Amaya looked away, it was difficult to say the words she had memorized by heart.

"In over a hundred years, the Leront Royal castle has not hosted a King that the people approved of. The nobles, yes, but as the people became poorer and poorer, the King and his clique lived more and more outrageously. We will mark the beginning of a new era, one where the Royal Family is popular, efficient and appreciated."

He didn't seem convinced. "How?"

"Love."

Amaya watched him absorb the information, without commenting on it. She detailed her idea further.

"We will give them something to aspire to. We will be courteous, proper and, most importantly, present a facade of unity. They will see a King who will handle his armies, who will lead them in any war. They will see a royal couple that will work for them, and not against them. They will know that, by choosing us, they will be protected and taken care of."

Seeing that she was not impressing him with her more abstract ideas, she tried to bring the conversation to a more concrete level, adapted to him.

"Your name is not often mentioned in higher society circles. But, the people - they know your name. They've heard stories, especially from the Carpathian Border War. To the nobles, you are the late King's youngest son, who made a mistake and then lost everything that made him important. To the people, you did what all of them wished they could."

She smiled, if only she had been there.

"Let's say that you have a war hero." She ignored his silent attempt to correct her. "And he loves his country. And he tries to stop his father, then his brother, from ruining it. And he marries a woman who is a competent ruler of a nation well above Leront, in all the ways that matter. There is no city in Moaran without running water. Or any person over ten who can't read or write. Idris Lewa brought our small army's soldiers to the same level as the Free Islands Mercenaries. We are profitable. And the people are content."

Realizing her pride overcame her focus, Amaya returned to her theoretical argument.

"But returning to this potential King. The soldiers will all be on his side - and Leront has many of them, even more have one in the family. They will want someone like him. And his wife?" She took pause. "She will bring the women."

"You will not convince the Council to allow the people to choose and grant women decisional rights in Leront, over the King's will."

"No, that will be the first thing we will fix when we are King and Queen. But for this, I don't need them to. They hold a lot of influence in their homes, and they may want something better for their daughters. Some fathers, good fathers, may want that, as well."

"Women hate you, here." He said it as if it were a fact.

"Not at all. They envy me." Amaya looked for signs that he believed her and found none. "I am free and they are not. I can't tell you how many times I've been asked the most outrageous questions, out of sheer ignorance. How many times some poor girl tried to educate me on some stupid rule that she clearly did not believe in, herself. Trapped by some old lady, in a party corner, while she reminisces about her first love, who happened to be a girl, so now they're both unhappily married to other people."

She smiled condescendingly, "I think it's best you left the people... manipulations, to me. The women of Leront are ready, it's the men who are behind."

He did not like that at all, and she knew it, because it made him talk.

"See, there's a contradiction there. The army is still entangled with the Old Faith, with the old ways. No soldier will want a King who can't control his wife, who will not let them control their wives. It's either the army or the women."

The words were already there, Amaya only had to say them out loud. "Until you are on that throne, they will see the most devoted and submissive wife in Leront's history. I will never contradict you in public and pretend to only be interested in the charming, more suitable activities."

Because he was not voicing any protests, despite the many that made his eyes wide, Amaya continued.

"I will plan every event in your country's tradition from today until the Coronation day, and I will do it perfectly. To everyone else, you will have tamed the harlot," she summarised expertly -- it had been thoroughly rehearsed.

"Doing this, I will immerse myself into circles of powerful, influential women. I will shower them with compliments, imitate them, and promise them a better life. And they will listen. I've started a long time ago, as I've started spreading the stories of your bravery. And your letters."

"You invented... stories?"

"I've merely passed them along. It's the only thing that can unravel our plan: to be caught with a lie about things that matter. I couldn't risk inventing. The love story can be entirely invented, though, if it's properly maintained."

He did not respond, but he seemed more out of his element than before. It gave Amaya confidence.

