really, for the Chartiers believed that no one in the Alucian Court could be trusted. The forty-year-old rift between Sebastian’s father, King Karl, and his older half-brother, Felix, the Duke of Kenbulrook, had created an atmosphere of distrust and betrayal that had followed him all the way to England.
Sebastian didn’t really fear betrayal—he tended to believe the good in most, and more than once had suggested to his father that perhaps the rift between him and his half-brother could be repaired. Sometimes men did unwise things when they were young, he’d suggested.
His father had responded with a murderous look.
His father’s fear that all men had been sent by Felix to harm them had settled into the marrow of everyone that surrounded the royal family. Especially while in England—everything and everyone was suspect.
It was that overriding suspicion that had led Matous to suggest that if everyone wore a mask, and an identical one at that, Sebastian might have some semblance of privacy. Very little, Matous admitted, but it seemed far better than wearing the sashes and the medals and rings of the knight guard Sebastian would typically wear if the ball were more formal. “It is the only way that you might attend without great attention, I think. You will not be so easy a target. And the English like the idea.”
Sebastian had laughed. “A silk mask will not protect me from all the assassins that supposedly lurk around me.”
“It will not protect you, no, Your Highness, but your elite guard will. And it may serve to confuse detractors and menaces.”
Sebastian thought his detractors and menaces were wilier than that, but then again, it hardly mattered what he thought. There were men in the crown’s service paid to think of these things, and their nerves had put Sebastian on edge since his arrival more than a week ago.
The trade agreement he’d come to negotiate was vitally important to his country but perhaps even more important to him. His father had not wanted to pursue it. The prime minister of Alucia resented Sebastian’s interference in the delicate matters of state, and insisted they ought to be thinking of the military. “We should focus on preparing for war with Wesloria,” he’d advised the king, “not pursuing trade agreements with a country so far from our shores.”
Sebastian saw it differently. This friction between Alucia and Wesloria had taken a toll on the kingdom’s economy. Border skirmishes did not come cheap, and had dented the coffers. In the meantime, Alucia had not progressed like other countries, had not begun to manufacture goods like England or America. What they needed was a stronger economy, he’d argued. Alucia might be a small European kingdom, but it was rich in resources. They needed the tools of industrialization, which England had developed above all others. The resources mined in Alucia—iron ore and copper, for example—could be traded for England’s help in creating new, viable industries. Cotton and wheat could be bartered for tobacco and sugar.
Industrialization would give Alucia the upper hand if they found themselves at war with Wesloria, where Uncle Felix continued to sow seeds of discord.
The crux of the dispute between the two royal half-brothers was that Uncle Felix, banished forty years ago to his family’s home in Wesloria when Karl took the throne, believed he had a more legitimate claim to the throne than Karl.
The question of succession had its roots in a sixteenth-century civil war, when a Chartier had first assumed the throne. Felix’s family, the Oberons, who lost that struggle and had retreated to Wesloria, propping up Weslorian kings along the way. They’d long claimed that the Chartier claim to rule Alucia was not as legitimate as theirs.
Felix had promised to unite Wesloria and Alucia under one rule if he was successful in gaining the Alucian throne, and with the many loyalists dedicated to the Oberon cause, the Chartiers feared they could be drawn into war.
Sebastian wanted to unite Wesloria and Alucia, too. He wanted the Chartiers and Oberons and their fellow countrymen to unite in the strength of industrialization and shared prosperity. Not by the ravages of war.
“The prime minister believes this to be a fool’s errand,” his father had said to Sebastian one night in his study, when the two of them had been alone save for the two footmen who stood quietly aside, ready to serve.
“The prime minister can’t see the forest for the trees,” Sebastian had said. “We won’t survive a war by falling behind the times.”
His father had harrumphed but said, “I will agree to your plan, but over the objections of my prime minister. He has threatened that the parliament may not ratify any trade agreement struck by you if it is not completely advantageous to Alucia.”
“I understand.”
“You must maintain the upper hand in negotiations,” his father had warned.
Sebastian was well aware of that. Wasn’t that the goal of any negotiation?
“There is one way you might appease me and the prime minister and perhaps pave a path to ratification.”
“Oh? How?” Sebastian had asked curiously.
“Bring home a wife.”
“Pardon?” Sebastian had laughed.
His father did not. “We’ve waited long enough. We must secure the question of succession—Felix’s son Arman has two children. While England believes in our legitimacy, Queen Victoria’s consort, Prince Albert, agrees with the view of his duchy of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, who favors Felix. They depend on Wesloria for iron ore, as you know. We can cement your trade agreement and England’s commitment to us with an English bride.”
This had not been part of Sebastian’s thinking, but instead of debating the point, he’d said nothing. He needed to think about it.
His father had pinned him with a look. “You’re not a young man any longer. You’re two-and-thirty. We must secure the succession—it’s as simple as that, son. If you can’t arrange it, then perhaps you have no business inserting yourself in these affairs.”
“I understand.”
“I hope you do. You should know that if you don’t settle on a match, when you return, I’ll settle on one for you. A bride from Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, perhaps.”
Sebastian had had no choice but to agree.
Now that he was in London, the rumors of rebellion felt dangerously real, whereas in Alucia, the threats always seemed at a remove. His security was the best of his country, and yet, Sebastian felt exposed in London. He didn’t know how his younger brother, Leopold, seemed to live relatively at ease while he studied at Cambridge.
“They’re merely rumors,” Leopold had said with a shrug when Sebastian had questioned him.
Perhaps Leopold did not hear the reports that support for their father was eroding under a relentless propaganda campaign coming from Felix. That was another thing that drove Sebastian—he believed if he could modernize the country, he could shore up support for his father.
And then again, it was entirely possible that those rumors were unfounded but louder in Sebastian’s presence, as he was the heir, the future king. Perhaps they seemed stronger here because of Prince Albert’s support of Felix and Wesloria.
Sebastian had to find a wife in this veritable sea of unmarried English women. Alliances had to
