All Chapters of Denial before Surrender: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The first difficulty with choosing a husband, Aurora discovered, was that everyone wished to know whether she had begun before she had properly begun. Lady Marston enquired over breakfast. The bishop’s wife asked on the stairs. Even Master Fenwick, who ordinarily regarded conversation as an unfortunate interruption to the preservation of paper, remarked that Prince Philip possessed an excellent library. “Then perhaps he should marry it,” Aurora said. Fenwick blinked. She immediately regretted herself. “I beg your pardon. That was unkind.” “To the prince, Your Highness?” “To you.” He considered this distinction while adjusting the documents beneath his arm. “His library is very well regarded.” “I am sure it is.” Once he had gone, she wrote a reminder in her notebook. Ask questions before becoming attached to the answers. She regarded the sentence. It sounded like something her mother would say. Philip’s invitation arrived shortly before noon. The eastern musicians were

The first thing Sebastian stole from the palace was a little time. Six minutes, to be precise. He took them from the clerk responsible for household deliveries, who left his desk each afternoon to visit a kitchen maid he believed no one had noticed. Sebastian noticed because noticing was the greater part of any performance. The clerk straightened his collar before leaving. He checked his reflection in the dark window. Then he tucked a folded scrap into his sleeve and went downstairs wearing the solemn expression of a man attending to official business. Sebastian waited until the footsteps faded. Then he entered the office. There were three ledgers on the desk. He had spent four days learning which one mattered. The office smelled of dust and sealing wax. Sebastian set his lute against the door. Anyone passing would see a musician occupying himself while waiting for a conversation. He had discovered that people accepted almost any delay if an instrument accompanied it. The d

The woman at the grain stall was holding an empty sack. She gripped its mouth in both hands, twisting the coarse fabric while the merchant explained something she had plainly heard before. “The measure is the measure, Mistress Ward.” “It was not the measure last Thursday.” “Then you should have bought it last Thursday.” “And stored it where? In the cellar I haven’t got?” Aurora stopped behind a man carrying a basket of turnips. Up close, the grain looked no different from the samples brought before the committee. Pale kernels, a little dust, several husks. Nothing in its appearance explained why the woman’s hands were shaking. “What wedding levy?” Aurora asked. Both turned. The merchant recognised her first. His posture changed so abruptly that the woman looked behind herself. “Your Highness.” Aurora wished he had not said it so loudly. “The levy you mentioned.” The woman lowered her sack. “I meant no disrespect.” “I did not suggest you did.” “No, Your Highness.” Aro

Henry knew how to punish a man who had frightened his daughter. That was the least difficult part. By morning, the man from the alehouse sat in the town gaol. The captain of the guard had obtained statements from the landlord and two witnesses, all of whom agreed that Dent had been drunk, aggressive, and warned to leave the princess alone. Henry read the account twice. The second time, he looked for a detail that might make his anger smaller. He found none. “Has he been charged?” he asked. “Assault upon a member of the royal household, sire.” The captain stood before the desk with his hands behind his back. “And?” “Public disorder. There is a previous conviction for striking a carter.” Henry set down the statement. He could order a punishment before luncheon. No councillor would object. Several would discover reasons to praise his restraint regardless of what he chose. “What does the magistrate recommend?” “The ordinary hearing on Friday.” “Then Friday.” The captain bow

The lute sounded better after the repair. Sebastian found this irritating. He had hoped to spend the morning correcting it rather than considering the conversation that had distracted him from his work. Instead, the bridge held, the strings settled, and every note arrived with an inconvenient clarity. I did not ask to be born here. He plucked the lowest string. No one did. It was a poor defence of anything. He had not asked to be born in a house that would eventually be searched by soldiers. Nora had not asked to carry a forged instruction. The boy selling apples outside the palace had certainly not selected his circumstances from a list. Princess Aurora’s dissatisfaction should have interested him less than a badly tuned instrument. He played the opening bars of a drinking song. By the second verse, he had forgotten the words. Nora received her lost wages on a Tuesday. Not from Sebastian. He understood enough about kindness to know that being seen providing it could make