**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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♪ I am not a legend, I'm a fraud So keep your heart, 'cause I already got one ♪ {Halsey—I am not a woman I'm a god}
"And what do you think you are doing pacing in front of my room?" Heat rose up Cordelia's neck, swirling up to her cheeks.
As far as she was aware, she was no prisoner in this castle. If she wished to leave, she would; and Antoine had no right to lock her up in her room, not anymore.
"I..." He flinched, scrubbed his face, then gave her an apologetic look. "I only meant that you appear quite determined to go somewhere, and I should like to know where."
"Ah, because you are the King?" Cordelia sensed her voice scratching down her throat. Defiance was not a good idea, not with Helen's life on the line, and yet her timbre was out of her control.
"Because I am your brother," said Antoine, softly. Too soft for Cordelia to recognize him. "And I am concerned, and I have come to... will you grant me access in so we might talk in private?"
Cordelia peered into the corridor—a handful of soldiers had accompanied Antoine, and were waiting a dozen feet away. A few curious heads were poking out of nearby bedrooms, spying on the scene.
"Indeed," she said, moving away from the door to let Antoine in. "But only because I am sick and tired of rumors and those who listen in to spread them," she added, purposely loud enough for anyone tuning in to hear.
She closed the door and rested against it, watching as Antoine meandered into her living room space. He didn't sit, but gestured at one of the chairs, indicating that she should.
Her nose wrinkled, and her mouth opened to spit out how this was her room and she would sit if she needed to; but Antoine extracted something and tossed it onto the table, which drew her attention, stopping her before she grew too impolite.
She slithered over to see that he'd brought with him a book—the book.
The Golden Girl. He kept it? He did not burn it?
"A good conversation starter," he said, wandering over to one of her bookshelves, tapping his fingertip to the spines as if counting them, taking each name to memory.
Cordelia gulped, unsure how to respond. It was a touchy subject, and one she'd thought would be overshadowed by her other predicament. But it seemed Antoine hadn't forgotten the book and what its re-appearance in his life signified.
Though she didn't want to sit, her legs had started trembling, and she didn't want Antoine to notice. She lowered onto the wooden seat and placed her hands in her lap, clasped.
"I am trying to figure out how to forgive you for this," he said, keeping his back to her, still analyzing the books on her shelves. "How to understand why you wrote it, why you hid your identity for so long, how someone so young could write such... things. And how to make our interests... common. Work for us both."
