Chapter 22 #2
“No. I was fortunate.” She lifts one shoulder in a small shrug.
“Louis will find contentment and respect from his wife. How long have you known one another? A month? Please, Addison. We both know that’s not long enough for him to change his entire life.
Neither of you has ever had a long relationship. This is lust.”
“That’s offensive.”
I add more paint to the canvas as the silence lingers.
She’s not wrong about duty and alliances and the weight of a crown.
I understand that intellectually. But understanding something and accepting it are different, and I can’t accept a future where Louis spends the rest of his life with a woman who doesn’t fulfill him emotionally.
“You saw what she did to him, and you’re willing to ignore that,” I say.
The queen’s expression changes. “I saw a complicated situation.”
“Complicated? You’re downplaying what happened.
” I keep my voice steady, even though my hands want to shake.
“She climbed onto his lap without permission. She put her mouth on him without consent. He sat there frozen because he didn’t know what else to do, and when it was over, he filed a harassment complaint because he understood that what had happened to him was wrong.
” I meet her eyes. “You dismissed his complaint. Now you’re asking him to marry the very woman who violated him. How is that protecting your son?”
“Tatiana made a mistake—”
“Tatiana knew what she was doing. She had no idea I existed. She’s a liar, and only a fool would believe her.” My words are meant to cut.
“You couldn’t begin to understand the pressure she’s under,” the queen says, but her voice has lost some of its certainty. “Louis knew what his future held if he wasn’t married by thirty-five. We gave him one additional year. He took the gamble, and unfortunately, he lost. This must be done.”
“Things can change.”
“They don’t and won’t. Believe me when I say, you are not an option, Miss Cross. You deserve more than being a paramour.”
I can’t focus on painting and this conversation at the same time. “This isn’t about anything other than an alliance.”
The queen’s jaw tightens, and I watch the way her fingers press harder against each other in her lap. “You’re walking on very thin ice, Miss Cross.”
“I’m aware.” I hold her gaze without flinching. “But someone needs to be honest with you instead of allowing you to sit in your echo chamber full of yes men. What Tatiana did was wrong. Dismissing Louis’s complaint was wrong. Forcing him to marry her when he’s in love with me is wrong.”
“Oh, Addison. You believe Louis is in love with you?” Now her eyes look sad. “Sweetheart, all of his relationships have gone like this.”
“Then why haven’t they worked out?”
“Because he only dates women who are forbidden. The ones who he can never have. It’s the allure, like a fetish. Especially Americans. I believe you’re in love with him. But I don’t believe he’s in love with you.”
Her words are meant to sting.
“Okay,” I say, not concerned. “That’s your opinion, one that I disagree with.”
The queen stares at me, and I can see she expected that to hurt.
She wanted to upset me, to make me question everything, to wonder if I’m another name on a list of women Louis has used to rebel against his parents.
But I’ve spent enough time with him to know the difference between performance and truth. What we have is real.
“You’re very confident,” she says.
“His Highness told me he always gets what he wants.”
Her eyes shift, and it makes me believe that’s true.
“He wants me, Your Majesty. I promise you that,” I say, cleaning my brushes to put them up.
I’m done pretending this is a normal session.
“He has spent his life surrounded by people who want something from him, and I’m the first person who doesn’t.
I’m not with him for the crown, not the title, not the lifestyle.
I didn’t know who he was when we first met. ”
“This sounds rehearsed.”
“It’s my truth.”
The afternoon light has slightly shifted, and I think the queen might realize she’s underestimated me.
“Let me be very clear about something,” she says, standing.
All the false sympathy in her voice is gone.
“You are not to see him again. That’s a direct order.
Soon you’ll begin the official portrait of Prince Louis and Princess Tatiana.
Their courtship will move forward. The ball is at the end of next week, and the country will know who his bride will be then.
You will do the job you were hired to do.
You will capture their connection. Their chemistry.
Their future as the leaders of Montclaire. ”
I keep my voice flat. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Your position here is a privilege, not a right, Miss Cross.” She doesn’t raise her voice, but the temperature in the room feels like it’s dropped ten degrees.
“You’re the first female portrait artist this palace has commissioned—ever.
That makes you visible. The last thing we need is a scandal—do you understand?
That will not help Louis; it will only hurt his reputation.
However, if my hand is forced, I will replace you.
There are dozens of artists who would take your place without causing half the complications you’ve created.
Artists who understand their role and don’t confuse professional access with personal entitlement. ”
“I’m not the one confusing the two,” I tell her.
“There was a time when I was exactly like you. A beautiful young woman who got swept up in something bigger than she could handle.” Her voice softens, but it’s not kind.
It’s condescending. “I’m offering you an exit, Addison.
Finish this commission, then go back to New York with your reputation intact.
I will make sure you get whatever you want with your art.
But you’ll need to make up an excuse and leave on your own. ”
She studies me, begging me with her eyes, nearly bribing me.
“No, thank you.” I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“I won’t enable your behavior. You’ll have to remove me from my position.” I hold her gaze. “And until then, you’re stuck with me, Your Majesty. Simply put, I’m not going anywhere.”
The queen’s jaw stays locked. I’m not the easy target she thought I was.
“We’re finished for today,” she finally says. “Pack your things.”
I clean my brushes, taking my time with each one. I refuse to rush, knowing she’s watching my every move. I wipe the excess paint from my palette and seal my tubes, stuffing everything into my bag. When I’m finished, I turn to face her and dip into a curtsy.
“Your Majesty. Thank you for your time.”
“Miss Cross.” She nods, and her expression gives nothing away. “Next week, when you start your next project of Louis and Tatiana, you will be professional. You will be gracious. You will do your job.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” I straighten from the curtsy. “I will not let you down.”
I don’t wait for her response. I turn and walk out of the room with my head held high, my footsteps steady against the marble floors. The hallway stretches ahead of me, and it feels like it triples in length.
The queen thinks she knows how this story ends.
She believes I’ll slink back to New York with my heart in pieces because she asked me to, and that her speech about forbidden women and fetishes planted enough doubt to make me question everything.
I’ve seen the women Louis dated, and I’ve read the articles about the handfuls of heartache he’d caused.
Maybe Louis wasn’t the problem. Maybe it was his parents all along.
I let out a deep sigh. Louis’s mother isn’t the only one making moves in this palace. Tea with the king is in a few days. If he’s the romantic one, then we’ll have plenty to talk about.