Ximena and Mara exchange a puzzled look.
Something about his frankness pleases me. I say, “Conde, I need your help.”
His gaze snaps to mine. “Oh?”
“How many people know about you and Iladro?”
“Not many. My mother. A few attendants.”
“Good. I need a reason to . . .” I almost say “escape.” “To leave the city and go south. I also need the Quorum—no, the whole country—to believe I am very serious about selecting a husband.”
His eyes flash with understanding. “You want to pretend we are betrothed.”
“Or at least pretend to begin negotiations. Which, of course, would require that I visit Selvarica and inspect your holdings.”
“Of course. I assume that, after an acceptable period of time, we would regretfully conclude that we are not as compatible as we had hoped?”
“It might be a long period of time. But yes.”
“And if I don’t agree to this? Will you expose me for the liar I am?”
“No.”
He stares at me.
“I’m not interested in that. If you don’t want to help me, you are free to go.” I shrug nonchalantly. “Though if you tell anyone about this conversation, I will destroy you.”
He cracks a relieved smile in response to my threat, which also pleases me. But then he leans against the frame of Mara’s bunk, and his eyes turn thoughtful. “You do realize that a broken betrothal would be a huge blow to my countship’s status? Everyone would assume the worst, that you found me lacking in some way.”
“I am prepared to offer something in exchange.”
“I’m listening.”
“Despite our incompatibility in marriage, you and I will discover a deep mutual respect and affection. I will be so taken with the good people of Selvarica, with their character, their potential to evolve into a great countship, that immediately upon returning to Brisadulce I will nominate your house to the open Quorum position.”
He gapes at me. “I . . . I hardly know what to say.”
“I also want two votes once you are a Quorum lord. Two separate occasions of my choosing when you must vote with me on an issue, regardless of your own feeling on the matter.”
He begins to pace. I force myself to remain silent and still, giving him time to consider. I glance at my ladies. Mara is wide-eyed, whether from surprise or alarm I cannot tell. But Ximena wears a soft, approving smile, and when I catch her eye, she gives me a barely perceptible nod.
At last he says, “This seat on the Quorum. It will be permanent, yes?”
I nod. “To be passed down through your heirs. Only the military seats are not inherited.”
“You think you can get the votes to approve my nomination?”
“I have one vote assured. I only need one more, and I have a few ideas on how to get it.”
“So you can’t guarantee that I will have a seat on the Quorum.”
“I guarantee that I will try my best. Even if my nomination does not pass—which is unlikely—you will be forever marked as one who has the queen’s favor.”
He stops pacing, runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly sheepish. “We could marry in truth, you know,” he says. “You needn’t offer me the concession of a Quorum position. I think . . . I think we could be good friends, you and I. Marriages are built on less.”
Softly I ask, “Could you give me another heir?”
“Probably?”
I stare at him.
He sighs. “So, a fake betrothal in exchange for a Quorum nomination. And two votes if I take office.”
“That is my bargain.”
“Done.”
I reach out and clasp his offered hand. He returns my smile with a delighted grin that lights up his whole face, and I think, briefly, what a tragedy it is for women everywhere that he cannot love them.
Then I add, “This is a secret bargain, witnessed only by my two ladies. It’s fair that you be allowed two witnesses as well. Would you like me to repeat my offer in front of anyone?”
He doesn’t even think about it. “I trust you.”
“Then we are agreed. Would you mind postponing your departure? I would like to inform the Quorum of our imminent betrothal and give the nobility the opportunity to fawn over you.”
He bows. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Please. Call me Elisa.”
We make preparations quickly. Tristán’s people and mine will travel together in state. But there are certain precautions we must take, and Hector and Tristán spend long hours together, going over routes and formations and personnel.
Hector alone of the Royal Guard knows our betrothal to be a pretense.