Page 43 of Innocent in the Prince's Bed

‘What kind of laws?’ They were talking softly now, just the two of them lying close on the pillows, the afternoon lazy around them.

It was easier to talk about the laws in general than to talk about his exile. ‘Laws that require nobles to marry for the good the kingdom. Our Tsar must sanction each marriage. It started merely as coming forward and asking for approval, a formality. But it has become much more than that. The Tsar and the great families arrange every marriage now. No one comes forward any more, each match is presented to the family. The choice to refuse is an illusion. Refusal can result in a family being stripped of royal favour, of their worldly possessions. The more pristine the daughter is, the better the marriage alliance for the family can be. Families have gone to great lengths to ensure a daughter’s purity.’ That was as far he’d go with what he’d witnessed.

‘It is different than here in intensity, then, but not in intent.’ Dove was thoughtful. ‘I think it was right that you stood up to that. People should be able to choose their own futures, their own mates.’ Her grey eyes held his, revealing the depths of her emotions. ‘Perhaps that time will come if people like you are willing to fight for it.’

‘Will you fight for it, Dove?’

She dropped her gaze. ‘I don’t know how. It’s more complicated than saying no. Refusing hurts my parents, shames them. How can I do that to them?’

Debate welled up in Illarion. He wanted to argue. ‘Your life is no small consideration.’ Could she not see that her freedom had value? ‘You do not have to give your life for them.’

‘Don’t I?’ Dove’s answer was quick and selfless, showing a maturity beyond her innocent years. ‘They’ve given their lives for me. Should I not reciprocate?’ She puckered her brow here, deep in thought. ‘Do you know why I don’t have close friends? Because I was sheltered. I lived in isolation. My parents were my friends, the only people I associated with, except when we went to church on Sundays. There were visits from cousins during the summers, but I never returned those visits, I never went to their estates. I was the last of five children, Illarion.’

A suspicion began to take cold hold in his stomach. ‘Five? I thought you were an only child.’ Hadn’t the gossip about her debut suggested she was Redruth’s only offspring? But she had not said youngest, only last.

‘I had four older brothers.’ Sadness tinged her sleepy gaze. ‘I never knew any of them. They were all dead before I was born; two from random fevers, one at birth, one stopped breathing in his cradle after two perfectly fine months of life.’ Her voice caught.

Illarion drew her to him. He wanted her to stop, wanted to spare her the pain. ‘You don’t have to say any more.’

‘Yes, I do,’ she murmured against his shoulder. ‘I need you to understand that it can’t be yes or no for me. It is so much more complicated than that. I owe my parents. I am the one who survived. I am the one who must make good on their hopes, on their legacy. I am the only one who can do it.’ He heard the anger in her words—for her parents, for him because he wanted her to reconsider, and for herself, because she could find no legitimate grounds on which to reconsider her choice.

She pulled back from him. ‘What becomes of me if I refuse Percivale? Refusing him costs me everything.’ Except her freedom.

‘What becomes of you if you accept him?’ Illarion challenged softly but carefully.

‘Illarion, don’t. Do you think I haven’t thought of that?’ she whispered. He let the argument go because he had no answer either. She smiled, perhaps in apology, and stood up, her hands starting to work her hair back into some order, a sure signal that the interlude was over. ‘Perhaps we might draw and write a little before the others come back?’ she suggested.

It was as good a solution as any. They settled in on their respective pillows, Dove with her new art case open on her lap, a private smile on her lips as she took out a pencil, he with a fresh tablet, his head full of ideas. At least the ideas came more easily these days, even if the poetry to express them still struggled.

---