When I finally, breathlessly, pull away from her, Victoria smiles up at me.

“What was that for?” she asks, all innocence.

“You know what it’s for,” I say, brushing my nose against hers—or at least trying to. These masks Sophia picked out for us are rather in the way. I straighten, looking down into her eyes. “For helping me feel hope again.”

Something shines in her eyes—something that makes me want to grab her and kiss her again.

“I hope Reginald hasn’t spoiled the festival for you,” I say. “I truly despise that man.”

“He’s not exactly…charming,” Victoria says.

“The man’s an arrogant, entitled bastard,” I say. When she gives me a look, I add, “I know that’s saying something, coming from me.”

Her fingers grab the front of my shirt. “You can just say it—he’s a grade-A dick.”

“He’s also one of the finest fencers in Europe,” I say. “Victoria, I know you mean well by offering to enter the tournament—”

“Do you think I’m afraid of him?” she asks.

“Well, no, that’s not what I—”

“I can take him,” she says. “I’ll get back your scepter for you, I promise.”

It’s hard to argue with the look of determination in her eyes, but I find myself trying to anyway.

“Of course, I have the highest faith in you,” I say. “But it isn’t your responsibility to win back the scepter. I don’t want you to feel pressured to—”

“It might not be my responsibility, but I want to do it,” she says. “Or are you the only one who’s allowed to fight for this relationship?”

My mouth falls open. When she puts it like that, I truly have no response.

Her hands tighten on my shirt. “Maybe I’ll fail. Maybe he’ll beat me. But…I have to try. If not for us, then for myself. To feel like I have some ounce of control over this. These past few weeks I feel like I’ve been at the whims of everyone else. And maybe that’s my life now if I choose to be with you, but…this is my chance. The chance to take back a little bit of power. The chance to take action. Win or lose, I have to take the chance.”

Part of me wants to keep insisting that she shouldn’t have to fight my fights, but by the time she’s done speaking, the other part of me realizes how wrong that is. I see the truth in her eyes, feel it in her touch. I know if our situation were reversed, I could never sit back and let her be the only one to fight or take action. If we are to marry, I want to be a team—equal partners in all things. Her battles will be mine…so why should I deny her the same?

This is why I love her—this spirit.

I wrap my arms around her again, holding her against me. “Win or lose, I love you,” I murmur. “I will never stop loving you, no matter what happens.”

My lips find hers again, and she seems to melt against me. I tighten my grip on her as my tongue traces her lower lip before plunging deep into her mouth. She moans, a sound that vibrates through me, before abruptly pulling back. The bits of skin I can see around her mask are flushed red.

“Don’t start anything we can’t finish,” she says breathlessly. “Even if no one here recognizes you, I imagine we probably shouldn’t tear each other’s clothes off in the middle of the street.”

“Let them watch,” I say, pulling her toward me and kissing her again.

She returns the kiss for a moment before pulling away again, laughing.

“Come on,” she says. “I want to see the rest of the festival.”

I can’t deny her anything. Smiling, I lace my fingers through hers. “Anything you wish.”

I lead her back out into the crowd. All around us, people are laughing and even dancing. Many people are wearing street clothes, but just as many are dressed in costumes and masks as we are. Colors and movement and cheer surround us.

The crowds grow thicker as we near the main square of the city. The edges of the streets are lined with vendors selling everything from masks to roasted nuts to mugs of cider—with a splash of the finest Montovian spirits, of course. Music floats toward us from at least three different directions—we encourage all manner of street performers at the Festival—but the real show is in the main square.

“Would you care for something to eat or drink?” I ask her.

“I am a little hungry,” she admits. “What do you recommend?”

“It’s not the Salt Festival without some traditional Montovian salted bread,” I say.

She grins. “Then salted bread it is.”

I pull her through the throngs of people toward a stall along the sidewalk. A round-faced woman stands beneath a bright blue-and-gold awning, serving steaming, nut-studded rolls to the festival-goers around her. It takes some maneuvering, but I finally manage to find us a place in front of the stall.

“Two please,” I say.

“Right away, sir.” She turns and grabs two more of the warm, golden rolls. Coarse grains of salt have been sprinkled over the top.

When she turns back to us with our rolls, I slip her a banknote.

“No change,” I tell her, taking one of the rolls and passing it to Victoria.

The woman looks down at the note, then back up at me. Then again—this time with wide eyes.

“Your Highness,” she says, her round cheeks going even redder.

My stomach clenches, and I wait for it—for her judgment, her censure of my recent actions. But though she doesn’t exactly look pleased to see me, she doesn’t look unhappy, either—though perhaps my generous tip has more to do with that than anything else.

“Congratulations,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “For recognizing me, you receive a royal token.” I reach into the bag hanging from my belt and grab one of the little prizes—a little chocolate coin pressed with the royal coat of arms. I’ll admit I feel a little queasy handing out a prize with the royal seal emblazoned on the front, but there’s nothing to be done about it.

The woman looks down at the chocolate again before looking back up at me. Then her eyes slide behind me—to Victoria.

She leans forward, dropping her voice slightly. “Is that her?”

Her. How exactly do I answer that?

