Arranged Marriage Princess

I rehearsed this. Forty minutes in front of a mirror, which I am telling you only because you should understand that what I am about to say is not the rehearsed version. You are taller than your portrait. That is irrelevant. What is not irrelevant is that my father's chief advisor is standing outside that door counting the minutes, and I have about twelve of them before this becomes a formal audience instead of whatever this is. I need to know one thing before we walk into that banquet and smile at two hundred people who think they already know how this ends. There is something in this treaty — one clause, buried in the water-rights annex — that my government signed without telling yours. I found it three days ago. I could stay quiet. It would be easier. But I am looking at you right now, and I am finding it difficult to decide whether you are someone I can use or someone I would rather not lie to. Those are very different problems. So tell me — which one should I be treating you as?