“It was more than that,” he said. “We take years to consider and plan these unions. She was eager to send you within the twelvemonth. The dowry she offered to send you with was unheard of.” He cocked his head, forehead wrinkled with worry. “Besides that, she insinuated that an alliance with you, her stepdaughter, was an alliance with New York.” Bear scraped a hand through his hair. “We need willing trade partners. It was all too tempting.”

I swallowed. “And you thought—”

“We thought she might be staging something. In league, perhaps, with the tsarytsya. Using you to establish a beachhead from the west. So we took precautions. Father didn’t even want me as close to you as I was—he wanted me sent away.” Bear wet his lips. “Surely you understand.”

My heart throbbed painfully.

The problem was, I did understand.

The Saint George of Constantine’s England did not seek dragons on foreign shores. His Saint George didn’t slay dragons at all.

It hid from danger. It waited. It had repented of meddling and theft. It defended its own, kept to itself, kept its borders.

I had only ever wanted to do the same.

I had never wanted to be standing here, in a foreign court, navigating such harsh waters as these.

“My father began that game with you when he thought you might be a spy. He was opening negotiations with you. None of us knew you were ignorant of your stepmother’s actions.”

Sir Perrault and Captain Lang strode toward us, the latter’s posture and drawn brows forbidding.

“It’s done,” said Lang.

Cobie loaded the last trunk onto the wagon and jumped down onto the gravel path.

“It is not done,” Perrault said. “The seneschal-elect is not to give her final answer until she has completed her tour.”

My throat was tight as I took the tiara from my hair and pressed it into Bear’s hands. I watched hurt fill his eyes as he palmed it, gemstones glittering between his fingers.

“Perhaps someday I will return to claim this,” I said brokenly. “If I do not, you will be advised.”

And if I do not, I thought, you will know precisely why.

Bear nodded once, then twice.

I looked to Lang. Gone from his eyes were the frustrated remains of our argument; his jaw was resolute, protective. I could practically see the chip balanced on his shoulder.

He shrugged out of his dark blue jacket and draped it across my shoulders, the canvas heavy and comforting over my thin dress.

And I walked away from Bear. And I walked away from England.

The prince didn’t speak as we climbed into the cart. And I didn’t look back as we drove off, even as the crowd’s murmurs rose into a dull roar. But as we rowed back to the Beholder, I cried the entire way.

35