Chapter Three
Later that afternoon,I find myself wishing for simpler times even more fervently. My fingers drum the mahogany table in a restless tattoo as I wait for the guillotine to fall. There must be bad news — that’s the only possible reason for this double-team meeting with both Gerald Simms, the Palace Press Secretary, and Lady Morrell, my official etiquette tutor in all matters royal.
They sit across the table, evaluating me with their beady-eyed stares. Inspecting me feature by feature, as you would a used piece of china.
Checking for chinks in my armor, no doubt.
It takes all my self-control not to fidget in my soft cashmere sweater, not to smooth out imaginary wrinkles in my fitted black pants just so I have something to do with my hands. I keep my posture casual, as though I’ve not a care in the world, but my heart is racing as I wait for one of them to speak.
Simms finally breaks the suffocating silence. “Thank you for coming, Your Highness.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes; it’s not like I had a choice in the matter. “Your note requested myimmediate presence. Here I am. Both immediate and present.” My eyes narrow a shade. “Are you going to tell me why, or do you expect me to start guessing?”
“That will not be necessary,” Lady Morrell says primly, staring down her hooked nose at me.
Simms sits up straighter in his seat, the action straining the buttons of his navy herringbone suit. “We are waiting for Her Majesty before we begin.”
“Octavia?” I hiss. “What the hell does she want from me?”
“Language!” Lady Morrell admonishes.
“Tell me what she wants or I’m walking out that door.”
“Princess Emilia, please.” The roll of fat beneath Simms’ chin quivers. “We are not at liberty to discuss this matter until she arrives.”
“Screw that.” I push to my feet. “I don’t have any interest in a damn word that viper has to say.”
I hear Lady Morrell gasp, but it’s quickly drowned out by an arctic feminine voice that pierces the room like a thunderclap.
“Sit. Down.”
My muscles tense. With defiant eyes, I turn to meet her — my loving stepmother. Octavia Thorne. Former Duchess of Hightower. Current Queen Consort of Germania.
Her auburn hair is pulled back in an elegant twist, her rail-thin frame ensconced in a demure designer dress. The massive yellow diamond pendant around her throat — one of the famed Lancaster family jewels from the palace vault, no doubt — looks heavy enough to double as a free-weight during a workout.
Hatred boils through me, fast and fierce. No one else on this earth has the ability to inspire such a negative reaction.
“I said,” she snaps, striding into the room on her stilettos. “Sit.”
I don’t move a muscle. “I am not a dog to be commanded.”
“No.” She smiles, and it’s bone-chilling. She comes to a stop less than a foot away from me, her blue eyes so cold they could freeze me on the spot. “You are an irreversible stain on this household, marring our very fabric. Something to be concealed with a brooch or a pin. At least, until the garment can be permanently altered. Until the stain is cut out and discarded like a piece of rubbish.”
My spine stiffens. “Are you threatening me?”
“And why on earth would I need to do that? You’re going to do what I say regardless of your protests.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Oh? How is your friend Mr. Harding faring these days? Still free from criminal charges last I checked, is he not?” Her smile widens. “A state I’d be happy to rectify with a single phone call, I assure you.”
I hold my ground, but a bolt of unease shoots through me at the mention of Owen’s name. It’s not the first time she’s threatened my best friend. Now that Mom’s gone, he’s the closest thing I have to a family.
Or… he used to be.
Searching for a way to control me, Octavia dug into his past and discovered his ties to several anti-monarchist affiliations. Nothing extreme — non-violent protests on our college campus, the occasional political rally — but that doesn’t seem to matter to her. Owen’s become leverage in this unfortunate power struggle we’re locked in; a tool to bring me to heel.
His continued freedom in exchange for my cooperation.