♦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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Céleste located a rickety chair within the suite and dragged it to sit before the fire. She rubbed her hands together, breathing in the gentle fumes, letting comfort seep under her skin.
Antoine and Sébastien paced behind her.
All three were concerned the Giromian King had figured them out. Sébastien had tried so hard to stay hidden, but his probable failure weighed on their souls and chilled them to the bone. A mist of doubt fluttered overhead, sending shivers up and down Céleste's legs.
"He will think my letter to Prudence was a ruse, and that I came to invade," said Antoine, breaking the silence, sourness spilling from his voice. His footsteps had been the loudest since the two royals had started thundering to and fro.
"Yes, you have declared that fifteen times already." Sébastien walked slower, his shoes barely hitting the floor-boards. But he wasn't any less irritated at the situation, and Céleste could tell from his turbulent, testy tone.
She kept her back to them both, but had no trouble imagining their frustrated expressions. She preferred to stare at the flames, remembering she had two options: be thrown into Romain's dungeon and left to rot, or dragged home by the hairs on her neck by her father, who also would throw her into a dungeon and leave her to rot. So she enjoyed the warmth, telling herself it might be her last time ever sensing heat on her hands.
The suite door banged open, and all three shot towards the noise, on alert.
"Majesty," said one of Antoine's guards, halting at the threshold. "Apologies for the intrusion, but carriages are racing down the bridge and out of Westten. Some Giromian riders, too. Fleeing." He heaved and hunched over, struggling to catch his breath.
"Fleeing?" Sébastien peered at Antoine, then at the soldier. "Fleeing what?"
"Giromian riders?" Antoine strode up to his man and hauled him upright. "Who? Romain?"
The guard, still winded, shrugged. "Too far to tell, Majesty. Some wore uniforms, a few of them appeared to wear armor—"
"—armor?" Antoine stomped away and groaned as he tipped his head back to scowl at the ceiling.
Sébastien shooed the man out and sealed the door behind him. "Armor."
Céleste blinked at them both and set her hands on her hips. "Armor? Am I missing something?"
"Armor, to prepare for a battle. Romain is rushing off because, as I said," Antoine sent a piercing glare at his brother, "he fears invasion. I guarantee Prudence was in one of those vehicles. He escorts her out and hopes to draw me out, too."
Sébastien huffed as he trudged over to the windows, wrenching the curtains apart. "But my message..."
"He got your message, dammit!" Antoine growled as he tugged through his greasy locks of hair. "Seventy-five percent, remember? That blasted Cornelius was likely one of the other armored riders. Of course he would egg this on, he would insist. He and his dreadful family thirst for blood. Mother said his miserable father helped Gregor kill Philippe. And now he wants to help Romain murder me."
