Page 14 of The Winter Princess
Again, my frustration with my adopted homeland finds an outlet in Freja. “My apologies, princess. You’re so proud of your Pavian heritage, the people of Sondmark never hear the end of it.”
Her mouth tenses and I resist the bizarre impulse to smooth my thumb across her lip. I shake my head. Of all the people in the world to form an alliance with, Freja—a Sondish princess, I remind myself—should be my last choice.
“With your family connections, I’m sure you’ll do fine without me,” I say, shifting my weight.
Her grip tightens and I feel it in my chest.
“Stultes es. Can you choke down some of your own medicine?” she asks, jerking her head toward the conference room again. “You don’t have friends in there, and no one cares about your department because you’ve made yourself as pleasant as a case of leprosy. They won’t care about the importance of your job here unless you tell them why they have to. You’ve never been in a rush to do that.” She rakes a glance over my face. “If anyone needs an ally, it’s you.”
During her speech, she’s narrowed the distance between us, and I feel an unaccountable thickness in my veins. I shift and her hand falls away. Just because I don’t want her to be right, doesn’t mean she isn’t. Damn.
“No need to beg,” I say. “If you need me to, I’ll make sure you have time to explain why staging the exhibit in the middle of a financial meltdown is a brilliant idea.”
Freja breathes deeply, collecting herself fraction by fraction. “I only wanted to know what you were going to say.”
“That’s all you wanted?”
Another breath, then she seems to come to a decision. “I want time to make my case. If you make sure I get it, I’ll remind the board—with whom I’ve cultivated good working relationships—that restoration is indispensable. I’ll back you up.”
I’ve kept my distance from our princess for three years, and our borders are crumbling in a single morning. I’m a young boy with an arm full of apples and a face full of the setting sun. Greedy. Tempted.
I take her hand and straighten. “We have a deal.”
6
Math Facts
FREJA
I don’t like his tone, I don’t know about an alliance, and I don’t love that my ability to breathe evaporates at his touch. I reclaim my hand, dragging my attention from the Head of Restoration so painstakingly that it feels like I’m unweaving a length of cloth, strand by strand.
“Deal,” I say, the word drawn out in indecision.
He nods. “Here’s to being resentful allies in a time of crisis.”
My nod answers his. We don’t like each other—that hasn’t changed—but the sense of being opposite poles, forever pushing away from connection, has been lost somewhere between me crashing into his chest last night and our hands clasped between us right now. I feel it in my fingertips. We are allies. We.
Our gazes meet and hold, broken only when Rik’s strident bellow reaches us in the cubicle. “Let the whole thing fall down around yourflamenears, if you like.”
Oskar gestures for me to proceed, and I cross the threshold of the conference room to hear Agnes’s equally impassioned reply. “I need those relationships with the university. Years of work can’t just be tossed aside. No.” She bangs the table. “No. The best thing is to trim the fat. Maybe if we stop buying new things.” She sends a withering glare to Roland.
Roland looks alarmed to be caught up in the volume of the discussion. “There’s no fat to trim. Curation hasn’t made a new purchase in three years, and we sold off an extensive collection of bronze statuary last year.”
Finally, Rik’s glare lands on Oskar. “Will you look at that? Your Most Reverend Excellency has finally condescended to join us.” His chair skitters back as he performs an elaborate bow.
Rik’s mangled honorifics have managed to insult both the Prince-Bishop of Handsel—a lovely man of the cloth with a harmless passion for miniature landscape painting—and Oskar.
I learned diplomacy from my mother as she forged the North Sea Confederation. She would tell me that every good alliance begins by building trust.Though I have no love for Oskar Velasquez, we’ve formed a mutual non-aggression pact, and in this hour, we’ve promised to fight back-to-back.
I lift my chin. “No need for such deference, Rik. You may call me ma’am.”
He sputters. “I didn’t mean you…ma’am. I meant the—”
My eyes widen with innocence. “Didn’t you?” I glance around as though I’ve misplaced Oskar, as though I didn’t threaten to drag him here and he didn’t call me a—what was the word?Audicia.“NeerVelasquez,” I touch the back of a chair next to mine, “your place is here.”
“Anyway, you’re late,” Rik growls, striking the table. “We’re talking budget cuts, and the way I see it, we furlough the restoration team until we’re in the clear again.” He gives a low whistle, hands punching through the air as though clearing an obstruction in a drainpipe.
Oskar moves past and my nose chases the scent of fresh pine needles blanketing a forest floor.Stop it, Freja.Stop noticing.
