I squinted at her. “Why, is it out already?”
“Behind you.” On one of the other stoves sat a full coffee pot. Swearing under my breath, I grabbed us each a mug and the pot. “Need help finding the cream and sugar?” I peered over my shoulder, narrowing my eyes while I shook my head.
Ava was pouring the hot liquid into our cups, hers all the way to the top.
“Didn’t sleep well?” I asked.
“Was out late.” She locked eyes with me for a brief second before spooning out some sugar. I pulled up another stool, bringing it close to her.
“Anything else?” She hovered the spoon of sugar over my cup. “Yes, please.”
Dropping the white sweetener in my cup, she looked at me, her other hand on the glass decanter of cream. I nodded. Watching her movements, she gracefully poured cream in my cup, stirring it in with the spoon in her other hand. Placing down the decanter, she clinked the spoon against the rim of my cup.
“I want to hear about your night,” I pressed, clasping her hand. A small gasp left her throat as she nervously looked around, and I grinned. “Worried about gossips?”
She shook her head. “No. Just don’t want to be a topic of conversation.” I laced my fingers between hers, feeling the soft flesh against my calloused one.
“You already are, Avie. Once you stepped foot in that door, you were the highlight of everyone’s chatter.”
The side of her face scrunched. “Not a very pleasant thing to think of.” I rubbed my thumb along the inside of her palm, taking pleasure in touching her. This innocent part of her body made me think of not so innocent things.
“Let me give you something else to think about then,” I offered, adding more pressure. Her mouth dropped slightly, looking at our joined hands. Thinking that I was getting her mind to drift off in another direction, she surprised me when she brought her head up.
“You're a bad influence, Garrett Cranfield,” she scolded, yanking lightly on her hand. I kept my grip, touching her hip with my free hand. My knees were on either side of her, but she wasn’t as close I wanted her to be. Ripping her off that stool and having her pressed up against me still wouldn’t be close enough. My need to have her increased with every moment she was looking at me, laughing, and every second she existed.
I leaned closer to her, breathing in deeply. “Why would you say something so cruel to me?”
She grinned, picking up her glass, focusing straight ahead. “I’m sure you’ve heard much worse.” Bringing it to her lips, she took a sip.
“But it hurt coming from you.”
She glanced over with a raised eyebrow. “Why?”
“No man wants to look unfavorable in a beautiful woman’s eyes.” Twirling in her stool to face me, she opened her mouth to speak, but a loud clash of pots or pans crashed on the floor. Our attention witnessed Mr. Liason barreling into the kitchen, his face flush from running.
She jerked her hand out of my grasp. “What’s the matter, Mr. Liason? Are you okay?”
He struggled to catch his breath, looking at her with wide eyes. Two young maids dashed in behind him, blanched with teary eyes. Alarm rose within me, immediately standing, the wooden stool scraping against the floor.
“What is it?” I ordered harshly. My first thought was George, trying to remember what he had planned today. The looks of the staff set me on alert; it reminded me of how one of the butlers appeared when they told me George was almost killed by one of our guards. I needed to leave and find him. Turning on my heel, I made my way for the door until the next words halted me in my steps.
“It’s Lady Madelyn. She’s dead.”
∞∞∞
“We’ll need a full investigation done on this,” Father announced, breaking the silence of the room. He removed his crown and placed it on the mantle, raking his hands through his gray hair. The four of us—George, myself, Father, and Cecilia—sat in the war room.
“John is already on it.” I informed him. “We will interrogate all the cooks and maids in the palace. No one is allowed to leave until it is finished.” My attention was on how Ava was faring, and if the coffee had made her ill as well. Just as the news was given to them, Lucy showed up and I had ordered her to take Ava to her room, promising to be there soon. I wanted to stay with her, comfort her, kiss her into oblivion, but my duty halted me from such things.
Madelyn was poisoned, as well as a few others who drank from the same pot of coffee that morning, and I feared Ava was going to suffer the same fate. The notion turned my stomach in knots.
“Well done,” my father replied, nodding his approval.
“I want another taster,” Cecilia stated.
“You already have three, my dear,” he reminded her, and she shot him an incredulous look.
“Is there a limit on how far you have to go to keep your wife and Queen safe?” she questioned harshly. He sighed, but didn’t answer.
“Father,” I said. “Hara is travelling back home today. She should be here by early afternoon. I will need a few of your guards to intercept them, to make sure she arrived safely.”
“You will do no such thing!” Cecilia roared, standing from her chair. Father placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her down to take her seat again.
“Take what you need,” he reassured me. “I want a guard at her room as well. When does your mother come home?” Cecilia seethed in her chair.
“I believe in the next few days. She said she would send me a messenger, so I know when to prepare.”
“No one cares if that whore lives or dies,” Cecilia growled. “You are putting the king and my son at risk by taking vital men away from their personal care!”
“Enough!” Father roared. Cecilia jumped in her seat in surprise. “If you don’t shut your mouth, woman, you’ll be personally removed from the room.”
“Mother, will you please write to...her family?” George asked. “Tell them what happened, and that she can be buried here or sent home.”
Cecilia reached her hand out to touch George’s. “Of course, my dear. Anything you need me to do. I’ll also respond to some letters I’ve received on the marriage matter.”
“What marriage matter?” George asked, pausing to take a drink of his brandy.
Cecilia straightened her gold gown and stood up regally. “I know it’s a sensitive subject right now. We can discuss it at another time.”
“What marriage matter, Mother?” George asked, more sternly. I stepped behind his chair to show moral support. I rarely saw him snap at his mother. She had something up her sleeve. Big surprise. Cecilia looked shocked at her son’s outburst before she quickly recovered, which turned into a look of annoyance now that I was in her line of sight, but she focused her attention on her only son.
“Now that you are without a prospect of a wife, we’ll need to look for another one.”
George looked at her as if she had gone completely insane. “Another one?” George repeated in a dangerous tone. “Like she was just something I bought or traded for? She was a good human being!”
“She wasn’t ever going to be your wife!” Cecilia exclaimed. “That woman couldn’t handle a card game, let alone a kingdom. Your father told me that you would be rid of her.”
George looked back at me. “I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her yet. When Ava and I—”
Cecilia smiled and clapped her hands together. “What a marvelous idea! Ava. We can make Ava your wife.”
“No!” George and I both said in unison. Father looked at both of us, baffled.
“We’ve already been through that.” George quickly said. “We aren’t doing that to her again.”
“She will do as she is told!” Cecilia bellowed. “You are the future king.” She looked at her husband. “Tell him. Tell him that it is what we want. You wanted it; we went through all the trouble of locking her away to keep her safe.”
“No,” George said flatly again.
“She was raised to be your Queen since she was a child. She already has the training and the—”