Free The Errant Prince by Sasha L. Miller Page B

mouth and eyes.
    "You've missed a lot while you were gone, Tamsen," Stirling said, which was a stall and a guilt trip all in one. "I don't know where you've been living…" Stirling paused, obviously expecting Tamsen to supply that information. Tamsen stayed quiet, even though it was likely in vain. Myron knew where he lived; all Stirling had to do was ask him.
    "Takire is making moves that indicate we may soon be at war again," Stirling said, continuing after a moment. That wasn't surprising. Takire had always been hungry for more territory, particularly anything that would give them a port. They were landlocked, which gave them a disadvantage in trade. "I'm trying to secure an alliance with Sumira in case they try for one of our ports—"
    Tamsen laughed bitterly. So Myron's rumors had been correct. "I'm not marrying anyone. I'm not a prince anymore, Stirling. I'm not supposed to be, given the abdication papers I signed before I left."
    "You never could wait for me to finish my sentences," Stirling admonished, but he sounded more fond than annoyed by it. "I want an alliance with Sumira, not a war. Of course I'm not going to marry you to one of Ellewyn's daughters."
    "I think I should be offended by that," Tamsen said, just to be contrary. The knot of anxiety in his stomach eased, but that begged the question, "So what does it have to do with me?"
    "We burned your abdication," Stirling said bluntly. "We figured you'd come back in a few months, not…"
    "That I really meant it," Tamsen said, scowling. He'd figured something of the sort had happened, given what Myron had told him. Considering he'd left those papers for Hartley to find—a final 'fuck you' to Hartley's deception—the 'we' Stirling referred to had to be him and Hartley, and Tamsen was not fond of that combination, even if logically he knew Stirling had to deal with Hartley with regard to the King's Wizards.
    "You're still listed as a member of the royal family, and Ellewyn does prefer a marriage to you rather than waiting years for Lizaben to grow old enough for a formal marriage ceremony." Stirling rubbed at his forehead, sighing. "She knows you're a hermit, but that's all."
    "Go back to the part where I'm not marrying a Sumiran princess," Tamsen said, his head spinning from too much information. That was yet another reason Tamsen made a terrible prince: he'd never dealt well with the complex politics between their country and their neighbors.
    "You're not marrying a Sumiran princess," Stirling dutifully repeated, a small smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. "I'm aiming to have Lizaben engaged to Ellewyn's youngest daughter, since they're close in age. They're both ten years out from coming of age, but the engagement is just as binding as your marriage to Luriel would be. I just need to convince Ellewyn you're not a good prospect for marriage."
    "So let me sign the abdication papers again, and I'll be on my way," Tamsen said, though he doubted it would be that simple.
    Stirling shook his head. He looked pensive, confirming Tamsen's suspicions that that wasn't the whole of the problem. That Stirling wouldn't come out and say it just meant that Tamsen was going to hate whatever it was.
    "Hartley," Stirling said, which definitely confirmed that Tamsen was going to hate it. "He may have said something to the effect of your engagement to him—"
    "We were never engaged!" Tamsen snarled, setting his glass of whiskey aside before he gave into the urge to throw it.
    "Tamsen," Stirling said, giving him a quelling look. Tamsen glared back but subsided. "It was an unfortunate remark—apparently he was quite riled. But now I'm in the position of telling Ellewyn that you're available to be married but are running away from it. A grave insult, as I'm sure you're aware."
    "Or I can marry Hartley," Tamsen said bitterly, wishing Hartley were there so Tamsen could throw his glass of whiskey—straight at his head. It was a neat solution, by any estimation but his own.