“Of course,” I say, and I hate the bright, beaming smile she graces me with at my words. I worked so hard to keep both Lord Aaron and Molli out of it and failed miserably.
“Be careful,” I warn, because I must say something, but Saber’s warning is bitter in my mouth as I repeat it to Molli. “A little goes a long way.”
I hold out my hand, but my fingers are trembling. Can I truly give it to her? To Molli, who feels like the only innocent thing left in my life? Lord Aaron is already using; Saber’s very existence is a sad testament to mankind’s selfishness; but Molli is so true and loyal and pure. I open my mouth—to say what, I don’t even know—but my hands shake so badly I lose my grip on the container and it clatters to the floor.
We both freeze when it lands—facedown, if that’s lucky—next to a shimmering, jeweled shoe. I somehow already know whose face I’m going to find when I raise my eyelids.
His Highness stoops and picks up the canister without so much as glancing at its label or contents, and proffers it to Molli. “Yours?” he asks, barely waiting for her silent nod before dropping it into her gloved palm. “Come dance with me,” he orders, yanking me alongside him toward the dance floor before I can say a word.
I’m not sure how I manage the steps of the dance as horror fills me. Was I going to give it to her? Would I have changed my mind? I don’t honestly know the answer. But I suspect in the end I’d have let her have it, and that kills me inside.
At the end of the party, Saber sees me to my chamber, and I wait while he slips out the back door to my father’s office—there to mix a double batch of new cosmetics. I don’t offer to help. If he wonders why, he doesn’t say.
After checking the back door to my suites and counting to one hundred, I slip out and make my way through the snail-spiral of rooms that belong to the King. Unable to locate him via Lens—and unsure of the wisdom of arranging a meeting by com—I continue trawling his rooms until I find his private office door locked.
I raise my hand and knock, and butterflies take flight in my belly. I’ve not changed from my ball finery, and I try to remember how elegant I look. How Queen-like. I must use every weapon in my arsenal to make this happen.
Several seconds pass—did I wake him? Or fail to wake him? Is he consulting with M.A.R.I.E. as to the identity of his visitor, or dithering over whether to admit me or send me away? I suppose he could simply be ignoring me. Finally, weasel-faced Mateus pokes his head out and glares before stepping back to let me through.
“Leave us,” I say with a wave of my hand.
I’m certain Mateus looks to his sovereign before obeying, but I don’t turn to check. The door clicks shut behind me and I approach the King’s desk. There I stand, my hands loosely clasped in front of me.
His Highness is almost ready to retire. He’s removed both his jacket and waistcoat, and his long hair is tied back and away from his face—but his tablet is still out, and he’s scribbling at it furiously with a stylus. Drafting legislation, perhaps, or approving purchase orders. When it comes to profits, political influence, and power, you can use any one to buy another; the King, scarcely older than me, has all three. It’s too much for any one person. Lets him get away with murder.
With a sigh, His Majesty taps his stylus a few more times, then leans back, unfastening one more button on his linen shirt. “Yes, my love?” His tone is so sharp it could almost erase the reasonable pseudo-friend of this morning.
I refuse to cringe. “I’ve reconsidered,” I say flat out. “I’ve come here to accept the offer you made to me earlier today. I was”—I swallow hard as the dream of his ruination drains away—“I was emotional and irrational. Understandably so, I think. Your offer was exceedingly generous, and a few hours of contemplation have shown me the wisdom of accepting it.”
An oily smile crosses His Majesty’s face, and I hurry to continue lest I lose control of this situation entirely.
“I do have a few requirements. With my mother so very sadly deceased, I feel it would be in exceedingly poor taste not to have my father in attendance at my wedding. Therefore, I propose he remain here until we both leave together, a few days after the wedding. Well, all three of us. I shall still require my secretary to continue to manage my affairs.” I can’t quite hold his gaze as I add that last bit.
It’s the most important part.
I have to take him with me. I have to find a way. If I take the King’s offer, I won’t have to pay for my escape, so I’ll have my Glitter profits. Much as the thought sickens me, if I have to buy Saber from Reginald to free him, I will. It’s a temporary solution—I’ll never know peace while the King knows my whereabouts, but Saber’s freedom is more important.