"Oh I'm sorry, aren't we?" Violet asked coolly. "Contrary to what you might think, I'm not expecting my daughters to marry for love. I'd be foolish to expect them both to enjoy the perfect bliss and fidelity we've had, wouldn't I?"
Leo glared at her sarcasm.
The king tried to use his hand to muffle a very unusual sounding cough.
"But I want them to have at least some chance of contentment. How can Celia expect anything but unhappiness with that kind of husband? When his own legs can barely support him?" Violet crossed her arms.
Leo's face took on the expression he used when he was trying to placate her. "The fat little f-, uh…I mean Prince Tobin is only seven years old. No wedding can take place until he reaches his fifteenth year or so. So Celia won't be going anywhere until then. We still have years with her."
