Lady Mei arrives in the middle of the crowd, and I squelch the guilt that sprouts within my chest at the sight of her. I opted against bringing her early with Lord Aaron and Molli—she’s just so notoriously indiscreet. I have to draw the line somewhere.
None of this lessens the ache as she blows me a kiss over her lace-clad shoulder and turns to squeal over the miniature macarons.
Lady Giselle barely glances at me as she completes her greeting and goes straight to Lady Cyn’s side like a magnet, but Lady Nuala pauses to grip my hand. She leans forward and whispers, “I must apologize again for my behavior at the assembly. I know you must have realized what was actually meant to happen.”
I raise my eyebrows, insinuating agreement without actually saying anything.
“I considered it later, and you were absolutely right. Even if you had been more embarrassed by my…my actions, it would still have reflected badly on me. I should never have agreed to a scheme from which I had nothing to gain.” Her face is red, and I don’t dare glance at Lady Cyn to see if she’s watching us.
“Indeed.” I hold her stare but let a firmness slip in. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been so used. I recall another encounter with Lady Cyn.”
Lady Nuala’s face drains of blood until her cosmetics look garish on her ashen skin as she plainly remembers that awful day. “I should not…I should not have—”
“No,” I say, gently now, letting her a little off the hook. “Despite a certain lady’s opinion, one cannot tell someone’s potential by their current court ranking. An enemy can be quite expensive.”
“I will remember, Your Grace,” she says in a whisper.
“Very wise,” I say softly, squeezing her fingers. “A young lady who continues to show such wisdom will always be welcome in my circles.” She smiles with naked relief, and I can’t help but feel I’ve made a sort of conquest. I catch Molli’s eyes as a shaken Lady Nuala leaves me, and she returns my secret smirk.
Fifteen minutes pass before a soft chime dings through M.A.R.I.E.’s camouflaged speakers, signaling the arrival of all the guests. The doors automatically swing shut, barricading the intimate party inside. We all find our seats, and I beckon to one of the bots to bring in its silver cart, laden with delicate teapots.
“Please eat,” I say, gesturing at the lovely food as I take up the hostess role of pouring and distributing the tea.
When everyone has a cup, I glance up at the clock. Half an hour of food and drink. Then I’ll bring out the cosmetics. Half an hour to change my mind—to send everyone home after a relatively uneventful tea party with fabulous appetizers.
It would be enough.
I don’t have to do this.
My teacup clicks against my saucer, and I tighten my grip to stop my fingers from trembling.
What if I don’t? I’ll be stuck fending off the perverse sexual appetites of a sadist with no one to hold him in check. My mother assures me knowledge is my best protection; that forewarned is forearmed. But is it truly? Once the vows are spoken, the nuptial contracts signed, I’ll be his wife, but that won’t be the end of my mother’s plotting.
I’ll be an adult by that time, of course—I could seek an annulment, or file for divorce, or just say no. I could use the Queen’s shares and build an alliance against the King instead of for him. But the moment I refuse to cooperate, I become a loose end. When I first fled Versailles I was afraid, but I didn’t yet fully appreciate the complexities of blackmailing so powerful a person. Whatever precautions my mother has put in place, I have no reason to suppose that they will work to my benefit. And once we’re married? Then what? How can a murderous King possibly be good for anyone in the kingdom? No one would be safe from that kind of power.
She has a tiger by the tail, but I’m the one staring up at his fangs. This is the only way I can restore myself as mistress of my own fate.
Though I raise my warm teacup to my lips, I don’t drink. My stomach is too nervous. Hopefully no one will notice. That’s what the food is for—a gourmet distraction. The chatter in the room rises at exactly the time I expect it to. Tummies are full, blood sugar is elevated, and the enjoyable part of the party is beginning.
Now or never.
I tap the edge of a crystal champagne flute with a small sugar spoon and wait patiently for the roomful of guests to turn to me. Once they do, I open my mouth, then freeze, petrified by the reality of what I’m about to do. Damn Saber and his sinister warnings! But my eyes find Molli’s smiling face, and somehow I remember to breathe, and like snow melting under the warmth of the sun, I can move again.
“Thank you so much for coming today,” I say, in the same voice I use for the King. The voice that says nothing in the world could give me more pleasure than being right here, right now, doing exactly what I’m doing.