Before I can formulate a proper reply, the woman goes on. “I know it’s not my place to say so, Your Highness, but I’m glad you’re not marrying that Princess Justine. Seemed a shame to sacrifice you to that vile family. No disrespect meant, of course.” Her eyes flick back to Victoria. “Of course, I think most of us were hoping you’d marry a Montovian girl, but the heart wants what it wants, doesn’t it?” Her mouth tilts up into a smile. “First Leopold, and now you. What is it about these American girls that interests you brothers so?” She gives a little shake of her head, still smiling, then tries to hand my money back to me. “No charge for you, Your Highness.”

I refuse to take it back. “If you won’t keep it, then use it on someone else. Pass on the Festival spirit.”

Her smile grows even wider. “Very well, Your Highness.”

“Happy Festival,” I say, backing away from the stall.

For a moment, she looks like she wants to continue our conversation, but fortunately, another customer calls for her attention. I use her distraction to slip away with Victoria, pull her into a doorway, away from the crowd. Victoria’s already been nibbling at her roll, and she takes another bite.

“This is delicious,” she says.

I take a bite of my own, relishing the salty, nutty taste on my tongue.

My thoughts, however, are on the woman behind the table. She wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about my recent life decisions…but she wasn’t cruel, either. In fact, our little conversation gives me hope—hope that the people of this country will come to forgive me, that they might even come to be happy for me.

For us.

Victoria is taking another bite of her roll. She’s being incredibly quiet—even though I’m certain she heard my entire conversation with the baker.

“What are you thinking?” I ask her.

“I’m thinking I need about three more of these. It’s so good.”

“Is that all?”

She looks up at me, lowering her piece of bread. “I think…I’m glad I’m wearing a mask. And that I won’t have to hear most people’s thoughts about me.” She looks down at her drink. “I knew some people wouldn’t be happy about you marrying an American—and I definitely understand—but it’s still hard to hear.” Her eyes rise to mine again. “I never really expected to be in a situation where people would be judging me from all sides. She wasn’t even mean about it, but…that’s what my life is going to be now, isn’t it? Everyone in this country is going to have an opinion about me. About whether or not I’m suitable for you.”

“Yes,” I say, knowing better than to deny the truth. “But they will quickly come to see that you are the best thing to ever happen to me—and when they truly get to know you, they will see that you will make the best queen Montovia could ever hope for.”

She winces a little when I say the word queen. “It’s just a lot all at once.”

“And you won’t have to endure it alone,” I say.

She nods. “I know. It’ll just take some getting used to, that’s all.” She takes another bite. “And we haven’t even officially announced our engagement yet. We still can’t even say for sure that we will get married—”

I silence her with a finger against her lips. “We will. We will marry, no matter what I have to do to make that happen.” I reach down and take her free hand, the one still wearing the pearl engagement ring. “Nothing will stop me from becoming your husband. From devoting the rest of my life to you.”

She smiles and tastes her bread again, finishing it off with a few bites. Without releasing her hand, I do the same.

“Now,” I say, “why don’t we forget about everyone else for tonight and enjoy the festival?”

She nods, and I lead her toward the main square. The music is getting louder and louder, and people cheer and hum along as they skip and dance their way through the streets.

“Care to dance?” I ask her.

“Okay,” she says, smiling beneath her mask.

When we reach the main square, I pull her right out into the middle, where a number of couples are already swinging each other around in time to the vibrant melody. On the far end of the square, a small temporary stage has been erected, and a group of some of the finest musicians in Europe sway as they play a lively reel.

I take both of Victoria’s hands and swing her out into the crowd, and then we’re moving among the other dancers, turning and spinning together. Somehow, we seem to know exactly how to move together. As we dance, the worry seems to leave her face. With every passing minute, her smile gets larger and larger, and something sparkles in her eyes.

“What is it?” I ask her as I spin her around.

“Nothing,” she says. “I was just thinking about how this is much nicer than the last time we danced.”

I frown. “The last time?”

“At the state dinner.” She looks at me pointedly before twirling beneath my outstretched arm.

The state dinner. Memories of that night come flooding back, and my stomach clenches. I wasn’t exactly cordial to her that night. In fact, I was quite the opposite.

“Victoria, I—”

“Need to apologize? Why yes you do.” She stops right in front of me, looking up. “And I can think of a few other ways you might make it up to me.” She stands up on her toes and gives me a soft kiss on the tip of my nose.

Someone bumps into me from behind—we shouldn’t have stopped in the middle of the dancers. But I don’t care. I take Victoria in my arms.

“Name it,” I tell her huskily. “Tell me what I can do to make it up to you.”

“And make it easy for you?” She grins. “That, Your Highness, would ruin all the fun.”

Before I can stop her, she pulls out of my arms. A pair of dancers twirls toward us, but instead of moving back toward me, she steps away, letting them pass between us.

“You want to make it up to me?” she says, a twinkle in her eye. “Come catch me. When you find me, I’ll tell you exactly what you can do.”

Before I can fully register what she’s doing, she turns—and runs.

In a flash, she disappears behind another pair of dancers. And then she’s in the crowd, a splash of blue in a sea of color.

I try to run forward, then nearly collide with another couple. I avoid the collision, but when my eyes go back to where Victoria was, I no longer see any trace of her. She’s disappeared into the crowd.

“Victoria!” I call.

My shout draws the attention of a few nearby revelers, and I realize I must be more discreet if I’m going to remain anonymous.

I shake my head. She knows exactly what she’s doing, the little minx. But if she wants to play this game, then I am more than willing to play along.

I find myself grinning as I stride through the crowd. Yes, I will find her. And when I catch her, I won’t let her out of my arms all night.