"Let's say that you have a woman who is unfairly considered a whore, even though she is a virgin, like the Old Faith demands," Amaya almost rolled her eyes saying. "Let's say that she was promised to the second heir of the Leront throne, but she hesitated to marry him because she did not love him. One day, she reads the letters that her future brother-in-law sends from the front, in which it is made obvious that he is the only one who cares about this country. She falls in love, because, you see, she is patriotic too.

She cannot continue with the lie, and she tries to reason with Charles. Let's say he is too proud to accept, so he invents ugly rumours about an affair with the King, questioning her integrity. But she cannot be a conniving whore, because she actually left the man that would've gotten her closer to the throne, for a man who did not stand a chance, at the time."

It brought her his first, wolfish smile. "This cleans up nicely your... reputation problem. With me as the warrantor. It almost makes you a saint," he said, openly amused at the nerve.

"Exactly. This will be the story you tell your best friend, your priest, your mother. At least until we get what we want. Later, we will see how it's more convenient to move forward. Everyone hates Charles, they want him to be lying. They will believe us. Henrik has denied the affair publicly, and personally - it does not fit the 'Religious King' role he likes so much to play, to ease the Archbishop."

And now came the difficult part. "You will have to act in a consistent way with what I've described, at least in public. And in front of the servants. It is very important that they see it, every day. It's how rumours start."

"You want me to pretend," his monotone was back.

"Not very much. I've struggled to find some loving role that would suit your... unique manner -- and all I can say is that I think it would be very visible if you tried to act. Just, try not to make it seem like you hate me."

"That's all?"

"Yes, that is all."

"Fine," he agreed, and Amaya almost made it out of the negotiation getting everything she wanted from him.

But he had one more concern. "In order for this to work, there can't be any... straying. The soldiers will not respect a man whose wife warms the beds of others."

Amaya was insulted, and she let it show in her voice, "I know I can't have affairs if that's what you're worried about!"

"I was thinking more that... it is unfair. To you."

He continued, "The written - and the unwritten - laws punish only the wife for adultery, and, in the Royal Family, that punishment can even be death. This is also connected to the way I believe we need to define our marriage: in a way that hinders both of us the least."

Amaya waited for him to explain, as she did not know where he was going.

"There is no reason to... hide from me. You will see that I designed the tower in a way that lets us appear united, but we will actually be able to live very separate lives. There will be a common area, a private one, shared only between the both of us, and then two separate entries to two completely independent two-floor areas. One for each, in which we'll actually live."

He assured her, "The shared bedroom is a facade one, we won't actually sleep there, it's just a way to each of our beds. I will never go in your private chambers, and you will never come into mine. You can do anything you want in there, and I won't interfere. You can even plan the fall of Leront, it's your business. I will have my office there, as well, where you will not have access."

His pen moved on the paper, "I don't care what you do, so I'm offering you the opportunity to do as you please, without fear of execution or scandal. And without your plan falling apart. Anywhere else, you are going to get caught. Which brings us to the subject of..."

Amaya took a deep breath. "Heirs."

"Yes." He selected his words carefully, then continued. "I don't think it's necessary that they're... mine."

Amaya stared at him, wishing her mouth would close on its own because she lacked the power to do it consciously.

"I like children," he said, as if he was talking about furniture. "I will love them equally, raise them as my own, and never ask any questions. It's not a secret that I'm not particularly fond of blood ties. I don't care that it's not my blood that rules after me. I just want them to do it well, and I will raise them in that spirit. There is no need for us to ever share a bed."

He didn't know how much she wanted to take his offer.

"Please," she said, "with my reputation, they will not only have to be all yours, but they will also all have to have your exact face!"

Amaya exhaled, the matter was unavoidable. In Leront, anything that the wife refused to do in bed was considered non-consummation - one of the only two grounds for divorce. The other was adultery.

It was not a coincidence that he insisted on them, she thought.

"I only need one clarification from you, on this subject."