Royal Surrender - chapter twelve
One morning in the sleek palace in Enrosadira, surrounded by the high mountains he had always loved—but now only served to remind him that Noe was on the other side of them—Cajetan was sitting at his offices going over the day’s appointments when there was suddenly a great commotion that could mean only one thing.
Like everyone else, he got to his feet and bowed when his mother swept in.
The Queen was not in full regalia, but she was a commanding presence all the same. She cleared the room with a wave of her hand and then sat, beckoning him to do the same.
There, in his own office. But, of course, he obeyed his sovereign.
“I have set up a date for you.” She sounded impatient. “I have left numerous messages with your staff regarding this matter. Why do you look confused?”
Cajetan did not look in the direction of the pile of messages that were sorted on his desk into urgent and nonurgent piles. “How odd.”
His mother gazed at him a moment, no doubt seeing far more than she should. “In any case, I believe we have found the perfect candidate.”
Cajetan was thinking of Noe. It had been a few days since he’d seen her and he was already reaching the end of his tether. She was like air to him.
Fresh, sweet air, clear and bright.
Without her, it was like he was suffocating, even here.
It was difficult to keep his attention on his mother. “The perfect candidate for what?”
The Queen looked nonplussed. “For your wife, Cajetan. How quickly we forget our commitments to the Crown.”
And the truth was, Cajetan had forgotten. Not that he must wed, one day. But that his mother had been making noises about that day being close for some time.
He wanted to tell her that the timing was impossible. He wanted to tell her that there was no need to search, because he’d found the only woman that he could ever —
But he stopped himself. They had not promised each other anything but right now.
“You look shocked, Cajetan,” his mother said coolly. “But we have discussed it since you were small. This cannot come as a surprise, can it?”
“Not at all,” he managed to say. He even smiled. “It is, perhaps, odd to go from one day to today, that is all.”
His mother made a small noise, her version of a tut. “I’ve set up a date. I have had my staff put it directly into your calendar, as yours—apparently—cannot be trusted to give you messages from your sovereign. I expect you to behave with the charm and grace appropriate to your station.”
He could not muster a smile, but he did not drop his mother’s gaze. “When have I not?”
Yet long after she swept out again, he sat there, thinking of Noe. Thinking of his duty. Thinking of the promises he’d been born into and the promises he’d made.
And no longer thinking that his path forward was clear at all.