crown prince has married,” his father said, shifting closer to Leo, still smiling, “your mother and I might turn our attention to you.”
“What? Me?” Leo felt exposed, as if he’d gone off to war without any armor or even a sword. “I’m...I’m to England in two days,” he quickly reminded his father.
His father’s smile did not waver. He gestured to a passing footman, took two flutes of champagne from his tray and handed one to Leo. Leo didn’t realize he’d even taken the glass until he saw it in his hand. He was flat-footed, taken aback that his father would use the opportunity of Bas’s private wedding reception, with the ink not yet dry on the marriage registry, to beat this drum for him.
“Hear me out, Leopold,” his father said congenially, and drew him even farther aside. “I want this to be as easy and painless as possible for you. There have already been discussions.”
Both of those things sounded alarm bells in his brain. Big brass bells, clanging loudly. His marriage would be easy and painless? The king made it sound as if Leo were a dog to be put down—Leo saw nothing easy or painless about shackling himself for the rest of his life to a woman he hardly knew. There had already been discussions? With whom? Certainly not him. “I would like to—”
“We have made some progress with Wesloria, have we not?” his father quickly continued before Leo could beg off from the discussion.
The knot in his belly tightened. Had they made progress, really? It hadn’t even been a year since some Weslorians and traitorous Alucians had plotted to kidnap Bas. The two nations had a history of war and distrust, but his father was referring to recent attempts to ease the ongoing tensions between the neighboring kingdoms.
At the crux of the dispute were two royal half brothers. When Leo’s father, Karl, had taken the throne some forty years ago, Uncle Felix had been banished from Alucia...mainly because he believed he had a more legitimate claim to the throne than Karl did.
The question of the rightful succession had its roots in a sixteenth-century civil war, when a Chartier had first assumed the throne. Felix’s ancestors, the Oberons, had lost that war and retreated to Wesloria, propping up Weslorian kings and nobles along the way. They’d long held that the Chartier claim to rule Alucia was not as legitimate as theirs, and military skirmishes along the border had been plaguing the countries for years.