She knew from the way the way the Merlin ignored her and her mother chastised her that they considered her too weak, mild, and sickly ever to become an effective ruler, and the most they could hope was to marry her off to one.
She supposed that this peace treaty they were forced to accept Leopold, but she couldn't help but think that they must be relieved as well. Leopold VII was one of the most eligible of the royal sons of Europe: tall, broad-shouldered, classically handsome, with bright blue eyes the color of the Danube and a halo of golden curls upon his brow.
More than that, he was supposed to have grown up a real gentleman; he was said to be well-read, smart, diligent, and hard-working—instead of the usual lazy Lothario.
From his performance at the battle, it was clear he was a real leader, a hero brave and true, who had the love and respect of his subjects.
Not that it mattered when it came to her happiness.
She remembered him as a sly boy, one who had little interest in other people, other than his admirers. He would not care for her as a person, nor would she expect him to. Romantic love did not factor into royal matrimony; the most one could hope for was civility. He was marrying her for the empire, for the crown she could place upon his head; for the chance to be king.
She had known that this day would come, but it was still a shock that it had arrived so soon. She knew she had no choice when it came to her own marriage, and that love was the least of considerations when a princess chose a mate—or, more to the point, where a mate was chosen for her. Even though she had been preparing for it all her life, it was still unexpected when it finally arrived. She thought briefly of a person she would choose if she were allowed to, but it was too painful to even think of him. Gill Cameron had felt her service for months now, and it didn't appear he would be back anytime soon. Besides, there was no possibility of the queen and the Merlin ever approving of the union.
Her mother tapped her spoon against her cup, to show she was still waiting for an answer.
"Yes, I do remember Leo." Marie said finally. "But he is engaged, isn't he?"
There was a titter from the assembled courtiers, which the queen silenced with a frown. "Is he?" Eleanor asked pointedly.
"To Isabelle—you must remember—the pretty little French girl," Marie insisted. House Valois was not welcome at court, but mainly, she had heard that sixteen-year-old Lady Isabella of Orleans was very beautiful indeed, blessed with dark eyes like limpid pools in a small, heart-shaped face. Uncommonly breathtaking and lovely: everything everything Marie was not. Marie knew that she was displeasing her mother by bringing up Leos engagement, but she couldn't help it. What was the use of power and privilege if one couldn't be happy in life? She missed Gill and wished with all her heart that she could see him again. If she could, she would tell him exactly how she felt about him this time. She did not want to think about a future with Leopold.
Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "I am quite certain he is unattached. And if not, he will soon be."
Marie nodded. This was not just her mother's will, but the Merlin's. The peace of the empire depended on her taking the Prussian prince as her bridegroom. The sooner she accepted her fate, the easier her life would be.