Chapter 6 Genevieve
Genevieve
When I wake, I’m lying on something soft and supportive.
My eyes focus on Gabriel’s and Astoria’s faces, close enough to startle me.
Their masks are off, and both wear expressions marred with concern.
I’m no longer outside; instead, I’m on a couch in an alcove beside the ballroom.
These small sitting rooms have curtains that can be drawn, but from the light I can make out past Astoria’s head, they haven’t been.
“Slowly, Genny. Don’t sit up just yet,” Gabriel mutters when I try to lift my head from the pillow.
“What—what happened?” Memories of Kieran’s caress, of the way he called me Gen, rush back, and I force myself upright despite Gabriel’s admonishment. “Where did Kieran go?”
Astoria and Gabriel exchange a puzzled look. “Kieran?” Astoria asks, her brows knitting as she glances toward Gabe. His expression is unreadable as he gives her a slight shake of his head.
“Mr. Blackwell is Kieran Greenbluff.” My words come out in a hiss, and disbelief only deepens on my siblings’ faces.
“Genny, Kieran has been dead nine years. I spent all day with Mr. Blackwell. Do you think I wouldn’t recognize my closest friend?
” Gabriel’s voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear him.
I glance around again, noticing the crowd just beyond us.
We have an audience, and Gabriel doesn’t want our words carried to the court.
“But—but he was there. He was…” I let the words die on my tongue as I see two masked figures approaching.
It’s Mother, and behind her, Prince Leland. She lifts her mask, studying me closely. “Darling, you must be overtired. Prince Leland has offered to escort you to your rooms.”
I hesitate. We’re supposed to declare our engagement to the court tonight. I need to convince the entire kingdom—and Prince Leland’s retinue—that I’m serious about this marriage. “The engagement announcement?”
“Your health is the priority,” Leland answers with a gentle smile. “There will be another day for that.”
I nod as he places his gloved hands on my upper arms, helping me stand and offering steady support that, to others, looks like a gentleman escorting a lady—not a woman clinging to a man she hardly knows like a last refuge.
I straighten my spine, despite the fact that all I want to do is collapse.
I don’t make a fuss as Leland leads me toward the door, though I’d much prefer it were my father—or even Gabriel—walking me back to my apartment.
I don’t know how I can face Prince Leland, not with the confusion running rampant through my mind.
The only man I ever loved, the one who broke my heart, a man I thought dead all these years, has returned. And returned for me. But that path is closed. My duty is to my people and to Leland now. I can’t let Kieran—Mr. Blackwell—distract me from that duty.
“Your sister said you had another glass of wine. Do you think it caused you to become overset?” Leland asks as we walk the halls toward my rooms.
I shake my head. I cannot tell him that the man he believes to be a trusted friend is someone I once knew intimately.
“Do you know how I got inside?” I inquire. “The last thing I remember was walking onto the terrace to find you.”
His grip on my arm is light, offering just enough support to steady me. It’s polite and gentlemanly. “Unfortunately, I stepped away with my sister and General Pryor. I suppose Prince Gabriel found you.”
“Of course. You weren’t there.” I nod as I pull the key to my apartment from a discreet pocket hidden in the folds of my skirt. “Thank you for escorting me to my rooms.”
His eyes meet mine, two cool chips of ice, but his face is warm, his expression sincere as he asks, “May I join you in your sitting room? Just to get to know you better.”
All I want is a moment alone to sneak down to my glasshouse and calm my raging nerves. But how can I refuse him? We were supposed to grow better acquainted tonight, and with the court distracted at the ball, this may be one of the few moments we have alone together for days.
“Of course. Come in.” I open the door just enough for him to slip through, ensuring no one sees us before locking it securely behind us. A fire crackles in the grate, and a small plate of refreshments waits on the sideboard.
“Would you like anything to eat?” I offer, gesturing toward the food. I’ve had little since early afternoon, but I can’t eat now—not with my mind flashing back to Kieran’s face.
“Yes, actually—I’m famished,” Leland says, helping himself to cheeses, cured meats, and vegetables.
While Leland makes a plate, my mind drifts to Morris Blackwell. He must have been Kieran. No one else has ever called me Gen. But why would he stay away from me all these years? Why did he leave me in the first place? His brief letter of farewell was so curt, so harsh, and I never understood why.
I think back to the night I brought him to this very room, not as a friend but as a lover. How he touched me with such reverence, such adoration. No one has ever treated me like that. Our whispered words of love are etched into my heart even now.
The argument we had afterwards all because I was afraid of what the court would say after Kieran asked me to marry him—shouldn’t have ended us so easily.
He shouldn’t have left after one difficult moment.
The way he avoided me for days afterward stung deeply, and as a young woman, I hadn’t known what to say.
