How Far

Chapter 3

In the long seconds since Natalia had spoken, the surprised expression on Guy's face remained fixed in place, like he was posing for the world's most awkward portrait. She watched his jaw twitch slowly, back and forth, as he tried to remember how it worked and formed words. "What?"

"I need you to marry me." Rephrasing her question didn't make it any less imperative. Her voice remained strong, no trace of her desperation in her request. He blinked at her, a sign that his initial reaction was wearing off, and she knew she had to explain. "If I don't choose someone to marry by my next birthday, the Royal Council will force me to marry someone completely unsuitable." She left Luke out of the equation. Luke was not an option, and she would not complicate things by mentioning him here.

Besides, she wasn't convinced that she wouldn't end up standing next to that odious Alfred Creemore.

"So…." He drew the word out as he assimilated this information. "You choose me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

This was something she'd rehearsed during the long voyage to Grand Chokmah. "A marriage between my country and yours will be beneficial for international relations. We can represent this peace and remind everyone that this time, it can last. We can be the symbol your cousin and General Frings never got to be. And your input from the Malkuth perspective can aid Kimlasca in our future dealings."

"For political reasons, basically."

"Yes, in part. It never hurts to be practical."

"True," he said, nodding. If he had been anyone else, she would have sworn he was mocking her. "What's the other part?"

"Pardon?"

"You said 'in part'. That means there's more to it." Guy shrugged in that nonchalant way of his. If he were mocking her, he was being incredibly subtle about it. "There's any number of Malkuth noblemen who'd be perfectly willing to marry you. Why did you pick me?"

It was a valid point. "Because my family owes you, both for Hod and for the unfair accusations against the Cecilles." Politics had also been the reason for his parents' marriage, and she was determined to right the wrongs done to his family.

"So, guilt."

He always could see through her. "No." Her seated position made her feel vulnerable and insignificant as he stood looking down at her. She was sure that wasn't his intention, but she got to her feet all the same. "Even so, it would go a long way toward making reparations if a Cecille were in position to be king."

He was shaking his head. "No. I don't want that."

She knew he wouldn't, and his refusal made him the ideal candidate. The power hungry nobles would step over themselves to flatter her first and stab her in the back later, destroying everything she and her father had worked so hard to achieve. Guy shared her ideals and her desire to maintain this peace, and she could count on his support without the worry that he would undermine her at every turn to increase his own influence. "Your children, then. If you marry me, the royal line will have Cecille blood."

One of his eyebrows cocked at this, intrigued. "Children. You know that means you and I would have to…."

"Yes, I am aware of that." Natalia's cheeks flushed hotly, but she wouldn't look away. That was something else she'd spent too much time thinking about during the long voyage. Their marriage would have to be consummated, of course, and an heir produced. This fact had not escaped her. The idea of lying with him was embarrassing, although, she had to admit, far from repulsive.

She had to keep her eyes on his, even as her face was burning like a sunset.

"You just thought about it, didn't you?"

"Certainly not." Two sunsets.

He laughed. "Yeah, me too." Unless she was mistaken, his laugh wasn't as casual as he wanted it to be. A careless hand raked through his hair, making it stick out more than usual. "I have to say, that's your most convincing argument so far." Teasing her was second-nature to him, his way of disarming her, but there was something different here, this acknowledgement of an attraction to each other as man and woman. They had flirted before, and often, but always on a superficial level. With the potential—no, the impending reality—of becoming more than friends, there was a new layer rumbling underneath everything they said.

What was she getting herself into?

"Okay, so we've covered politics and guilt and heirs. Anything else?" His clear blue gaze never left her.

Politics and guilt and heirs. Practical, generic reasons that could apply to anyone.

She was fooling herself if she thought those were her only reasons for asking him.

"I've chosen you because I trust you, Guy." Forgetting the practical, political advantages, this was what it all came down to. She trusted him. She respected him. "Because you know me like no one else does." Their friendship may have developed out of odd circumstances, a princess and a servant who were both more and less than they claimed to be, but everything they'd been through together had cemented a bond between them that few others would ever understand. He knew her secrets, and she knew his.

He'd been there when she needed a friend most. Those first nights after Asch died, Guy was the one who had stayed up with her, listening to her, letting her cry on his shoulder, and then, when she was all cried out, getting her drunk and making her laugh.

If he could get her through that, he could get her through anything.

At the heart of it, she didn't want a practical, political marriage. This was going to be for the rest of her life. She wanted someone special by her side. Someone she cared about. "And because… I'm very fond of you, Guy."

He smiled at that, this time with no trace of teasing to be found. This smile was softer, lending an intimacy that wrapped around her, making her feel warm all over. "Now, was that so hard?" Even his voice was softer, lower, a hum that buzzed up and down her spine.

Of course. She'd been appealing to his logical side, when she should have been appealing to his romantic side. Who wanted a proposal that treated the recipient as a commodity? Wouldn't he rather hear that he meant something to her, instead of focusing on what he could do for her? The only way she could have been more impersonal and insulting is if she had sent a messenger with a royal decree. "I'm sorry." She bowed her head briefly in apology before looking at him again. "I should have started with that."

"Nah, it's okay."

"No, it isn't. I've done to you what's being done to me, and I should know better."

He gave a careless shrug. "I'm getting used to it. The families around here see me as a title first and a fortune second. Well, except those that see the fortune first. My being a person doesn't really figure into it."

"Welcome to my world. It's fun, isn't it?" See, she could make sardonic jokes, too. "But, truly, you shouldn't expect that dismissive sort of attitude from me. I'm very sorry."

"I know you didn't mean it that way. Besides, your reasons are compelling, I'll give you that. I'd be an idiot to hold out for a better offer." There was that smile again.

Perhaps she'd like this new layer. Even if they weren't a love match, a match between friends was the next best thing. Some people weren't that lucky. "So, you'll do it?"

He started to say something, then shook his head. "Wait. No. I'm only going to get one chance to do this, so let me do it right."

In his old shirt and grease-streaked pants, in a cluttered room of metal tools and half-finished mystery machines, in a room that smelled faintly of oil and sweat and concentration and other masculine things, he knelt before her. It wasn't anything like she pictured the moment. It wasn't a moment she'd ever pictured at all.

Still, there was a fluttering in her heart, anticipating his words, as he brought her hand to his lips.

"Natalia." His breath was warm and ticklish on her knuckles, and she felt an overwhelming urge to giggle bubble up inside her. She could see the corners of his mouth turn up, and his blue eyes shimmered with something between laughter and seriousness. "Your Highness. With your extraordinary grace and your incomparable beauty, you are unlike any woman I have ever known, and it would be my greatest honor if you would consent to be my wife."

There was a clattering sound as Merton dropped the tea tray.