Over the next week, there were nightly dinners. The maids would pretty her up, and then she’d walk into the grand dining room and try her best to impress the different suitors.
None of them were as vial and wretched as Aiden, but she didn’t like any of them all that much either. They were all arrogant or stupid or mean, but whenever one of them had that glint in their eyes, Nicholas would follow them into the room instead of remaining outside, and Mary was grateful.
In fact, the only thing that got her through that week was Nicholas. She’d remember his voice over dinner, distracting herself by listening to it in her head. She had never heard him speak so much. Her name, occasionally, and the “Yes, sir,” or “No, sir” every once in a while to her father, but that was always brisk and rough and sounded just like every other knight’s voice. That night, his voice had been deep and smooth, the rough edges gone. She had wanted to melt in his voice and in his eyes, concerned and caring, and in his lips on her cheek, soft and light.
That night was the only thing keeping her from going crazy. Every man brought to her was wrong in some way, and she hated all of them.
The next week, her father gave up for a while. He was furious, she could tell, but she was, too, so they just silently agreed not to speak.
Nicholas got his armor that week, and Mary had a fine time with that. She thought it was hilarious, and had a good time flipping the visor on his helmet up and down until she got bored. He would never react, never say or do anything in response to her constant pestering. She didn’t give up though.
She’d sneak up on him sometimes, when she could, popping out of her room unexpectedly and slamming into him. He didn’t budge, but his visor would clang shut and when she was really quiet, he’d jump a little and she’d grin triumphantly.
The next week, George ordered her to another dinner and her raised spirits fell immediately. It’s was Tuesday, snowing, and the palace was cold. She was given a coat to wear to the event this time, and she was grateful, but also scared. The coat was elegant, lined with expensive furs, and the tiara had been replaced with a smaller, more petite one. Her entire outfit had been styled to make her appear innocent and graceful. Before, it had been just pretty and well dressed. Now, there was an angle.
She entered the dining room followed by Nicholas, and noticed the changes immediately. The red velvet covering the table, the candles lit in the sparkling chandelier.
The boy at the table stood, smiling at her shyly, and bowed. She curtsied back automatically, looking over his combed brown hair, his muddy hazel eyes. He was tall, taller than Mary by quite a lot, but not quite as tall as Nicholas. She was guessing he was a year or two older than her.
He walked around the table to where she sat and pulled out her chair for her, taking the coat off her shoulder and laying it across the back of her chair, and she smiled at him gratefully. He grinned back, his cheeks slightly pink, and then hurried back to his own seat.
Her father and the king went through the rituals of telling stories of both her and the boy’s life. His name was James. He was almost as accomplished as the other boy, Aiden, but much less arrogant. They barely looked at each other the entire night, but every time they met each other’s eyes, she would smile and he would too, and then they’d glance away.
George didn’t announce it until after dessert. A small part of her had been warning her to expect the words, but she hadn’t listened to it.
“Mary, you and Prince James are to be married,” he said, a proud grin plastered on his face.
Mary froze, stiffened, and returned her father’s gaze with a cold one of her own. “What?”
James looked at his father as well. She could tell from the look on his face he hadn’t known about this either.
