♦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!
••••
The world is upside down, and those you thought you knew... you no longer...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Emeric slammed the bedroom door in Céleste's face. "This time, you will stay in there until I give further instruction!"
Céleste had gotten perhaps two words in before he yanked her upstairs, reminded her of her place, made it clear women shouldn't make assumptions, shouldn't be alone with the King, and certainly shouldn't feed folks lies and theories. She'd insisted they weren't lies—but Emeric insisted that if they came from Princess Prudence of Giroma, they had to be.
His temper was so vivid, so violent, so unlike the boy she'd grown up with. If she'd told him who really gave her the intelligence she'd handed to Antoine, Emeric would have summoned their father—and that would have been signing her death warrant.
Her only escape was out the window, which wouldn't be that bad of a drop. Or to feign an illness so severe Emeric had no choice but to let physicians in to check on her. But he'd read through her; he'd taught her everything about sneaking around, but now, as main heir to their family, he'd matured. He was bitter, unrelenting, unwilling to listen; a far cry from the adolescent who'd showed her how to spy and eavesdrop on important conversations.
Though he'd made it obvious he'd allow Sébastien to call on her, he also promised he'd ensure the Prince got wind of her antics and plots.
"He will not grant you freedom to roam the castle after I chat with him," he'd said with a sneer, uncaring as ever.
Time passed—minutes, hours, half the day—and she feared Emeric was correct. She received no word from Sébastien, no notes, no hint of life, and overheard nothing from the guards in the corridor. The chambermaid who brought her dinner had nothing to report aside from preparations moving along for Jules' and Charlotte's wedding in a few days.
"Must he be so close-minded?" She huffed, falling into her couch cushions halfway through her supper. "I will not rest until I know for certain that Antoine will not attack Giroma, and Prudence understands I am all right. Until they make up and live happily ever after, as they were meant to."
As she tried and failed to sleep, she wondered how Antoine had reacted to the letter. Would he believe his mother, or dismiss her based on her past of lying? Would he investigate, visit her, summon her? Or scrunch up the note and let Emeric whisper in his ear about invasions and impossible-to-win wars? Emeric perceived peril in Romain, Prudence, and their mother; he viewed them as enemies of the kingdom, and with the news of Philippe and his assassination, Emeric would push for his own agenda. For Totresia to exact revenge on Giroma.
"Or," she flipped from her stomach to her back, "will Antoine send the letter for me? Wishing for Prudence to be aware that she, too, is in danger? What will that knowledge do to him? Oh, dear... I should have let Sébastien speak to him first."
She tossed and turned for hours, worried Emeric might instead rally the rest of the council members to have a conversation with Antoine. Armed with all he'd read in Céleste's letter, he could easily convince everyone else to start a war, to avenge Edouard's long-lost brother, and they would all persuade the King.
