♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE PREQUEL, THE GOLDEN DUCHESS, TO READ THIS BOOK!♦
BEWARE--spoilers in this blurb, for those who have not read previous books! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
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The world is upside down, and those you thought you knew... you no longer...
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Despite having lingered in the Winter Garden long after Antoine left, and getting into bed much later than customary, Céleste couldn't sleep past seven o'clock the next day.
As she stared at the clock, she yawned, stretched, and prayed for a day of rest; with no surprises from her father, no secret conversations with the King, no forced tea dates with Charlotte.
The cold wooden floor sent a chill up her legs as she put on her night-robe and walked to her armoire. Before she made it a few feet from her mattress, she noticed something on the ground in front of her door.
She tiptoed closer and found a folded parchment with a glimmering stamp atop it—and frowned.
"No. No summons. I am not in the mood."
She snatched the note and huffed at the sight of the royal seal as she unrolled the paper.
Dearest Céleste Richel,
It would honor me greatly if you joined me for breakfast today, in the Dining Room, at eight-thirty.
Sincerely,
Her Majesty, Queen Adelaide of Totresia
She grunted as she set the letter on her coffee table and plopped into one of the chairs. "It is unlike our dear Queen to be so to the point. What does she have up her sleeve this time?" She rubbed her forehead. "What would she want with me?"
Being in the Queen's presence was never pleasant. Céleste remembered Prudence's anxiety whenever she had to meet with Adelaide, and grimaced as the same sentiment filled her with dread.
Still boiling from her father's request, Céleste hastened to get dressed, opting for a baby blue gown that would radiate innocence and hopefully calm; one never knew what mood the Queen would be in. She pulled her curls up halfway and puffed them for volume before pinching her cheeks for color. After slipping into some comfortable shoes, she shrugged on a pair of white gloves and took off.
Her dread worsened the closer she got to the Dining Room. For an instant she debated running outside or hiding in the Winter Garden and wasting time until the Queen sent someone to drag her to their meeting. Yet her feet carried her without fail to the location, and she took a deep breath before pushing the doors open.
Inside, a flock of ladies hovered at the end of the table, whispering amongst themselves while sipping on tea. The Queen sat at her dinner throne, draped in crimson, her skin paler than usual, her shoulders hunched. She seemed elsewhere, unaffected by her ladies and their chatter, staring into her cup with little enthusiasm.
Céleste sucked in her belly and proceeded onward. As she neared the crew of women attending to Adelaide, she smelled a trap. But Adelaide spotted her and perked up, meaning it was too late to turn tail and return to her room.
