14. AMANDA

“I’m sorry, I thought you asked me if I would marry Prince Dante,” I say, giggling and shaking my head. “My dad always says I’ve got beans in my ears.”

Maria isn’t smiling. Neither is Dante.

What the hell is going on here?

When Maria called me here to discuss the ceremonies, I was a little surprised to see Dante, especially since we hadn’t spoken a word since our… encounter in the gardens. Now he looks as confused as I feel.

Maria takes my hand in hers and looks deep into my eyes.

“I know that this is sudden and strange,” she soothes. “And I hope you can forgive us for that, because the last thing we want is for you to be feeling the way you’re probably feeling. But yes, that is exactly what we’re asking.”

Thoughts are whirring through my head like a swarm of locusts. I turn to look at Dante. Did he tell Maria about us? Is there some obscure Morovan law that says if a prince’s penis touches your vagina, you have to marry him? Sure, I came like an animal in heat, but it didn’t even go all the way in!

“You want me to marry you,” I say slowly and deliberately, trying to make sure I’m not on the receiving end of some colossal practical joke. “In less than two weeks. After knowing me for two days.”

The look in Dante’s eyes is unreadable as we stare at each other for a long moment.

“It would be a tremendous favor, not just to me, but to the monarchy itself,” he says finally.

Maria takes hold of my arms and turns me to face her. I trust her, but I feel like I’m adrift in the middle of the ocean here. Is she my life raft, or is she some kind of anchor that’s trying to drag down my sanity?

“This isn’t working,” she says, concern in her eyes. “We’ve driven the poor girl to the edge. I’m terribly sorry, Amanda, we approached this all wrong.”

“Ya think?” I snap.

I blink at her for a few moments, trying to gather as many of my chaotic thoughts as I can.

“Please believe me,” she says. “There is a method to this madness. If you ‘ll hear me out, I think I can make sense of everything for you. Or at least as much sense as the situation possibly can make, anyway.”

I shrug and nod; Dante looks away from me towards the window.

“It starts with your friend Peter,” she says. “The reason he was in such a state after studying the Trentini sword is because he discovered something. He accidentally turned the pommel and discovered the handle is actually hollow.”

I raise my eyebrows. That better not be it.

“That’s obviously not the key to the story,” she says. “Inside the handle was a rolled copy of a decree written by Napoleon himself. Essentially, it says the monarch of Morova must be married by his 30^th birthday, or the entire legal framework of the principality can be rendered null and void.”

My brows knit as I process that for a moment. Principalities exist at the sufferance of their neighboring powers. Agreements like the one they’re talking about are basically what keep them from being invaded. For example, as long as Monaco keeps to itself and doesn’t make waves, France allows it to exist.

Morova is similar, but different in that it’s also a bank with a web of connections throughout Europe and beyond. Its wealth is immense, and it’s one of the world’s top tax havens. But that could change if Italy or Switzerland ever decided to alter the deal. It’s not likely, but it’s definitely possible.

“Do you really think anyone would take the decree seriously today?” I ask.

Maria sighs. “There’s a web of political intrigue attached to all of this. First off, Morovans are mired in their traditions, as you know. They revere their history. And Dante is on thin ice with the two councils as it is. If Dante were to violate the decree, Chancellor Huber could easily use it as an excuse to call for a referendum, which could result in the end of the monarchy.”

My head is spinning. How did I end up at the center of a political shit storm? I’m a cowgirl from Montana, for God’s sake! I’m nobody!

“All right,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “I get it. Not totally, but enough to understand why you need to do this. But you haven’t answered the biggest question: why me? There has to be someone far better suited to the role. Even on such short notice.”

Dante takes a deep breath, lets it out. I don’t understand where all this is coming from. Has he – has he actually fallen in love with me? Could that even be possible?

Would marrying Dante really be so crazy? I’m already infatuated with him – could that somehow turn to true love, given enough time?

“You have something special,” Maria says softly.

I still can’t figure out why she’s here. Who gets someone to join them when they propose?

“What?” I ask, truly baffled. “My red hair? Is that part of the deal, too?”

Dante fidgets while his eyes dart around the room. Did he tell Maria about our encounter?

Suddenly I want to scream the way Dante did right before we met.

“Will you get to the fucking point?!” I holler. Whoa. That felt good.

To her credit, Maria doesn’t seem fazed by taking a double-lung scream directly to the face.

“Dante has to marry a virgin,” she says matter-of-factly. “And, to be brutally frank, you’re the only one I know who isn’t underage.”

Her words hit me with an impact that’s almost physical. Any thoughts I might have had of a royal romance suddenly dry up like water in the desert.

I turn to Dante. He still won’t meet my eyes.

“You need a virgin,” I say. My calmness surprises me.

“I know how insane this all sounds,” says Maria. “And I honestly can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now –”

“Is this why you seduced me in the gardens?” I ask Dante, ignoring her. “Because you needed a wife in two weeks? Maria told you I was a virgin and you figured ‘hey, how hard could it be to win over some country bumpkin girl?’”

Dante finally looks me in the eye. His are wide with shock.

“No!” he protests. “It didn’t happen like that at all!”

Maria looks at the both of us.

“Seduced in the gardens? What are you talking about?”

“Never mind,” I say. Now that I know what this is all about, I’m filled with cold fury. How can I trust either of these two again?

“Obviously we’re not asking you to do this out of the goodness of your heart,” says Maria. You’ll be compensated. Handsomely.”

Compensated? A moment ago I was wondering if things could get any crazier. Well, there’s my answer.

“You’re going to pay me to marry him?” I ask.

“It would be a contract. Marry the prince, sleep with him once to fulfill the decree. Legally, marriages in Morova must last a full year to be considered binding, but you could easily lead separate lives; many royals do. After that, you’re released from your obligations and will receive your compensation.”

“And what would my compensation be?” I ask. I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about doing this.

“Anything within my power,” Dante says. “Money, a title, status in society. Whatever you want would be yours.”

Anything? How about love? You didn’t mention that.

“I have to think about this,” I say, shaking my head as if that could somehow get rid of the thoughts inside it.

“Of course,” he says, reaching out to take my hand. I pull it away before he can touch me.

Maria gives me a sheepish look. “I’m very sorry to have put all this on you, Amanda. And I’m even more sorry to tell you this: we need to know your answer by this time tomorrow. If you don’t agree to the arrangement, we’ll have to start pursuing other options immediately.”

Pursuing options. Just what every girl wants to hear when talking about her wedding.

“Fine,” I say, rising from my chair and heading for the door of Maria’s office. “If I say no, will I still have my job?”

“Of course,” says Maria. “When I said we need you, I meant it. Obviously, that’s even truer now. But before you go, I want you to consider something.”

“What’s that?” I ask wearily.

“If you agree, you would be planning your own royal wedding. How many women can say that?”

I walk out without answering.

I don’t know the answer to her question. How many women have ever been contracted to marry a prince simply because they’d never slept with a man?

If I ever run into one, I’ll have to ask her.