She dropped her hand and clasped it with the other in front of her, lifting her eyes to his.

“All is well, my son.”

“You and father—”

She shook her head. “Let us not talk about such things on a joyous day.”

She thought this was a joyous day?

He studied her.

By the gods, she actually thought this was a joyous day.

“You and Farah—” he began.

“I’ve come to the decision, after some very good advice from a very wise woman, and words of support for your soon-to-be princess from your own man, to open my heart and see what comes in. And, just so you know, I thanked her for the taffy.”

She thanked Farah for the taffy.

She thus had some understanding of what would come into her heart.

His mother was making an effort.

A mammoth one.

For him.

As usual.

He did not have a warm and affectionate mother.

But he absolutely had a devoted and loving one.

He unclasped her hands by taking them in his own.

“Mother—”

“Now, you should start making your way. There is much traffic in the city. The capital guard has lined the streets and they’re keeping the parade route open, but you’ll need to allow your people plenty of time to take in their prince on his way to his wedding, so the ride will be slow.”

“Are you going to let me finish a sentence?” he asked.

“No,” she answered, giving his hands the barest squeeze before pulling away and moving toward the door. “I’m off now. Meeting your father at our carriage,” she said as she went.

She turned at the door, expertly flicking her voluminous skirts behind her when she did.

“Majesty is saddled and blanketed and waiting for you when you’re ready,” she declared.

“Thank you, Mother.”

“I didn’t saddle him, the royal groom did.”

“No,” he said, his voice heavy. “Thank you, Mother.”

She tipped her head to the side, and in response to that, oddly said, “Your father wanted to name you Frederick. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t,” he replied quietly.

Then he braced as her voice matched his and a thread of molten gold ran through it when she spoke her next.

“But it was as if I was a seer,” she whispered. “We discussed it for days and days. He put his foot down, but I was adamant. I knew what you should be named. And in the end, I was right. You turned out so handsome.”

He stared at her, his throat feeling thick.

“And true,” she finished, her tone now an ache of pride.

Then, with another expert flick of her skirts, her head held high, True’s beloved mother walked out of the room.

The People of Wodell

Royal Wedding Parade Route, Notting Thicket

WODELL

There came the marching guard first.

All in dress greens.