“I will see Master Egan and the commander in an hour,” Eloisa said as she walked out of the bedroom. “Bring them here to my parlor. That will suffice until we work out better arrangements.”
King Stefan had had several audience chambers of varying size, from his small private study to the eight-man council chamber to a room that could seat ten times that and the Salt Hall itself. But other than the study, which adjoined his apartments in the far end of the western wing, the others were located near the Salt Hall and presumably no longer fit for use.
Sophie could understand why Eloisa didn’t want to go to her father’s study. It was one thing to know that he was dead. Another to face the reality of belongings and places no longer required. She remembered helping her mother clear out her grandmother’s rooms after the older Sophia had passed away and the unexpected tears that had risen over the smallest things. Eloisa seemed in no mood for tears. Nor would she want to appear weak as she took over the court.
As Eloisa left the room, Naiomi started assigning tasks with rapid-fire orders. Sophie was assigned to writing notes to the council members and to others who would be needed to put arrangements in place. Honoria scored the same task. It was hardly exciting but needed to be done, and Sophie was glad to have something to do that would put her out of the Domina’s reach.
She and Honoria fetched notepaper printed with the princess’s seal and retired to the workroom the ladies-in-waiting shared to begin writing. As her pen dipped into ink and touched paper, each stroke formed carefully so as to be clear and elegant enough to pass Lady Beata’s standards, her thoughts began to wander. Back to the library and the small green book. Amplification. She had never heard the term before. She remembered that she needed to invite Chloe de Montesse to take tea. Which first meant getting her mother to agree to hosting such a guest. She added “see my parents” to her growing list of things to do. She could speak to her mother at the services for seventh day. And perhaps Madame de Montesse would be available on second day.
She wrote three notes and then a fourth. That one was addressed to Liam Mackenzie, who had technically inherited his father’s seat on the council. Eloisa was free to change her council members, of course, so Liam’s tenure might be short-lived. But the Inglewood holdings and the extent of their influence at court made Sophie think it unlikely. True, Liam might have to work to retain the power that his father had established, but from what she’d seen of him over the last few days, she had no doubts that he was capable of doing so.
She took extra pains with his note. He was, after all, her future brother-in-law. But as she was reaching for a fifth sheet of paper, Lady Naiomi bustled into the workroom and told Sophie that the queen-to-be wanted to speak to her. She could see Honoria practically biting her tongue to stop herself from asking what was going on. Thankful that Eloisa’s command gave her a chance to escape any questions, she put the notes aside.
She walked back to Eloisa’s apartments more slowly than might have been strictly prudent. She didn’t want to see the Domina again so soon after what had happened earlier. Eloisa seemed well, but Sophie didn’t trust Domina Skey to want to experiment further with what exactly she could accomplish with Sophie’s power.
But perhaps the Domina would have returned to the temple. With a king’s funeral rites to hold and then a coronation to perform, not to mention the backlog of burials that must be waiting, surely the temple had enough pressing issues to hold Domina Skey’s attention now that Eloisa was healed and presumably out of danger. On the other hand, retreating back to her temple would mean seeing less of the queen-to-be. Somehow Sophie doubted that the Domina was going to give up the influence she seemed to have gained since the attack.
Eloisa was in her parlor. And, Sophie noted thankfully, there was no sign of the Domina. Just a steady stream of servants and ladies-in-waiting ducking in and out with messages and papers and notes. Eloisa shooed Beata, apparently returned from her nap, out of the room.
“Close the door, Sophie.”
Sophie did so, wondering what was about to happen. Trying not to feel nervous. This was Eloisa, not the Domina.
“You should know that I intend to announce your betrothal at my first audience,” Eloisa said, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. “The court doesn’t need the eligible lords being distracted from the work we need to do. Best to make it clear that you are not available as soon as possible.” She paused a moment, leaving Sophie wondering if she was supposed to offer an opinion. As she had no wish to become the center of a court power wrangle, she stayed quiet.
“You and Cameron are a good match,” Eloisa continued. “The court will accept my decision.”
That wasn’t strictly true, but Sophie wasn’t going to argue. Cameron was far preferable to any of the other likely candidates. For one thing, she knew that he was a good lover. And more important, she knew that she liked him and that he seemed to like her—though the court wouldn’t care about that. They would care only that Eloisa had made a choice and how strong she was in enforcing her will on the court. “Yes, milady.”
“You should wear something suitable. I will not keep mourning for my father. Margaretta may, but I will not decree it for the court. We need to show strength, not weakness.”
“Yes, milady,” Sophie repeated. “My mother was bringing a dress for my Ais-Seann celebrations. I’m sure it will be suitable for the audience, if you want me to wear it. Do you intend for the betrothal ceremony to be held at court?” Sometimes such things were. But generally only when the husband-to-be was someone higher ranking than Cameron.