Winter Wedding For The Prince

Armando, remarrying.

She shouldn’t have been surprised. Royalty lived a different kind of life than commoners like her. Marriages were arranged for all kinds of reasons: trade relations, military alliances. Why not to secure an heir?

The news still made her queasy. It was too quick. Armando wasn’t the type to make rash decisions. For crying out loud, he’d waited a year before proposing to her sister, and they’d fallen in love at first sight. For him to wake up and decide he was going to marry a virtual stranger was completely out of character, looming scandal or no looming scandal. At the very least, he would have asked her what she thought.

But he hadn’t. He hadn’t sought her opinion at all. So much for being his right hand. Apparently the familiarity she thought they had developed over the past three years had been in her head.

She forced a smile. Pretended she was excited for his news. “I’m sure the people of Corinthia will be thrilled. As will your father.”

“I’m not doing this for my father,” he replied.

“I know. You’re doing it to protect your sister.”

“No, I’m doing it for Corinthia.” His voice was sharp, the way it always was when his will was questioned. “I’m first in line. It is my responsibility to do whatever I can to ensure Corinthia has a long and peaceful future.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.” If there was anything Armando took seriously, it was his duty to his country.

Leaving Armando, she stood and walked toward the windows. The crown prince’s suite overlooked the south lawn. The famed topiary menagerie remained green, but the grass had gone brown from the winter, and the flowerbeds were empty. Across the street, a pair of business owners were filling their outside window boxes with fresh evergreen—a Corinthian Christmas tradition. When they finished, a single white candle would be placed in the center, another tradition. Greens for life, light for the blessings of the future.

Apparently, Armando’s future involved a bride.

What did that mean for her future then? For three years, it had been the two of them, prince and assistant, tied together as they both began lives without their spouses. Being there to help Armando had given her strength and purpose. She’d been able to rebuild the layers of self-esteem Fredo had destroyed.

What now? A new queen would mean new staff, new routines. Would she even have a place in Armando’s life anymore? The grip on her chest squeezed tighter.

She watched as a merli poked at the barren grass looking for seeds. Poor little creature wasn’t having much luck. She could identify. She felt a little like she’d been left wanting, too.

The thing was, she had always known there was the chance Armando would move on with his life. The news shouldn’t be this disconcerting.

Then again, he should have told her. They were supposed to be friends. Family. They’d held hands at her sister’s bedside and cried together. She let him drink her coffee, for God’s sake. Why hadn’t he told her?

“When are you making the announcement?” she asked. It would have to be soon if Armando wanted to draw attention from his sister. Depending upon how far along in her pregnancy Arianna had been when she met Max last month, there was a good chance the princess would start to show soon.

Behind her, she heard the soft clap of a cup against the coffee table, but she didn’t turn around.

“We’re making the formal announcement on New Year’s Day.”

What? When she thought soon, she didn’t mean that soon. No wonder she couldn’t breathe. In three and a half weeks, everything she’d come to know and rely on was going to change forever.

“Is everything all right?” she heard him ask.

“Of course,” she lied. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It truly is the best solution.”

“I know.” He had no reason to defend himself any more than she had the right to be upset.

Clearly, that didn’t stop either of them from doing so anyway.

* * *

She was upset with him. Armando could tell because when she spoke, every third or fourth word had an upward inflection. Not that he was surprised. From the moment he made his decision, he’d worried she might see his remarrying as betraying her sister.

Staring at her back, he wished he knew what she was thinking. But then, she was good at hiding behind things. Her poker face was among the best.

“You know that if there was any other way...” he said.

“I know.”

Did she? Did she know he’d been up half the night weighing options, or that, given his druthers, he would never remarry? He’d had his chance at love. Four wonderful years with the girl of his dreams. If the price for those years was spending the rest of his life in solitude, he’d been prepared. He didn’t mind. After all, if he needed a companion, he had Rosa. She was better company than any consort might be.

Unfortunately, for men like him, what he wanted didn’t always matter. The mantle of responsibility outweighed personal desire every time.

Leaving his coffee behind, he joined her at the window. “Corinthia’s almost ready for the holiday,” he said, noting the men arranging greenery outside. “They’ll be lighting the candles tonight.”

Rosa didn’t answer. She stood with her hands clasped tightly behind her back, stiff and formal, like a proper royal servant, a pose she usually only struck in public. Armando didn’t like it. He preferred the relaxed, irreverent Rosa who kept him on his toes and saved him from drowning in his grief.

After Christina died, he’d wanted to die, too. What good was living if his heart lay six feet underground? Rosa had been the only one who had been able to break through the darkness that filled his soul. She needed him, she’d claimed, to help her rebuild following her divorce. It was a lie, of course—Rosa was one of the strongest women he knew—but he let her think he believed the excuse. Helping her find a lawyer and place to live gave him a reason to drag himself out of bed that first day. Then, when she became his assistant, there were meetings and charitable initiatives and other projects she insisted needed his attention, and so he continued dragging himself out of bed. Until the day came when getting up was no longer a trial.

She’d kept him tied to the land of the living, Rosa did. Without her, he would still be lost in his grief. Or rather, lost even deeper.

Which was why he needed her support now.

“You never met my grandfather, did you?”

“King Damian? No.” She wasn’t so annoyed that she couldn’t give him a side-eyed look. Of course she hadn’t met the man. Illness forced him off the throne before Armando was born.

“He came upstairs to my room one night, a few weeks before he died, and got me out of bed so I could see what it looked like with candles lit in every window. I must have been seven or eight at the time. Corinthia City wasn’t as developed as it is now. Anyway, he told me how all those candles represented Corinthians hoping for the future. ‘One day you will be responsible for those candles,’ he told me. ‘It will be up to you to keep them burning bright.’ I never forgot.” The words were the weight pressing on his shoulders every time he saw a candle flickering.

He turned to look at his sister-in-law. “Father’s aging, Rosa. I could see it this past month when Arianna disappeared. He’s never truly gotten over Mama’s death...” He paused to let the irony of his words settle between them. The curse of the Santoro men: to live a lifetime of grieving. “And I think he would like to step down, but he’s afraid for the future. It’s important he know that as his successor, I am willing to do whatever it takes to keep those lights burning.”

“Including political marriage.”

He shrugged. “Ours won’t be the first royal marriage based on obligation rather than love.” If anything, a man in his position was lucky to have spent four years with a wife he did love. “It would be nice, however, to know I have my best friend’s support. Do I?”

The clock on the nearby mantel ticked off the seconds while he waited for her response. Unfortunately, her eyes were cast downward. They were the one feature that couldn’t mask her feelings. In that way, she was like her sister. Christina had also had expressive brown eyes. Beyond their eyes, however, the two were dramatically different. Christina had been all passion and energy, with a beauty that commanded attention. Rosa was softer. Whereas Christina was bright like a star, her sister was more the glow of a candle.

Finally, her shoulders relaxed. “Of course you have my blessing,” she said. “You know I can never say no to you.”

Armando’s shoulders relaxed in turn. “I know. It’s my charm.”

“No, it’s because you’re going to be king. I say no and you might have me thrown in the dungeon.”

“As one does.” He relaxed a little more. Rosa making jokes was always a good sign. “I’m serious, Rosa. Your support is important to me.” Just thinking he might not have it had left a tight knot in the center of his chest.

A hand brushed his arm. Initiating contact with a member of the royal family was considered a violation of protocol, but he and Rosa had been together too long for either of them to care about rules. There were times, in fact, when he found her touch comforting. Like now, the way her fingertips seemed to brush the tension from his muscles. “You have it. Seriously. I just wish...”

“What?”