I bring my attention back to Leland, who gives me a warm smile as he pulls out a chair for me. I sit beside him, letting him tuck it closer to the table.
“Would you like anything?”
“Perhaps a cup of tea.” There’s a fresh pot, steam curling from the spout.
“Of course. How do you take it?” he asks with a casualness people rarely use with me.
“With a bit of milk, please.”
Leland walks to the sideboard, his white evening wear still perfectly pressed.
He moves easily through the room, as though he’s already comfortable in the space—and it puts me on edge.
Few people other than my closest family or servants have ever entered my private quarters, not since I learned the effect my magic can have on others.
When he returns, he joins me at the table and offers another one of those friendly smiles.
I only wish I weren’t so distracted—so tangled inside—that I could at least try to enjoy this moment.
It’s what I’ve been hoping for: a chance to get to know Leland, to make this engagement into something more than a contract.
But now I don’t know if I can, at least not this evening.
Not with my emotions twisted in knots over Kieran’s return.
I wordlessly sip my tea as Leland talks about the various members of the court he’s already become acquainted with.
Try as I might, I can’t seem to focus on the mundane conversation; my thoughts keep spiraling with the knowledge that Kieran is at Fairbright Palace.
I still don’t understand why he’s returned after all these years—and now he’s disappeared before I can even ask him why.
Abruptly, Leland frowns at me, pulling me from my distraction. Did he say something I should have answered differently? I can’t even recall the last thing he said.
He stands and runs a hand through his sandy-blonde hair. “I should go.”
“Please, stay. I’m happy to have your company.” The lie falls flat, and I know I haven’t been convincing. I’m not even convincing myself that I want Leland to stay.
He shakes his head, a hint of disappointment in his expression. “No, I’ve intruded on your evening. After fainting, you should be in bed resting, not listening to me prattle on. It was rude of me to impose like this.”
I rise with him, relief washing over me. I’m so tired. I need time alone, time to think about what I’m going to do and let my emotions settle.
“I apologize that I haven’t been a better host. Can I see you tomorrow?”
He steps closer, his brilliant eyes sparkling. “I’d like that. Genny, I want nothing more than for our engagement to lead to a happy union.”
I offer my gloved hand, and he presses it to his lips. “I want that as well. Tomorrow, then?”
“I look forward to it,” he replies as I unlock the door. As I watch him walk away, I see him remove his mask from his jacket pocket and slide it back over his face.
The sigh of relief that escapes my lips as I close the door behind me makes me ashamed.
I should want to spend time with my fiancé.
I shouldn’t be distracted—or thinking of another man.
Even if the thought of marrying Leland fills me with doubt, I have a duty to both our countries to fulfill our alliance.
It’s the only way to prevent the growing unrest between our borders and those of Wylan.
It’s the practical choice for producing heirs and being the queen Naseria expects me to be.
Besides, Kieran has had nine years to return to me. Nine years, and not a single letter. No indication that he wanted me back, or that he was even alive, for that matter. Why would he return now, only to build the railway? He didn’t want me. He left me and forged his own path without me.
It’s been so long since he left that I know I can let the past die and work with him in a professional capacity—after I recover from the shock of seeing him alive. As queen, I won’t have a choice but to work with people I may not like. This will be no different.
I slide off my gloves, stretching my fingers before moving to the armoire to take out a dressing gown.
Reaching behind my back, I work at the laces of my corset.
It’s not the easiest task, but at least this gown doesn’t have intricate buttons over the corset, and I’m so desperate for a bit of solace that I don’t want to bother my lady’s maid, Trudy, for help.
Knowing her, she’s probably downstairs flirting with the handsome footman I’ve seen her talking with.
Once I’ve changed out of my ball gown and into my dressing gown, I slip on a pair of older slippers with sturdy soles and grab the oil lamp from my dresser. I make my way to the bookshelf, knowing it isn’t a book I need tonight—it’s an escape to my private glasshouse.
Pressing on the book that isn’t truly a book feels like second nature, the worn latch clicking out of place as I swing the secret door open and step into the drafty stairwell. The scent of wet stone and damp air clings to my skin, but it’s a comfort to me. It’s the scent of freedom.
I push open the heavy wooden door that leads to the private family gardens of Fairbright Palace, taking steady steps as I cross the lawn to my safe haven.
Tucked away in a far corner of the gardens, my glasshouse is all my own—a hothouse built for my collection of rare tropical plants.
Plants so unsuited to life in Naseria that, at sixteen, I begged my mother for a place to store my growing collection.
It’s been mine ever since. My refuge and sanctuary from life at court.
As I open the glass door, the humid air settles over my skin, the scent of earth and greenery hanging heavy in the air. But that’s not all. There’s another scent here—a spicy, masculine scent.
I’m not alone in my glasshouse after all.