♦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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Prudence once found the Westten Castle Ballroom to be overwhelming. She recalled it filled with life and music, sprinkled in gold and silver, lavish with delectable treats and comfortable chatter, colorful gowns twirling, and frilly frock coats spinning.
But now, it was dark, abandoned, and reeking of smoke. Though the fire hadn't reached it directly, a haunted haze loomed, and a burnt odor imprinted in the fabric of the thrones.
Yet, even in its happier instances, the Ballroom held no decent memories for her. The last time she'd been within, she'd spent the evening desperate for her mother's affection, praying for her brother to forgive her, and hoping the Giromian nobles would accept her.
The Giromian Princess, raised in Totresia, was now Queen Regent of Giroma. As such, she sat on Romain's throne, her skin crawling with goosebumps and her tongue tasting like acid. How she wished the cushions she perched on still smelled like her twin, and not like impending doom, past mistakes, and crippling pain. How she yearned for another whiff of his rosy scent, for a glimpse of his vibrant eyes, for a burst of his japes in that demeaning voice of his.
"Prudence." Antoine's voice—far from demeaning—seeped into her reverie. He knelt before her, clutching her hand in his, his mouth pressed to her glove. "My... Your Majesty." The words rolled off his tongue with ease, as if he'd practiced them for years. He might have, as she was once to be his Queen.
She'd loved him, hated him, loved him again, lost her virtue to him, despised him, and now... she had no idea what he meant to her.
She nodded at him. Flushing, her heart swelling, her lower abdomen tightening. But her lips wouldn't tug into a smile. She worried opening her mouth would lead to comments she'd regret, and for the thoughts she'd intended to keep to herself to pour out.
"Antoine," she managed, gulping down all the terror in her throat.
How to express her appreciation to him without engaging in an hour's long conversation about their future? He'd come so far for her, wishing to whisk her off her feet and haul her back to Torrinni, to protect her... but he'd jeopardized his country for it. For her. Anything she'd say might delay him, and he couldn't waste time.
Her lungs loaded with air. "I... I cannot begin to explain—"
"—you have nothing to explain." He tugged her a few inches forward. "You did not summon me here. If anything, you advised against it, and I would not listen. And now..."
"We have made things worse," she said, chewing on her lower lip, dropping her chin.
Antoine raised it. "I made things worse. I hate to abandon you after the chaos I caused, but..."
"... but you must return to Totresia. To save your throne." She batted her lashes, hoping to erase any hint of sadness, to stop the tears before they fell.
