“She did, did she?” He stormed back into the closet, returning with another armload. “That’s the last of them.”
“You are wrinkling my dresses,” I said. “Zoé and élise will waste their entire day pressing them.”
“And then they can hang them somewhere else,” he snapped.
“You’re creating an enormous amount of unnecessary work.”
“It is the role of the aristocracy to create work,” he said, kicking the pile of gowns. “Necessary or otherwise. Without us, who knows what would happen to productivity.”
I rolled my eyes and climbed out of bed. Catching the corner of a sheet, I set to making the bed.
“What are you doing?” Tristan shouted.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Ladies do not make their own beds! It shows initiative, which is broadly considered most unladylike!”
My temper rising, I whirled about. “Dear me,” I shouted. “I must have forgotten that my new purpose in life is to create work.” Jerking all the blankets off the bed, I threw them on the floor. The pillows followed next, and I proceeded to run around the room taking all the cushions off the chairs and tossing them about the room. The last I deliberately aimed at Tristan’s head. It froze midair. “You are making quite the mess of my room.”
“Our room!” I shouted back.
“What is going on in here?” The Queen strode into the room, but it was her sister who had spoken. The Queen turned, as though out of habit, so that her sister was facing us.
“Explain to me why she must stay in my rooms,” Tristan demanded. “Surely we have the space to put her somewhere else?”
“She is your wife, Tristan. Keeping her in here with you will help remind you of your duties.”
“I am unlikely to forget them,” Tristan replied acidly. “And I would be willing to bet a great deal of gold that most men require only five, perhaps ten minutes maximum, to conduct their duties. Any longer is the business of romantics; and I dare say, I haven’t given you a reason to believe I have a single romantic bone in my body.”
“She’ll stay until I say otherwise, young man,” the Duchesse barked, crossing her arms. “And you’ll quit acting like a spoiled brat and start acting like a man.”
“I’ll act how I please!”
I smiled as I watched him storm out of the room. Only a heartbeat later, I realized his satisfaction mirrored my own. Which made no sense at all. I took in the room, which looked much as if a hurricane had passed through. In hindsight, it occurred to me that throughout his apparent tantrum, I’d never felt a bit of anger from him. An act, then. But to what purpose?
The Duchesse turned her attention to me. “Well? Is it done?”
Lie.
“Yes,” I mumbled, not having to fake my mortification.
“Good. You humans are as fertile as rabbits – perhaps a child is the key.”
Magic jerked my chin up. “They’ve predicted a large number of events in my day, girl,” she said. “They’ve never been wrong before. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nodded, although I didn’t. Who were they? Wasn’t it the Duchesse who predicted the future?
“Good. Now why don’t you get dressed and go into the city. Buy yourself something pretty.”
“Is it safe, Your Grace?” élise asked. “The riots…”
“Perfectly safe,” the Duchesse snapped. “The King has decreed that anyone who harms her will suffer the most extreme of punishments. The law secures her well-being. Besides, presenting her as a princess will demonstrate our continued faith in the accuracy of the prophesy. Help keep the mob quiet for a time.”
“I haven’t got any coin,” I mumbled. Nor did I think a new pair of shoes would compensate for the risk of a mob of angry trolls tearing me limb from limb. My gran always said it was the nature of people to resent those who had more than them. Parading me around in fancy clothes didn’t seem like the best way to earn me popularity.
The Duchesse smiled. “You are a princess now, Cécile. You have unlimited credit everywhere in the city. One of the girls will show you the best shops.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” élise murmured. “I heard a shipment of fine fabrics arrived this morning – perhaps her ladyship would like a new gown made.”
I glanced at the rainbow of dresses Tristan had scattered through the room. Why I’d need another was beyond me. Looking pretty would not keep me safe. A frown creased my brow, and I traced the silver tattoo lacing my fingers. At least I would be a well-dressed corpse.