Chapter 6
Marion's footsteps echo behind me as I make my way to Mama's private audience chamber.
With every step closer, my nerves grow. I know that she wants me to have a ball for my birthday, but I'm dreading it.
Especially with how angry she is at me for leaving the feast the other night.
I know that I technically broke the rules and might have made a bad impression on our guests, but it's not as if I did it on purpose.
And I had a good reason for it, even if Mama isn't likely to think that.
The servant at the door bows to me then opens it and announces me. Which is never a good sign. It means that there are other people in the room.
I'm almost relieved when I step inside and discover that it's just Mama's private secretary and a couple of servants, rather than anyone who isn't aware of what I'm like.
Even so, I dip into a curtsy while Marion bows behind me.
"Your Majesty," I say.
"Have a seat, Evelyn," she says, waving to the table that's been set up for tea.
It's fast become a staple in Falhaven since our trade treaty with Shengda was signed nearly six years ago, and that's something I'm grateful for, because I do enjoy it, especially with pastries.
Sadly, there don't seem to be any of the latter delivered along with the tea tray. That's disappointing.
I move my skirts as I sit down and run my finger under the neckline of my dress. I don't remember it itching me this much last time I wore it, but maybe the collar has been attached differently this time.
Marion settles herself at a desk a few feet away and poises herself to write notes about today.
It's so different from when she comes down to the kitchens for meetings with me.
There, she sits along with everyone else, but here she's relegated to sitting away from us and not getting to enjoy any of the refreshments.
I'm not sure I like it very much, especially when I find her input to be helpful sometimes.
The only advantage is that her scratchy pen isn't going to be able to bother me as much from this distance.
Mama takes a seat opposite me and picks up the teapot to pour for us both. "We need to discuss your ball," she says.
"Is it really necessary to have one at all?"
Mama lets out a heavy sigh. "We're not having this conversation again, Evelyn. Your behaviour in recent months has necessitated it. You're going to host this ball, and you're going to entertain the suitors who come to it."
My stomach twists into knots, and not just because I'll have to socialise. There's only one suitor I have in mind for myself, and I suspect Mama will find Nate unsuitable even if there are no rules against it.
"Could it be a masquerade?" I ask, remembering Veronica's suggestion. I'm not sure why she thinks it's a good idea, but I trust my sister, so I'm going to ask.
Mama raises an eyebrow. "A masquerade?"
"They can be quite fun." I busy myself with picking up my teacup so that she doesn't see the lie on my face. Not that I think Mama knows what I look like when I lie. Or maybe she does. I don't know.
"If this means that you'll stop resisting the mere idea of a ball, then I don't see why not," she responds. "And you are going to take part."
"Yes, Mama," I respond.
"Good. Then we should start talking about the guest list," she says. "I've had Susan pull together some miniatures for you to look at." She gestures to her private secretary, who gets up and brings over a collection of sheets, placing them down beside me.
I look down at the top one to find the portrait of a woman with her name and age listed beneath it.
"When did we start looking at portraits to make a guest list?
" I ask Mama. Is this some part of the process I've just never been part of before?
I haven't put together many guest lists, so there's a chance I just don't know how it's done.
I move the first portrait to the side and look at the next one, a man with a very large feather in his hat.
Mama clears her throat. "These are the guests that I would like you to make sure that you talk to over the course of the ball. They all come from excellent families, and would be advantageous marriages."
I freeze. "You want me to marry one of these people?"
"It doesn't have to be one of these suitors," Mama responds. "But it is time that you seriously start to consider it."
"Why?" I blurt out. "Kathryn isn't married, and she's five years older than I am."
"And that is something I'm taking up with your sister," Mama responds. "We're not here to talk about Kathryn."
"But I don't even need to marry," I point out. "If it's the succession you're worried about, then I could just have a baby."
Mama sighs. "While that is true, there are a lot of other reasons for you to marry, Evelyn. Including the advantages it could bring to this family and the kingdom. Just look at your brother's marriage, that brought a treaty with Someil with it."
"I can't marry," I respond firmly.
Mama's expression becomes one that I can't read properly, but I assume is annoyance. "If this is about the baker's boy..."
"Nate is a chef in his own right," I counter.
"So it is about him."
I swallow hard, not entirely sure how to answer that when it is at least partly about Nate.
"You can have your dalliances wherever you want, Evelyn.
The gods know that your siblings do. But he is not the marriageable type.
You will entertain those that I put forward for that, and you will do it with a smile on your face.
" She taps the pile in front of me. "If not one of these guests, then perhaps someone else.
I've heard that Prince Francesco of Sovranetti is considering trying to find a wife. Perhaps I should invite him."
My eyes sting, but I blink away the tears that are threatening to fall. "I don't want to marry Prince Francesco. I don't know him."
"I've heard that he has an interest in food, you might be able to find common ground with him. Let's send an invitation to Sovranetti," Mama says, gesturing for her private secretary. "And make sure to mention that it's for Princess Evelyn's twenty-fifth birthday, and that she's yet unwed."
"May I be excused?" I ask, not really knowing what else to say.
"No, you may not," Mama responds. "We are going to discuss the rest of the arrangements, and you are going to tell me which of the suitors you're most interested in so that we can invite them early so you can get to know them."
"Why does it matter what I say?" I respond without thinking. "It's not like you're going to take my opinion into account anyway."
"That is not true, Evelyn. I am taking your opinion into account."
"But only if I agree to marry one of these people." I put my hand on top of the stack of portraits. Anger is swirling around within me, but it's closely intertwined with the need to cry, and I don't want to let that out while I'm with Mama. I doubt she's going to understand.
"Then you should tell me who you want to invite to the ball," she says.
I don't even know how to respond to that. It's clear that my input isn't truly necessary here, and I don't really know what to do with that. I wish Veronica were here to give me some ideas and maybe to take some of the attention away from me.
Mama starts talking about her plans for the ball, but I can't focus.
Thankfully, there's the strangely reassuring, and yet grating, scrape of Marion's pen as she makes notes about the conversation.
Maybe she'll be able to fill me in on things I need to know later, because the only thing I can focus on is that Mama wants me to get married.