♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE PREQUEL, THE GOLDEN PRINCESS, TO READ THIS BOOK!♦
BEWARE--spoilers in this blurb, for those who have not read previous books! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Kings. Queens. Princes & Princesses. Duchesses and Dukes. And... regents?
Eve...
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The Ballroom was packed. Nobles huddled in corners, smooshed against walls, whispering, questioning. Some were under supervision for their involvement in the deadly plots; others watched, terror-struck at the turn of events. Betrayer guards were chained up by legitimate soldiers, and Henry's men—now under Marguerite's command—surveyed the perimeter for stragglers.
The buffet had been cleared, the alcohol put away, the decorations hung limply from sconces, and the musicians went home. One would never guess a party had been in process a few hours before; instead, the room looked like a crime scene.
Servants dragged off Henry's body after Marguerite placed a wet kiss atop his forehead. His removal eased some of the heaviness in the air, but the world still spun and Marguerite had difficulty keeping her head up.
Seated on her throne, she oversaw the arrests, listened to the pleas, waved off those she didn't wish to speak to. But when Angélique arrived before her, cuffs around her wrists, she stilled.
"You."
"I turned my coat for you, Majesty," said the girl, in a blurry mix of tears and whimpers. "His Grace Henry... he held me in the Armory, waiting to incriminate Schwartz. But he disappeared. He was to check in an hour before the festivities, but never did. Then your King came in. Everyone recognized him and panicked. But he demanded help to attack Cornelius head-on, and those who swore allegiance to you did not refuse. I warned him that I believed Duke Henry was in trouble..."
Antoine strode up to her side. "I figured everyone associated with you, Majesty, was in danger." He peered up at Marguerite in awe, perched on her throne, towering over him, for a change. They hadn't yet exchanged awkward pleasantries, as he'd been busy chaining Cornelius and organizing the criminals by level of betrayal. "I asked them to give me a fifteen minute delay so I might find this Henry. Your cousin, yes?" Marguerite nodded. "They were to meet me at the Ballroom, but I found a corpse propped up behind the curtains in a hallway near here. The blood, and his shoes sticking out... a guard accompanying me identified him, and I chose to act fast. I guessed Schwartz was responsible."
Sébastien popped up on Angélique's other side. "Of course he is."
Glaring at Cornelius, who had heavy bangles on his wrists and a gag dangling from his neck, Antoine grunted. "He tried to trick you with a dance," his nostrils flared as he returned to Marguerite, "the audacity. I am glad I did not wait until the guards joined me."
Adelaide's squirms and protests of innocence broke through their conversation. Neither Marguerite nor Antoine had hesitated to see her weighed down by metal too, because no matter how she proclaimed her lack of involvement, they knew she'd pulled the strings as much as Cornelius, if not more.
Slouched, contained, captured at last, Cornelius remained on his knees, off to the side of the dais. His foul wife fidgeted on the opposite end, purposely separated from him.
