Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I found my father in his office, hiding from the chaos behind a towering stack of books and paperwork. I hesitated in the doorway, afraid to interrupt his work, until I glimpsed the corner of a tea service half hidden behind one pile. His head jerked up, crumbs scattered through his beard and mustache, eyes wide with alarm. When he saw it was just me, he relaxed, washed down his cookie with a mouthful of tea, and said, “Close the door, Freddy, before someone catches us.”

I closed the door and sat in the visitor’s chair, only realizing after I’d settled in that I couldn’t see him over the books. He started to rearrange them and instead toppled one of the piles onto the floor. “Gods dammit!”

Sighing, I picked up my chair and shifted it to the left so we could see each other. Except he’d ducked down to pick up the books on the right side and was swearing mildly under his breath.

“Father.”

He craned his neck and peeked over the edge of the desk. “Son.”

“We need to talk about the wedding.”

Father grimaced and sat back in his seat, leaving the scattered books on the floor. “I know exactly what you want to say.”

“You do?” Maybe Franny had told him about our conversation.

He nodded solemnly. “And you have my full support.”

My shoulders slumped in relief, and I smiled at him. “That’s great. I was afraid it wouldn’t work.”

“Well, you should probably leave before your mother finds out.”

“Finds out?” I asked, ricocheting between confusion and understanding and back again with enough speed to make my head hurt. “I’m not trying to hide anything from her.”

“You probably should,” Father replied solemnly. “She wouldn’t understand.”

“I know this marriage has been arranged since Franny’s birth—”

“Exactly, which means your mother is very stressed right now, and it’s best to stay out of her way. Make an appearance at the feast tomorrow and for the rehearsal, but other than that, you should retreat to your tower until the wedding.”

“Oh,” I said, then shook my head. “Wait, no, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

Father waved my protest away. “I don’t blame you one bit. I’d leave if I could. Best I can do is hole up in here when they don’t need anything from me.”

“No, really, I—”

“And Franny will be too busy with her new groom anyway, she won’t have time to entertain you.” He stood up and clapped me on the shoulder.

“Groom!” I said, latching onto the word. “I wanted to talk to you about her groom!”

“Brendon?” Father asked, one eyebrow raised. He walked toward the door, and I naturally stood up and followed him. “Nothing to be concerned about there, I’m sure he’s a great man.”

“Well, that’s the problem. The man part, I mean, because Franny—” I snapped my mouth shut, realizing that in order to tell my father the problem, I would have to out Franny. My parents didn’t have the … best reaction to learning I was gay, though that may have been more how they found out. I didn’t know how much they knew about Franny, but it was her decision whether or not to share her sexuality with them.

“I know they haven’t met yet,” Father said as he opened the door. “Neither did your mother and I before we married, and we’ve developed a wonderful partnership these last thirty years. I’m sure Franny and Brendon will do the same.”

“But—” I blinked in shock as the door closed in my face. I hadn’t even remembered stepping through it. “Father!”

A frazzled maid almost ran into me, arms full of tablecloths. “Is the king in his study?” she asked, blowing a stray curl out of her eyes. It landed right back in her face, and she kept blowing on it between words. “The queen wants his opinion on which tablecloths to use—the cream, the champagne, or the buttermilk.”

If I let her into the office, she’d probably talk his ear off for an hour. It’d serve him right for dismissing me without even listening, but I took pity on him. “No, I couldn’t find him.”

She shrugged and asked. “Well, what do you think? I need someone’s opinion.” She started to unfold them to show me all of the differences.

I waved her away and said, “Just go with the cream.” Before she could scurry off again, I asked, “Do you know where my mother is?”

“Kitchen, last I saw her, finalizing the feast’s menu.”

I thanked her and hurried in that direction, afraid I’d miss my mother if I wasted any time.

Mother sat at one of the kitchen tables with the head chef, arguing about the merits of parsnips and potatoes. She glanced at me in the doorway and her lips turned down in a frown. “Excuse me.”

Picking up her skirts, she walked to me and asked, “Is there something you need, Frederick?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” I whispered. “Somewhere private?”

Mother nodded and called out to the chef that we would be commandeering his office. Once the door was closed, she turned to face me, arms crossed over her chest. Her head barely reached my shoulder, but I still always felt like a small child around her. “What is this about?”

“I think we should postpone the wedding,” I blurted out.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “No.”

That was it. No questions, no confusion, just a flat refusal. “Not forever,” I said. “But I think everything’s moving too quickly. Franny and Branton—”

“Brendon.”

“—haven’t even met yet.”

“They will tomorrow.”

“And then get married in a week!”

Mother tapped her fingers on her arm in a short, angry staccato. “Why are you voicing these objections now? This wedding has been planned for years.”

“I hadn’t thought about it until today,” I muttered, still trying to avoid explaining exactly what had changed my mind. “I just think we should consider other options.”

“There are no other options. This wedding is the only way to keep our kingdom safe.”

“But what if I—”

“No,” she repeated, sounding even more final than the first. “I know you’ve had your disappointments, but you can’t stand in the way of your sister’s future happiness.”

The words landed like a blow. Did she really think I was trying to stop the wedding because I was jealous? “I’m not trying to—”

“Frederick, enough of this nonsense,” she snapped.

I flinched and looked away from her.

“I forbid you from interfering with this wedding. In fact, I would prefer you keep your distance from Brendon.” Her voice softened as she added, “I suggest you find some way to occupy yourself, take your mind off these unnecessary worries.”

She floated out of the room, ever graceful and poised, no traces of our argument lingering in her stance or smile. After all, she’d clearly thought she’d won—that I would give up and obey her, leaving Franny to the fate she’d accepted long ago.

But one other person had a say in the wedding.