**THE PRINCESS SERIES is part of the GOLDEN UNIVERSE, and considered a sequel to THE GOLDEN QUEEN/A BRAZEN LOVE**
♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE GOLDEN UNIVERSE NOVELS AND THE BRAZEN NOVELS TO READ THIS SERIES! AS WELL AS BOOK ONE, PRINCESS OF CANDOR, AND...
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♪ And the shot goes through my head and back Gun shot, I can't take it back ♪ {Lykke Li—Gunshot}
Cordelia woke the next morning, shocked that she'd slept at all. She'd been unable to move once Helen departed, and had cried so much she'd left wet spots all over the sheets. She'd even lacked the energy to get up and put on a night-shift, and had remained in the nude for the whole night, cuddling pillows in place of her beloved.
Fixing the puffiness under her eyes proved to be a nightmare, but the vanity and face-paint products available in her room were a large help. After an hour of fussing over what to wear and why it even mattered, Cordelia was up and awakened and ready to start the day—whatever new torment it brought to her.
By eight o'clock, a cup of tea and a croissant were delivered to her, but no letters, no threats from Sir Richel; so far, her final tryst with Helen had gone unnoticed.
Unless he opted to scold her, instead.
The word scold scorched a hole in Cordelia's heart, and she prayed that Richel hadn't touched a hair on Helen's body.
She sipped on her beverage, uncaring of the heat as it swarmed down her throat. How would the snide Marquess react to his supposed future wife and her lover canoodling under his roof, under his watch? He wouldn't take kindly to their antics, and Cordelia expected Jules, Helen, and she would get in trouble for it, at some point.
But no scalding words came from outside; no disruptions but more tea that Cordelia had requested, and a light lunch around noon. She kept as busy as possible, reading through books at the speed of lightning, peering out the window at the cherry trees and their swaying branches, wondering how they smelled up close. She envisioned Céleste walking through those orchards with her brother, Emeric, as she'd told Cordelia many times she had. They'd run, climb, steal cherries, and hide in the Gardener's Cottage at the end of the property to devour their treasures.
Céleste hadn't changed much, though she'd been forced to slow down when pregnant. Emeric, on the other hand, showed very little of his former self, of the malicious youth he once was, according to his sister.
Lost in her daydreams of anyone but Helen, Cordelia nearly dropped her plate of mini croissants when the door opened abruptly. No knocking, which usually signified bad news.
She turned from her seat to see Sébastien in the threshold, but there was no alarm to his features, no readable distress in his expression. "Are you busy?"
Cordelia scrunched her eyebrows. "Reading every book this room has and stuffing my face with croissants, but no. Why?" She winced at her tone; her voice was raspy with disuse and she spoke in a manner she didn't recognize. Was that grief? Anger?
Sébastien gestured at her to join him. "I have secured somewhere for us to sit and have tea. For you to," he pinched his lips, "get out and stretch your legs."
