In the end, he was glad he’d let her buy him a new suit. She requested that he come with her—not be at the ball at the same time as her, but walk there with her, and escort her in. He purposefully didn’t think about what that might mean. Then she gave him the first dance, and three of the other fifteen—aside from the last, again, with him. At the same time as that, he had to concentrate on not being countrified and staring around at the icy cavern. As they walked home he finally asked her how any of it worked, and despite how tired he could tell she was—and he was—they managed to walk back talking cheerily.

The next morning, simply walking through the corridors of the palace, he was noticed. He’d been glanced at before, but now three different people stopped to talk to him. He tried to be respectful and remember what rank they were, but fortunately the conversations were struck up casually, and were always short enough that it didn’t matter.

Once the library door was shut behind him, he leaned back against it, thinking.

Charlotte knew politics. Something like what she’d done at the opening ball of the season couldn’t have been on accident. So openly it might even be considered a message.

Regis picked up some books and chose a study room on the fifth floor before he gave it careful thought. He’d been reading about the history of the past few years, with a pamphlet about recent interesting trade agreements slipped between the pages. Charlotte would laugh at him if she knew he had a strange liking for studying them. At least, he liked studying the good ones. The simple ones were as boring as anyone would think.

If Charlotte knew what she was doing, why would she . . . flaunt him? Was she saying she could do what she wanted, spend time with whoever she wanted, even bring a poor, obviously delusional boy to escort her? Was she saying she was kind, to spend time with him when there was nothing that could ever come of it? No, those didn’t sound like Charlotte—except the part about doing whatever she wanted. Then had she simply decided it didn’t matter?

He thought about how she’d acted since they’d gotten back—no, before. Since she’d lightly asked Nem if she’d hate her for stealing him.

Charlotte was acting possessive.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t the bad kind, even though it was a little annoying when she insisted on buying him clothes—though she’d kept her word and hadn’t gotten him anything without talking to him about it first, and getting him to agree. Certainly if he wanted to leave he knew she’d let him, though she wouldn’t be happy about it, and he thought if he kept saying no to every request to buy him something she’d leave it alone—with a pout. So a little controlling and possessive, yes, she was, but in the end he’d already known that, and at that degree it didn’t really bother him.

What he hadn’t known was that he was something she’d care enough to be possessive about.

“What are you grinning about?”

Regis looked up to see Charlotte standing there, her head tilted a little with a smile on her face. Her young smile.

“You,” he said.

It went the same way for the rest of the snows. If there was an event they would both attend, he escorted her. She continued to insist on buying him things, and after a while he stopped minding—though he staunchly refused to let her use gold embroidery on anything. She had a glee about her every time he let her buy him something else, until he realized that she was simply happy that she could. Still, shortly before the season ended and Charlotte asked him which one of his suits he’d wear to the final ball, he realized he didn’t know what he’d do if Nem found out Charlotte had bought him five.

It was the day before the final event that Charlotte officially stopped caring about who saw them kiss. They were in an open hall, as she was about to enter some meeting, and she kissed him goodbye for the morning. He didn’t even think about it until after he’d started walking toward the library, and a few servants were peeking at him out of the corner of their eyes.

At that point Regis was used to the spectacular caverns where events were held, and only admired the chandeliers as much as everyone else did. Charlotte asked him to dance even more than usual, and he never hesitated to accept. He knew what people thought it meant, but either way, he couldn’t find it in himself to care what they thought.

Afterward, to his surprise, she didn’t say goodnight at the junction where their rooms were in separate directions. Instead she asked him if he’d sit with her for a while.

Charlotte’s apartments were vast, and heavily decorated. She had one sitting room she’d chosen, and pulled him down onto a couch next to her, shooing one of her ladies to shut the door behind them. Regis raised his eyebrows. They usually weren’t allowed to be alone outside of the library. Then Charlotte turned to him, and took his hands. To his surprise, she looked a little pale, and maybe nervous. His heart automatically started to beat faster, no matter what he told himself.

“Regis,” she said, “could you do something for me?”

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s something difficult,” she said, “and dangerous—so dangerous—and it’s bound to be unpleasant at least half of the time. Not only that, the worst part will start much sooner because of something I lied to you about—”

Regis squeezed her hands, trying not to hope.

“It could get you killed,” she said.

“What is it?” he asked again, and she took a breath—then let it out. Her cheeks were pink, and she looked so nervous, so Regis leaned in and kissed her.

Charlotte kissed him back, and for a while neither of them worried about much.

Then she pulled back—just enough to say something. “I want you to marry me.”

Regis could only grin, and kiss her again.

When the clock struck a quarter hour they both pulled back, blushing. Regis couldn’t help but think that it had been at least fifteen minutes, if not more, that they’d been alone in the room together. Her ladies were going to talk.

“Wait,” he said, “what would be unpleasant?”

“Assassins,” she said. “And having to deal with me sometimes. You’re sweet about it, but I know I already—”

Regis rolled his eyes, and she laughed. Then her smile died. “You’re not going to ask what I lied to you about?”

Regis looked down at their hands, still in each others’. “You’re going to tell me that your mother isn’t actually alive anymore?”

When she was silent he looked up. She looked surprised.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“The way you talk about her,” he said. “That and how you never visit her.”

“I do pretend to,” she said. “Is it that obvious?”

“I can tell when you’ve been working,” he said, “and when you come back from supposedly visiting her you’ve always been working.”

“I suppose it’s hard to hide anything from you,” she said. “Which I don’t mind. Will you mind if I’m telling you what I think you should be doing with your life?”

“I can’t be king,” he said, and for a moment she froze. “Not like most kings—and I’d also rather not be called that. King Regis Regis would be too much.”

She relaxed. “Of course.”

“I can’t be that kind of power,” he said. “I can support you and try to help you make decisions, but I can’t take more of your burden than that.”

“But that’s all I want,” she said. “I’ve been acting as queen since I was thirteen—I know, thirteen, but we had to keep her death a secret and if we don’t know who to trust now we certainly didn’t then, so no regent. Anyway, I’ve been acting as queen for nearing on five years, and I know how I work, how I make decisions, and how I do things seems to be working well. What I need is someone to spend time with when I’d otherwise be micromanaging, to talk to when I can’t make any kind of sense of something, to smile at me when I’m frustrated and—I just need someone to keep me going. You balance me, Regis.”

Regis was smiling. “Then I won’t have to try to change what’s apparently my natural state—of simply observing and doing something quiet about what I see.”

“I know.” Charlotte squeezed his hands. “That’s the point, isn’t it? That I want you for who you are.”

“Then you have me, hand and heart,” he said simply.