Chapter 89

Kit made her way down the hallway toward a part of the castle where she seldom traversed, at least not in recent times. When she was younger, she’d run over here nearly every day to visit her father, but since she’d embarked on her Exploration over three years ago, her attention had been elsewhere, and distance had settled between them.

Her father, Remont, had always been dear to Kit’s heart, but her mother insisted on holding them apart. How he had ever won her Choosing was beyond the princess. It was certain to Kit that her mother hadn’t selected him for love. If the queen’s advice to her daughter was any indication of how she’d come about making her own decision, Remont must’ve seemed like the sort of man who wouldn’t stand in Rona’s way and would support her ruling at every turn. As far as Kit knew, that was precisely the role her father had taken.

She wound her way through marble hallways, past workers and nobility going about their day. All of them stopped and bowed or curtsied upon seeing her, and Kit smiled politely in return, but she spoke to no one, lost in her thoughts. For as long as she could remember, she knew she’d be going through the Choosing process, narrowing down a field of Representatives to seven, and then to one, selecting the man who’d serve as Duke—not King—of the Realm. It never sat well with her, and now, the closer she grew to reaching that moment, when she’d stand in front of all of the people of the queendom and announce her choice, not only was she having difficulty envisioning herself choosing just one of her candidates, she certainly couldn’t see herself naming a man she didn’t love. Her mother would do anything she could to stop her from picking a person she thought had value, one who could rule alongside her, but Kit wouldn’t let that knowledge slip anytime soon. Nor would she back down. Whomever she ultimately decided upon had to be a strong leader, intelligent, creative, and most importantly, he had to love her with all of his heart.

That didn’t narrow it down. At least five men, maybe more, immediately sprung to her mind. As Kit rounded the corner to the last corridor to her father’s chambers, the thought that she would need to prolong the Choosing as long as possible entered her mind.

Two members of the Queen’s Guard stood outside of the duke’s door. This was always the case. Not only were they there to protect him should someone decide to threaten his safety, they were also there to ensure Kit’s father was precisely where her mother expected him to be. In theory, he was as free to roam about the castle as anyone else was, but if he were to go somewhere unexpected, to interact with someone out of the ordinary, the queen would certainly hear about it. There was no doubt in her mind the moment Kit passed the threshold, her mother would be informed of this meeting, even if there was absolutely nothing devious discussed on the other side of the door.

“May I speak to my father for a moment?” she asked the guards. Dressed in the deeper maroon and steel gray uniforms of the Queen’s Guard, which were similar to her own guard’s uniforms, there was a distinct difference between these two men and the two that followed her at a distance. If Kit were to turn and take in the countenance of her own protectors, they would’ve looked at her with respect and admiration. The two men before her, both tall with broad shoulders, and one with a jagged scar that ran down the side of his face, scowled at her, hoping to incite fear. She knew this was their approach when it came to everyone short of the queen herself. Even the council members mentioned their dislike for how the Queen’s Guardsmen presented themselves, but Rona encouraged it, and as far as Kit knew, never had a guardsman been reprimanded for being too rough or off-putting with anyone in the castle, noble or otherwise.

Rather than giving a verbal answer, the man with the jagged scar pulled one side of the heavy, wooden double doors open, and Kit nodded her thanks before stepping through the opening.

Her father’s chambers had no windows, so despite the fact that it was midday and the sun was bright outside, it was drab and dreary inside of his room. She saw his form hunched over his desk and wasn’t surprised at all that he didn’t hear her enter or look up from the book he was reading. Though he wasn’t that old, years of neglect had worn on Remont. His hair was prematurely gray, his skin sallow, and his features gaunt. Standing a few feet away from him now, observing how his eyes ran over the well-worn pages of a volume he’d likely read a hundred times during his days of isolation, Kit realized just how ancient he looked.

Clearing her throat, she drew his attention, and Remont turned to face her, sliding his glasses down his nose so that she came into focus. “Well, if it isn’t my little Kit!” He stretched his arms out to her as he always did, and just as if she were still a small child, Kit rushed to him, letting him envelope her and resting her head in the crook of his neck. For a moment, all of her worries washed away, and she was her father’s little girl again.

“How have you been?” Remont asked. “I have caught glimpses of you and the men, but most of the time, I have not lingered.”

Kit pulled back slightly so that she could look into his eyes, the same shade of blue as her own. “You were at the ball, weren’t you?”

“For a spell,” Remont acknowledged. “But I did not tarry. I heard the announcement about your... friend.”

Kit knew he chose his words carefully because the guards were likely listening. Even though the door was thick, they had their ways. “Yes, Eli was named the new Representative from Eastbury.” She wasn’t stating anything that wasn’t common knowledge. “I was very pleased. He’s a natural leader and highly intelligent.”

“And you find him pleasant to look at,” her father added with a chuckle.

“That, too.” Again, Kit didn’t mind the guards having that bit of information since her mother was already aware.

Her father laughed, causing the whiskers in his beard to tickle against her chin, and Kit couldn’t help but smile. “Please, darling, have a seat,” the duke suggested, gesturing to a nearby chair. “I’d love to hear about your new friends.”

A red velvet chair with wooden armrests sat off in the corner, and Kit grabbed hold of it, pulling it over closer to him where there was some light. She glanced around his drab, though tidy, quarters and wished he had a window. The moment she was named queen, she’d find her father more suitable chambers nearer her own.

His use of the word “friends” came as no surprise to Kit. She sat on the edge of the seat and considered what this must be like for him. Regardless of the fact that the Choosing was a tradition that dated back hundreds and hundreds of years, she could only imagine how a father must feel about his daughter selecting a man from dozens of suitors, particularly since pleasuring was such a huge part of the process. As she began to talk about the men, she avoided that topic completely.