After her disappointment at breakfast, Isabelle couldn't bring herself to face an afternoon pent up in the queen's sitting room. Over breakfast, she'd asked both Sam and Violet if they'd care to join her in exploring the palace, but the pair of them had exchanged an uncomfortable look.

"We've agreed to join the whist tournament that Cora and Henrietta are organizing," Violet said finally. "I'm to play with Henrietta while Cora plays with Sam..."

Isabelle's eyes had strayed to where Cora was holding court beside Henrietta at another table. The blonde's eyes had been on her, sliding away when Isabelle had looked over. Cora's lips had curved into a smile as she listened to Henrietta's conversation.

So this was how she'd be punished, then. Rather than ostracize both Violet and Isabelle, Cora was drawing Violet back into the fold to isolate Isabelle even further. Pairing Violet with Henrietta sent a message that Violet was very much a friend and not someone who should be ignored by the other debutantes. It made sense, especially now that Violet was receiving the attentions of one of the court's most eligible bachelors.

Before the all-encompassing dread that everything was spinning out of her control could overwhelm her, Isabelle had excused herself from the breakfast table and fled to her safe place.

The solar was dim and quiet in the dreary morning light, but a fire had been lit to chase the gloom. Outside, the flaming colours of autumn cut through the grey morning air, the dark, wet bark of the trees making the leaves even more luminous.

With her father's letter wedged into her corset and weighing heavily in her thoughts, Isabelle turned to the bookshelves lining the back wall. There had to be something useful here, perhaps something on the history of Pretanian relations with Germania. At the very least, she could hunt for a distraction so the mounting anxiety within her would remain at bay until that evening, when she would have another chance to corner the prince.

If he even attended that evening's ball.

Banishing the thought, Isabelle forced her mind to remain calm as she scanned the shelves. There was nothing that could answer any of her questions, but there were still plenty of fascinating books. Pulling out the book on codes and ciphers that she hadn't finished reading, she settled herself on the bay window seat and prepared to while the day away.

Towards noon, when the clouds had finally cleared and Isabelle was thoroughly engrossed in deciphering a practice code, the solar door opened. She glanced up instinctively, only to return her attention to the book as her stomach coiled into a delighted little knot.

"What do you want?" Isabelle asked the prince, her eyes locked onto the page. She focused on the chill of the windowpane behind her rather than the man standing in the doorway. Graham waited a beat before speaking, attired in a sharply tailored black jacket and trousers, formalwear befitting a session of the king's council.

"It is my palace, you know. I have every right to be here. More so, perhaps, than you," he said, turning away from her to peruse the shelves. He made quite the show of paying even less attention to Isabelle than she was to him and, to her, that was quite fine.

Especially since her thoughts kept returning to the last time they'd been alone in this very room.

Chasing such thoughts away, she remembered the letter wedged in her bodice. She needed answers and, by some miracle, the one man who knew anything useful had found her.

"Of course, your Highness," she said smoothly. "May I ask what brings you here?"

He paused, his hands in his pockets as he turned to study her. She ducked her head under his scrutiny, returning her gaze to the book in her lap.

"Besides your objectionable choice of attire?" he asked, his gaze dropping to her tartan sash. Isabelle bristled. "You should have heard mother go on about it," he continued. "Count your lucky stars that you had me to defend you, otherwise you'd be on the road to Kentshire as we speak."

"Why would you waste your precious royal breath defending me?" Isabelle asked. "You've clearly tired of me, if last night was any indication."

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, her horrified eyes leaving the book on her lap to gauge the prince's reaction. The prince's brow furrowed with amusement as he regarded her, as if puzzling something out.

"No further demands to be released home? How interesting," Graham mused. "What's even more interesting is that I've succeeded in making you jealous again."

"I most certainly am not," Isabelle replied, trying not to bristle. He laughed, that arrogant grin back in place as he crossed the room.

Isabelle found herself leaning away from him as he approached, all too aware of his presence as he flopped down onto the bay window seat next to her. She forced herself to focus on the book in her lap rather than the heat rising in her middle at his proximity.

"Your face last night suggested otherwise," he said, reaching over to tip up the spine of her book for inspection. "Codes and ciphers? I thought it was all poetry and love stories in here."

"It was tucked away on the shelves," she said. "Though I was under the impression that someone had been curating the books that rotate through this particular room..."

He slowly turned his head towards her, staring at her with amusement until she relented and met his gaze. Something lingered in those emerald depths, but he wasn't looking at her expectantly. It was almost as if he was debating with himself as he watched her.

Isabelle realized she'd been holding her breath when he sighed, apparently having made up his mind.

"I think I shall have to confiscate that," he said, plucking the book from her clutches before she could protest.

"There are a thousand books on those shelves, why must you take the one I'm reading?" she demanded, reaching for it until he held it at an arm's length away. To reach any further would mean nearly tumbling into his lap and she realized that was most probably what he'd intended. She reeled back and crossed her arms instead.

"We can't have future Germanian queens learning Pretanian ciphers, now can we?" Graham asked, amused by her reaction.

"Then if you won't give me back my book, at least answer a question for me," Isabelle said. The idea had occurred to her as she'd pulled away from him, intent on using his own game of rapidly changing the subject to catch him wrong-footed. It was a bold move, but she needed answers that he alone could provide.

"A question?" he repeated, pleasantly surprised. "What could a meddlesome prince like me possibly know that you'd be interested in? The latest court fashion, perhaps? Because even I know that it's not Kentshire tartan."

