Page 34 of Thrones We Steal

“What exactly is in there?”

She waves her hand like I’ve just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. “Nothing but a pair of harmless edible crabs.”

“Oh, is that all? I opt to hold the bucket, thank you very much.” I grab the handle of the pail.

Adelaide chuckles, then, bending over so she can reach it, she slowly sticks her hand into the narrow nook. Several seconds later, she pulls it out again, and a large brown crab is clutched between her fingers. She grins victoriously and says, “There’s the female.” She drops it into the bucket and reaches back in. “Now, for your husband.”

Several crabs later, we venture further down the shoreline toward what she calls a mussel patch. “All right, poppet. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

How do I even begin? “You’ve seen the news?”

“I can’t imagine there’s a person in Wesbourne that hasn’t.”

“Parliament has a plan they think will bring a ceasefire.”

Her eyebrows meet together above her sharp eyes, and she studies my face. “What kind of plan are we talking about?”

I can’t ask for a more trustworthy confidante. Her work in politics depended upon her ability to retain confidential information. Even now, years later, she still holds a myriad of governmental secrets. May as well cut right to it.

“They want Henry and I to get married and ascend the throne. In three months.”

If she’s shocked by my statement, she doesn’t show it. Her face remains as expressionless as the rocks surrounding us. She turns toward a large outcropping on our left that’s covered in mussels and says, “Ah, look at all of these scrummy fellows.”

She has either chosen to ignore what I said or is taking time to process it.

“Several things about collecting mussels,” she says. “Only take the biggest one from the patch.”

I nod in agreement. It’s the first rule in responsible foraging: never take everything.

“Secondly, try to keep the beard on the mussel as you’re removing it from the rock. If you pull the beard off, you kill the mussel.” She demonstrates by carefully prying a large black shell from the rock face. A brown, hair-like clump remains attached to the creature. She tosses it into the bucket of seawater at our feet. “Your turn.”

I follow her directions and climb over to a patch of mussels on the other side of the outcropping. I gently tug on the mussel, and a ridiculously large amount of euphoria shoots through me when it comes loose, stringy beard still in place.

Adelaide’s grin is congratulations enough. We continue scouring the shore for more mussels and stop once we’ve collected several dozen. She sets the bucket down and sits on a mussel-free rock.

“I’d have to be stupid not to deduce why you’re here.”

I perch beside her on the rock and wipe my wet hands on my jeans. “Does it make me a terrible person if I don’t know what to do?”

“Don’t be absurd. It only makes you human.”

“How do I choose between two rights?”

“Once you figure it out, let me know.”

“My mother thinks I should do it.”

“Of course she does. Rosalind would wither away if she didn’t have ambition to keep her alive.” She pins me with her sharp eyes. “But that doesn’t mean you should.”

“In some ways, having a choice makes it even worse. If they had just told me I had to do this, at least I could avoid all of this agonization.”

“It wouldn’t be like our government to make things easy, would it? What’s your heart telling you?”

I pick a piece of seaweed off the rock and drag my fingers through it. “Depends on which side you ask. Part of me can’t imagine leaving Wesbourne to ruin if it’s in my power to potentially save her. And of course there’s the lure of being queen, of finally making a difference. The other part of me—” My voice breaks and I take a stabilizing breath. “The other part is horrified that I’d even consider doing that to Beck. What kind of person am I?”

“You’ve been asked to make a terrible choice. I don’t think there’s a right or a wrong.”

“You’re not the one who has to tell my fiancé I’m considering breaking it off with him so I can marry someone else. Doesn’t the fact that I’m even having this conversation break all of the trust in our relationship? If I decide not to do this, how will our marriage hold up if he knows that I struggled to make up my mind?”

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