Marguerite, the former Duchess of Torrinni, receives two letters that will change the course of her life forever; and that will impact young Céleste Richel's life too, in more ways than one.
*****
When Marguerite is forced to return to Torrinni cour...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The yellows and oranges from the torchlight by the kitchen door danced, hypnotizing, engulfing.
Marguerite rubbed her arms as a chill cruised through the landing. Why hadn't he sent a page to advise her he wouldn't come? She'd been standing there for fifteen minutes, yet it felt like hours had passed. The surprises of the night had exhausted her and she neededto discuss them with the King.
Had he chosen to ignore her? Or had Clémentine intercepted the note? Marguerite had understood the risks, but she'd had to take them. To warn Antoine the game he played wouldn't end well. And despite the pain he caused her, she owed him respect. For Edouard's sake.
As she refocused on the candlelight, the service stairs croaked.
Vicious visions of Clémentine filled her mind.
Has she found me?
Her heart pounded with such intensity she was sure whoever descended would hear it. But as she pivoted to the staircase, her shoulders relaxed.
Antoineemerged, holding a lantern. His messy mop of obscure chestnut and brassy brown cramped beneath his tricorn hat, and the edges of his wool travel cloak flapped against his bright red breeches.
"Maggie?" He slowed as he reached the last step.
"Your Majesty," she lowered into a curtsy, "thank you for coming."
Uncertainty lingered in his expression. "You realize the risks?" He blew out his lantern and deposited it on the steps, next to Marguerite's extinguished candle. He took a handful of strides in her direction, but maintained his distance. "And here, too? Mother has ears everywhere. She informed me she warned you yesterday."
His spicy musk wafted into her nostrils. "I had to." She stepped backward to escape his scent. "Why is Schwartzhere? Why does his King plan to arrive soon?"
He let out a snorting chuckle; one lacking the charm his laughter usually carried. "Right to business, eh? Thatis what this was about."
"What did you think it would be?" She scoffed. "My feelings regarding you have not changed, but this takes precedence. What is happening?"
He released a weighted breath. "Romain will be here next week. We discovered this last night and finalized the decision this morning."
The meeting Adelaide mentioned—was it about the Giromians?
"Who else knew?"
He averted his gaze and huffed. "Mother, of course. Sheorchestrated it."
Marguerite shuddered. "And Adelaide?"
That prompted him to glower. "Why would that matter?"
"Because she allieswith your mother! This bothered you the other day, no? And word has it your wife had no trouble allowing the Giromians into the castle." Folding her arms, she dug her fingernails into her sleeves. "Neither did you, it appears. Why? What is wrongwith you?"
