didn’t trust him. But how could she not trust him?
G spent the early morning of day five of Queen Jane’s rule cantering through the grassy lowlands to the north and east of the castle. He kept trying to think of all the reasons why it was good not to be a king.
First, it would be hard to gallop with a crown.
Second, if he were king, he would rarely be alone, and would hardly be allowed to jaunt about the countryside on his own. He’d probably have an advisor on his back. How degrading.
Third, he had to admit, his lady was the more knowledgeable one. He was sure that somewhere along the way, Jane had read a book with a title like, How to Rule a Kingdom, Even if You’re Thirty-Second in the Line of Succession and Chances Are You’ll Never Actually Rule: Volume One of Three.
And finally, being a king was exactly the kind of responsibility G liked to avoid. If he were king, people would expect great things of him. His every action would be judged and weighed against the monarchs of the past. And if he made mistakes, well, a king’s mistakes had consequences. It was a lot of pressure.
Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, G thought. Which was a pretty good line. He wished he had ink and paper. And hands with opposable thumbs, so he could write it down.
G snuffed (the horse’s equivalent of a sigh). He’d never wanted to be king. And his lady presented some logical reasons for her decision, although at the time, he would’ve appreciated the logical reasons being delivered in a less hostile way. Preferably with fewer pillows whooshing past his head.
Still, the rejection burned.
G slowed from a canter and leisurely trotted over toward a brook winding its way through the valley. He lowered his head and slurped water. It tasted cool on his tongue, and helped calm his burning ego.
What did a life as prince consort look like? He couldn’t help picturing it as some sort of personal valet, who attended the left side of the queen with astute devotion and when the queen said, “I’m thirsty,” he would reply by jumping to his feet and saying, “Your Majesty, if I have to search out the magical Carpesian Waters of Romania myself, killing loads of bandits along the way, you. Shall. Have. Your. Water.”
G shook his mane and whinnied, the sound definitely coming across as a whine, even to his own ears. He realized that in reality, he would not be a personal valet, and even if he were, there would most likely be a pitcher of water nearby.
The sun shot across the sky much faster than he liked. He could almost see the streak marks.
Sometimes he dreaded turning into a horse and leaving his humanity behind, but today, he dreaded the setting sun and the fact that he would soon have to face his wife. He wanted to be supportive and caring, and he wanted to talk about how they were going to change the kingdom, and he didn’t want to feel inferior and powerless, because he knew Jane—at least he thought he knew her—and he knew she would not make him feel inferior and powerless.
G had always thought of himself as a rather enlightened sort of fellow, especially compared to the other men of the day. When his brother Stan’s wife had questioned Stan during a family dinner, she’d been locked in her room for three days. G would never react so harshly. Jane loved books, and that had never scared him like it did other men. Yes, it had irritated him in the beginning—a perfectly reasonable reaction—but that was because her books were bulky and space-consuming and seemed to be more important to her than he was. Or people in general. Then Jane had read to him underneath the tree, in that soft lilting voice of hers, so sure in the pronunciations of all the big words. Like sesquipedalian. Which Jane said meant “big word.”
He had never blamed her for reading. Or for thinking. Or for stating her opinion so often. And God’s teeth, she stated her opinion often.
He would never have lorded his “lord and master” title over her.
But now, she was his queen. His sovereign. His ruler. The night of the coronation, he had pledged his allegiance to her, and her alone.
How was he supposed to be a husband after that? Was he to be lord and master of his household, as long