He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, and as his eyes connected with mine, I saw something new in them—a challenge, and perhaps a warning.
To keep my mouth shut. To play my role.
My temper bucked like a stallion. I squeezed Aemonn’s fingers until his knuckles popped. He only smiled wider and tucked himself into my side.
He dropped another casual kiss along my neck, leaning in until his lips brushed my ear. “Play nice,” he murmured.
“I look forward to our House Reception tomorrow,” Evrim cut in. “We have much to discuss.”
“Oh?” I feigned lightness as I struggled to yank my hand from Aemonn’s grasp.
“I hope Your Majesty has a strong plan for retaliation against the rebel scum responsible for the recent attack on my armory.”
If only he knew the rebel scum most responsible was staring right at him.
“Given her youth, Her Majesty has delegated such important matters to me,” Remis said. “I’ll be happy to discuss it with you tomorrow.”
Evrim frowned at that. He gave Remis a once-over that stunk of disapproval. “I see. Very well—until then.”
I nodded and threw a wink at Evanie, who giggled, then at Lorris, who went wide-eyed and fled.
Even before they were introduced, I knew the next House was House Hanoverre. With their upturned noses and sneering upper lips, they made no attempt to disguise that they had judged me—and found me lacking.
Iléana, of course, was front and center, hovering at the hip of her grandmother Marthe, the elderly matriarch of their House. Their too-loud grumbles contained scathing commentary on everything from my dress to my demeanor to my upbringing.
The real surprise was the warmth with which they were greeted by Aemonn and Garath, the latter rushing forward to plant a series of theatrical kisses all over Marthe’s cheeks and her ring-bedecked hands. Aemonn lit up as he shook hands with Iléana’s older brother Jean, who gave my breasts a lewd stare before dismissing me entirely. Even Remis jumped into the fray, breaking from my side to chat loudly with Iléana’s parents.
I leaned toward Eleanor, the last remaining member of my entourage. “Should I wander off to the bar and see how long it takes them to notice?”
She covered her laugh with a cough. “Don’t take it personally. House Hanoverre is even more obsessed with breeding than House Corbois. Their sigil is a single drop of blood on a white rose. They claim they’ve had no mortal blood enter their line since Lumnos’s mortal lover, so that single drop is the only impurity they’ll ever have.”
My eyes dropped to the filmy white fabric of my skirts and the scarlet dot along the hem where Henri’s blood had fallen earlier in the night.
“Perhaps you should flirt with Iléana’s brother,” Eleanor joked. “Make them think a Hanoverre could be King Consort and test their commitment to their principles.” She gave a soft snort. “Rumor is that he’s a frequent customer of the mortal brothels.”
“So mortals are fine to take pleasure from, but not good enough to marry or bear their children?” I asked.
“If House Hanoverre had their way, there would be no mortals in the realm at all. Poor Jean might actually have to persuade a woman to bed him instead of paying them to do it.”
My manufactured calm was wearing dangerously thin. “House Hanoverre,” I called out loudly. “I’m so happy you could make it to my ball.”
A group of scowls turned my direction.
Marthe took a few steps toward me. The elder woman’s movements were shaky as she leaned on Iléana’s arm for support, but her look of malice was as steady as stone.
“How could we miss your ball, after such a spectacle at your funeral yesterday?” she asked.
A sharp gasp skittered around the room.
“My apologies—the King’s funeral,” she croaked with a wry smile. “With all that occurred, I almost forgot that event was meant to be about someone other than you.”
Remis and Aemonn shot me looks of warning, while Garath’s smirk said plainly, Go ahead, dig your grave.
Any other day I might have bent to the old crone’s provocation. But Iléana’s haughty chuckling lit a very different kind of fire.
I let loose a forlorn sigh and hung my head low, making myself the picture of penitence. “I must apologize for my missteps. I have certainly learned the importance of surrounding myself with the right advisors and trusting in their wisdom.”
Aemonn straightened and smirked, but I turned my smile instead on Eleanor, reaching out to clasp her hand. I swallowed my pride and gave a respectful nod to Remis, as well. His responding smile was tight, but he made a show of accepting my acknowledgement.
I looked back to Marthe and threw her a bright, charming smile. “I do hope you can forgive me. I promise you, in the future, I shall be far more prepared for any challenges that come my way.”
Marthe lips pursed into a thin line. “It’s quite unusual to have a candidate for the Crown who is unknown to the Twenty Houses. So much about you is a mystery to us all. Your parentage. Your magic.”
Iléana patted Marthe’s arm and made a soothing noise. “We’ll see her magic soon enough, grandmother.” Her spear-sharp eyes turned to me. “When she fights at the Challenging.”
I fluttered my lashes and looked up to the heavens. “I cannot say why Lumnos chose to bless me with the Crown and with the strongest, most powerful magic in the realm. I’m sure she had her reasons—and I would not dare to question the wisdom of the Kindred.”
Marthe huffed. “Let us be grateful the Blessed Kindred had the wisdom to give the rest of us free will to make our own choices.”
I gave her a restrained smile and beckoned to the next House in the receiving line, ready to bring this painful interaction to an end.
“I expect you to honor the late King’s agreement of betrothal between Luther and my Iléana,” Marthe declared. “They’ve been promised to each other nearly since birth.”
I held Marthe’s stare, though I could see Iléana’s shit-eating grin from the corner of my eye. I frowned and cocked my head curiously. “How interesting. I have had so many conversations with Luther, and not once has he mentioned a betrothal.” Finally, my focus shifted to Iléana. “In fact, he said you were nothing to him at all.”
The look on Iléana’s face…
Every struggle, every loss, every moment of fear and panic, every agonizing humiliation, every last heartbroken tear I had shed because of a gods-damned Crown I never even wanted…
Iléana’s outraged expression made every second of it worthwhile.
I might die a bloody death in the Challenging, but with this perfect memory tucked in my pocket, at least I’d die happy.
I let a hint of the grin I was holding back shine through as I shrugged. “As you pointed out, the Kindred did bless us with free will. I expect Luther will exercise his. He can choose for himself the woman he desires.”
I bathed in a moment of glory as Iléana went downright apoplectic, but my joy was cut short. Instead of looking perturbed, Marthe’s sneer curled higher, turning wide and triumphant.
“How interesting you should mention your close relationship with the Prince,” she said smoothly. “I’ve heard a quite upsetting rumor that you posed as a mortal healer in order to gain access to the late King throughout his mysterious illness. I heard you even enticed the Prince into bringing you to the King’s bedside the very same day His Majesty died.”