"I want to know what's happening in the king's council meetings," Isabelle said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. Graham's eyebrows rose with genuine surprise before he turned his gaze to the book in his hands.

"Dare I ask why you have such a sudden interest?" he asked, his voice quiet in the silence of the solar.

"A little bird tells me that I should be curious," she said. A smile flashed across his face before it returned to being unreadable.

"So you have been listening," Graham mumbled, as much to himself as to Isabelle. Once again, he seemed to be debating something as he turned the book over in his hands.

"Why don't we make a trade, then," he said finally, turning his attention back to her. She was unnerved by this quiet, pensive version of the arrogant, self-assured crown prince she'd grown used to. Clearly whatever had transpired in the council meeting had brought on this change of demeanour, which made her both curious and apprehensive.

"A trade?" she asked. He nodded once.

"You answer my question and, in return, I answer yours," he said.

That look had returned to his face, the same look that had made her hold her breath the last time he'd cornered her in this very room.

"What question is that?" she asked, unable to tear her eyes from his.

"If Leopold arrived tomorrow, would you leave with him?" Graham asked. Isabelle's hand went instinctively to her bodice, pressing her corset against her skin to be sure her father's letter was still concealed there. Why had Graham asked her that? It was almost as if he'd known the contents of the letter...but that was impossible. It had arrived sealed and she had been the one to break it open.

Unless there was some other reason he was asking...

"No," she said, hoping that his reaction would give something away. His green eyes held her gaze before he nodded once, his eyes dropping to the book. His face, however, betrayed no emotion. No hint of a grin or a wince, simply the stone-faced expression of a king.

"The law will pass," Graham said, still not looking at her. "It took quite a bit of negotiation, on my part and the council's, but he's agreed to sign it."

"What law?" Isabelle pressed. Graham glanced over at her, so lost in his thoughts that it was as if she'd forgotten that she was there.

"It has to do with inheritance," Graham said, watching her. "The nobility now has the right to pass property, possessions, and titles to their first-born, regardless of their gender or marital status, provided there are no other direct heirs."

The room spun, Isabelle's hands flying out to prevent her from falling off the bay window seat under the weight of such information. So caught up in her racing thoughts, she hadn't realized that one of her hands had settled square onto the prince's thigh.

Such a law would mean that property rights could be passed down to heiresses, as long as there was no other direct male heir.

That changed everything.

Isabelle would no longer a trophy attached to her lands. She could be a duchess in her own right. She wouldn't have to marry a man to keep her home and its bountiful farms and mines, she'd inherit it all in her own name. She'd have a title of her own without needing a man to validate it.

This was why her father had sent her to Highcastle. If she'd married Leopold as she'd wanted to months ago, she would never have been able to reap the benefits of such a law. Leopold would want her bound to him before any such legislation was signed, since she would no longer need him to inherit Kentshire.

It meant she could be free, if she chose to be.

But that would mean breaking her betrothal to the only man she'd ever loved...

She looked up at Graham, snatching her hand back when she realized the firm, warm cotton beneath her hand was his leg and not the seat cushion. He smiled down at her, something rueful in his eyes.

"Congratulations, your Grace," he said. She opened her mouth before clamping it shut again, grasping for words that wouldn't come. Graham watched her with that same, sad smile before the neutral stone mask of a king slipped back onto his face. He rose with an easy grace, setting the book of ciphers down beside him.

"I must admit, I'm quite proud that you came up with that question all on your own. Apparently you have been paying attention to all my lessons," he said, his trademark arrogance back in place.

"Why did you ask me about Leopold?" Isabelle asked, reaching out to seize a fistful of his jacket sleeve to prevent him from leaving. He looked down at where she'd grabbed him before looking back up at her.

"To decide whether I was going to tell you the truth," he said. She released him, frowning.

"You would lie to me about something as important as this?" she demanded, rising so he wouldn't tower over her quite so much. Whatever she'd felt soften at the rueful look in his eyes hardened back to ice.

"No, not willingly. You, of all people, should be among the first to learn about what transpired today. That is why I sought you out when you weren't with the rest of the debutantes. I came to tell you because I thought you had the right to know, the right to make up your own mind," he said, drawing himself up to his full height. For the briefest of moments, Isabelle could see the king this man would become, determined and relentless, pragmatic and assiduous.

He paused, the facade crumbling as he inhaled, steeling himself.

"But I had to know whether you'd stay, before becoming a duchess was an option," he said quietly, that rueful look in his eyes for the briefest of moments before it disappeared again.

For once, there was no acid reply on Isabelle's lips as he bowed to her, turning on his heel to leave. He'd rendered her speechless, with all his talk of her right to be informed about the new law. Arrogant, self-important Prince Graham believing that a woman had the right to decide her own future. Perhaps the man behind the crown wasn't all sarcastic laughter and petty jibes after all...

"Thank you for telling me," Isabelle said as Graham's hand closed around the door handle. He paused before pulling the door open, glancing back at her with a nod before he disappeared.

**A/N: The great mystery is revealed! But now what to do with such information? Some part of Isabelle still loves Leopold, but she definitely can see the appeal of refusing to marry until she's certain it's for her and not her land...what do you think she should do? How do you think Leopold will react to all of this? And why do you think Prince Graham helped push the legislation through? Is it all just for his goal of keeping Kentshire, or was there some other motivation as well?

SO MANY QUESTIONS!!! haha

If you enjoyed it, please don't forget to vote and comment! I'm really interested to hear what you think about this one, since it's one of the major plot points of the entire story :)**