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each other compatible.”
    “More than compatible. I hope our three girls are as lucky as we.”

CHAPTER 6
    “W ILL YOU ACCEPT ME as your escort, Highness?” A lanky, brown-haired young man with a proper court queue, about a year older than Linda, bowed before her and her ladies. His clear brown eyes sparkled with a bit of humor and more than a bit of mischief. She found herself grinning at him.
    Jensen, her father’s squire, hovered behind them, not at all happy to escort
girls
shopping when he could be drilling with
men
in the practice arena. But he came alert at the sudden appearance of the almost familiar young man.
    “Master Lucjemm.” Linda nodded her head. At last she’d found the name of Lord Jemmarc’s son floating around her memory, just out of reach until she saw him and recognized his face. “If you have the patience to examine ribbons and laces in all the stalls on Market Isle . . .”
    “A small price for the right to escort you, Highness. And possibly show you some of the treasures you might not notice at first look.” He bowed again, not exactly graceful or practiced, but less awkward than some seasoned courtiers.
    She wondered who on the Council had sent him. His father certainly. But who were his allies?
    A diversion. If she found she liked him, maybe she could dangle him before the court as a potential and eligible suitor, long enough for them to forget about bringing P’pa’s
bastard
to the palace as the heir.
    She should be the heir,
S’murghit!
    Linda looked to Miri and Chastet for agreement. They hid giggles and rolled eyes behind delicate handkerchiefs. They each took the opportunity to smooth their light brown hair to ensure tidiness and therefore attractiveness. Linda decided that that was agreement to include the young man in their entourage. She didn’t quite have the nerve to draw attention to her own gold/brown/red locks by tucking a stray curl behind her ear. That seemed the height of vanity.
    “You are welcome to join us, Master Lucjemm. Jensen, you may return to your duties with my father.”
    Lucjemm added his own dismissal to the young man with an anxious gesture. Then he offered Linda his arm.
    Jensen scooted away without a backward glance.
    Um. What was the royal protocol for this encounter? She was the Princess Royale; he was the heir to one of the great lords on the Council of Provinces. She outranked him and should therefore remain one step ahead of him. Taking his arm would keep her beside her. An intimate position due a suitor . . . Um.
    Miri and Chastet were no help with their barely suppressed giggles, exchanging whispers and thinly veiled glances beneath lowered lashes.
    She’d never had a suitor before. She’d never taken any man’s arm, except her father’s, since she had become an adult.
    Not knowing what else to do, Linda slipped her hand around his proffered arm.
    “I let you win that bout in the practice arena yesterday,” he said quietly, looking straight ahead so that she couldn’t see his expression beyond a stern control of the corner of his mouth that wanted to quirk upward.
    “Oh?” She tried to arch one eyebrow like Papa did, but failed miserably. “I did not know that you, or anyone, recognized me.” She wanted to frown sternly but his smile was warm and inviting. She couldn’t remain stern and disapproving for long.
    “We were told by General Marcelle not to recognize the anonymous ‘boy’ who only came to practice when the king did, and always showed up already armored and helmed with queue fully hidden, and never lingered for conversation and steed play among the other boys.”
    “If you did not ‘recognize’ me, why did you let me win?” Now she was angry that Papa and General Marcelle had not allowed her to properly judge her swordwork by honest bouts. How could she learn her faults if they always “let” her win?
    “To see how you took your victory. And to learn your faults.”
    She nodded, accepting his strategy.