"Fuck, and here I am whining about my petty problems," Marcellette replied, fanning herself rapidly. "Are you really betrothed to him? Because if so, I highly recommend you go with the living on the streets plan."

"Not officially, but our families have been discussing the matter since we were children. I think they hoped we would become good friends, then lovers, so on and so forth. Unfortunately, Ottokar only loves being a malicious cretin. I am sorry you had to see all that. He's not normally so direct in front of strangers."

Marcellette's mouth pinched. "No, I imagine not. His sort prefer to do their deeds in private, where nobody will catch them out. I wonder what has tipped the scales. Not that it matters, since His Majesty is clearly not about to tolerate his nonsense. He'll definitely want to hear about this, so hopefully he'll join us for drinks like he usually does after these meetings."

Amador had never been so certain of something in his life as he was certain that he absolutely did not want to sit there and whine to Sohan about his stupid problem with Ottokar, spilling the whole, sad, pathetic story of his lifelong torment in front of an even bigger audience. Hadn't he already been made a fool of enough?

"Thank you, but I'm afraid I will have to refuse the offer after all. There are some matters I need to attend."

"What?" Marcellette's face fell. "What matters—"

"Pardon me, please," Amador said, and all but fled down the first turn he came to, barely noticing the bodyguards keeping pace, fleeing Marcellette calling after him.

He could only endure so much in one day, and the pond had been enough humiliation to last him the whole year. The very last thing his day needed was the abject pity that would fill Sohan's face as he listened to a recounting of the latest encounter with Ottokar.

What did it say about Amador that he could not get rid of the man who pursued him for the thrill of torment and rush of power, but could not get one person in several kingdoms to even consider him a marriage prospect? Why couldn't someone chase him with roses and gifts, eager to shower him in love and affection? Why was his most ardent pursuer a mean-hearted bully?

Back in his room, Amador changed out of his finer garments and into clothes more suited to long hours in a library, more relaxed in fit, sedate colors with little trim or decoration, the kind of clothes he could afford to have covered in ink and dust and other hazards that came with combing a library for hours on end.

Because he might not know a single damned thing about putting his own life in order, but he knew taxes and all the other boring rules and regulations that ran a country, and he suspected that might be the key to bridging the divide between a stubborn noblewoman and an even more stubborn royal guard.

First, though, he would need to do some research. This he was good at. This he could do.

Feeling somewhat heartened, if lonelier than ever, Amador headed out in search of the palace library.

Amador spent three days in the library doing research, starting with Pelletier, pulling out one book after another to learn the land and lineage in as much detail as the library could provide.

It was indeed a shockingly impressive territory for a baron. That was just as it was, not including all the potential it had, which was probably what truly drew all the councilors. Honestly, he was surprised only that they weren't fighting more viciously over it.

When he had the basics of Pelletier roughed out, he turned to his greatest strength, the place he was likeliest to find a weakness he could exploit: taxes. People like Lipovsky always either shamelessly avoided paying taxes, or left the problem entirely in the hands of whatever clerk or clerks they hired. In either case, something was always amiss.

Thankfully, like back home, tax records here were compiled and stored in the library. Unfortunately, they were kept in a restricted area. Well, only one way to learn what he would need to gain access. Approaching the main desk, Amador bowed his head in greeting to the librarian there. "Good afternoon, mistress. I wanted to know what is entailed in gaining access to the restricted areas."

The woman's cheeks flushed as she gave a small laugh. "Oh, His Majesty gave orders you were to have access to whatever you like, Your Highness."

Amador opened his mouth, then closed it. "He did?"

Tittering, the woman slid a key across the desk. "Yes, Your Highness. Did you not know? He issued a statement across the palace that you were to be treated as his personal guest. Keep that key as long as you're here, or until you'll no longer be needing it."

"I, uh, see. Thank you very much."

Utterly bemused, Amador retreated to the restricted section, where it didn't take him long to locate the tax records for the Pelletier Estate and Lipovsky's personal taxes. Carrying the enormous, heavy ledgers to the table he'd commandeered, he fetched his writing case and set out paper, pens, and various colors of ink.

By the third day, he was ready for the final stage. With ledgers on one side, and tax law books on the other, Amador set to work on gathering information and formulating a plan.

Taxes, always taxes. It didn't matter who they were, how powerful, how wealthy, there was always a flaw or weakness to be found in the taxes.

In Lipovsky's case, they were in arrears, though it looked like that was due to simple negligence rather than willful greed. He was also set to take a significant blow if the Filandra Amendment passed with the requirement that all dodged taxes be paid, which seemed the likeliest outcome, despite the efforts of various nobles, merchants, and robber barons.

Amador's stomach growled, but he ignored it, far more interested in pulling a fresh sheet of paper close and mapping out the rough details of his idea. He would need to hire someone to draft the actual contract, but that shouldn't be difficult. Notaries shouldn't be difficult either. No, the hardest part would be securing an appointment with Lipovsky, but Amador already had thoughts…

A sudden ruckus from the main section of the library broke his concentration. Curiosity piqued, Amador pushed away from the table and strode off between two looming stacks to see what the fuss was all about. His bodyguards remained where they were, which honestly in retrospect should have tipped him off.

In the center of the main space, surrounded by bodyguards, clerks, and librarians, was Sohan. His smile as he spoke with the head librarian made Amador's stomach flip, and he didn't think he was the only one who thought it lit up the room.

Amador couldn't see his beautiful eyes from here, alas, but there was still plenty to admire. Plenty to remember, like how it felt to be held, to feel safe. He could only imagine how it felt to be held like he was wanted.

He pushed the futile thought away before it could hurt him. He'd traveled the world in search of a prince or princess who would marry him. Not a single one had even come close. If he couldn't catch a prince, why in the world would he be able to catch a king?