For once, the dining hall is filled to the brim with life. Noblemen and women in their finest attire yammer and feast with wide smiles and joyous voices. Servants rush to and fro, filling goblets with blood-red wine. A small orchestra keeps the beat of the party lively and fresh. Our wedding menu is much more in keeping with Douburg customs, but tonight is all about Crismond cuisine and the kitchen staff slayed it. The guests moan over the warm, decadent flavors of dumplings, spaetzle, and sausage, and I think I even see Prince Fionn smile at the first bite of his wienerschnitzel.

I survey the scene, pleased to see most of the Royal Court and Assembly in attendance this evening, despite the short notice. Everyone appears to be in high spirits and the atmosphere is just perfect. Father did not even want to have a proper engagement party or welcome feast, but I insisted out of propriety. I’m glad I did, if only so I could enjoy the look of discomfort on the duke’s face as the evening progresses. It is clear to me that he does not enjoy prolonged exposure to this many people as he is being even more quiet than usual.

We sit side by side in the center of an enormous table, with Prince Alec on his right and Gilroy on my left. My father sits at the head and the Barness of Onora at the foot, each entertaining their own small crowd of opportunists. Although the room is packed, the space directly across from us is left empty so that nobels can approach to congratulate us on our impending nuptials or to meet the mysterious prince who will one day be their king.

Gilroy whispers in my ear as an older woman draped in fox fur draws closer. “Countess Amalia Barroso,” he supplies quietly. “Her daughter, Fiona, recently married Marquess Micael.”

“Countess Barroso!” I greet warmly a moment later. “I must congratulate you on your daughter’s good match. Is she settling into her new role as Marchioness well?”

“Quite well, Your Highness, thank you for asking,” the glamorous lady simpers. “Although the true congratulations belong to you, Your Highness. I am sure I speak for the entire Court when I say we couldn’t be happier for you.”

I’m so very sure. I am not unaware of rumors about me being a "dyke", with some of the women of the court thinking I’m just a little too assertive to keep a man. Not that they dislike me per say, but, well, when a royal heir has yet to be produced, people worry.

“My happiness should not overshadow the merry news of others,” I flatter smoothly.

“Well said, Your Highness. And I hope I am not overstepping my place by saying we are also eager to see Advisor Ailin happily settled as well.”

My stomach turns at her words, but Gilroy’s secret squeeze on my knee settles it almost at once. “Thank you for the sentiment, Countess.”

She looks far too pleased with herself as she takes her leave, allowing the next in line to greet me. Unfortunately, she is not the only person who shares with me their eagerness to see Gilroy married that evening. One woman even has the audacity to invite him to her estate to meet her youngest daughter, apparently as youngest daughters are the only nobles suitable to match with a bastard. After she leaves, I am startled by Prince Fionn leaning in close to me.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly.

After barely speaking two words to anyone all night, I am astonished by his concern.

“Oh, yes. Quite alright, but perhaps I should be asking you that?”

His hard, cold gaze grazes over me once before he responds. “I confess, it is strange to be constantly congratulated on something beyond my control and against my preferences. Perchance is the source of your discomfort the same?”

I should be offended by what he just said, but it strikes me as so incredibly honest and relatable, I can’t help but laugh.

“Did I say something funny, Princess?” he asks with a frown on his face. I am struck with the sudden urge to kiss that frown away.

“Only endearing, Your Grace,” I admit. “Tell me, my Prince, are you secretly a hopeless romantic?” I ask as I motion a servant to keep the line of waiting nobles at bay for a moment of privacy.

“I believe love is necessary for romance, but obviously not for marriage,” he answers immediately.

“And what of love without romance?” I pry.

His face scrunches in displeasure at my words. “Do you speak of lust?”

“If that is what you wish to call it, yes. Sexual desire is a natural part of humanity.”

“I respectfully disagree, Princess. Humanity is the essence which separates us from animals. Animals procreate, but they do not think, create, or develop. It is our higher cognition which separates us from lower life forms.”

“Voyrock said our ability to think about our thoughts was what separates us from animals.”

“You read Voyrock?” His eyes expand slightly, before they grow intent again, focused on what I am saying.

“Of course. His treatise on humanity was invaluable in the development of my moral code regarding taxation. He says, our sense of self elevates us to higher planes of existence. When a baby first perceives themselves, they become a child, and when a child perceives themselves honestly, they become an adult.”

“I know his words well,” he agrees.

“Then it only follows that knowing and accepting our desires and needs is an essential part of enlightenment,” I argue.

“Desires are not the same as needs and we can know our natural inclinations without acting upon them,” he counters.

“True, but did you not say creativity is another sign of humanity? To make our fantasies a reality rather than simply acting on instinct is what truly separates the animal’s need to procreate from the human’s desire to connect.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” the duke clips.

“Ah well, it was just food for thought,” I give up allowing the flow of well-wishes to resume.