13
I t turned out that throwing punch at the duchess’s daughter in front of an audience of debutantes was not something that could be easily overlooked. A letter arrived from the palace summoning me to the queen herself for disciplinary matters. My gut dropped to the floor.
“Don’t worry, Amarante,” Tori said. “I’m sure Her Majesty knows perfectly well what the duchess and her daughter are like.”
“She and Queen Cordelia are bosom friends,” I said. “You told us that yourself, remember?”
This did not seem to distress her. Throughout the course of breakfast, during which I barely stomached a blueberry, Tori encouraged me to “give that nasty Narcissa what’s coming for her”. Genevieve pulled me into a rib-crushing embrace as if I were being sent off to the gallows. Lord Strongfoot, after hearing about the matter, merely guffawed .
A carriage was called for me and I clutched the letter in my hand, crumpling and smoothing and crumpling the parchment until it felt like tissue. When I finally arrived at the south wing of the palace and showed the guards the crumpled letter, they led me to Lady Hortensia, whom I immediately recognized from her frilly gown. Her face was pinched in disapproval. I colored.
“Come along, Miss Flora,” she said.
I followed Lady Hortensia down the hall of the south wing. Giant portraits of old, dead politicians with white beards and finery hung along the wall to my left. They seemed to glare down at me as I passed. After a couple minutes of walking down the lusciously furnished hall, we entered an archway that led to a wide chamber. Arched windows let in cheery daylight, a cruel contrast to my bleak situation.
“Wait here,” Lady Hortensia said, gesturing to a small alcove before a pair of oak doors. “The queen will see you soon.”
I took a seat on a particularly lumpy couch as the woman left with a sniff. I gripped the crystal around my neck with a shaky hand, willing myself to calm.
The possible punishments that loomed before me were unlike anything I dared to imagine. Would I be whipped? Shamed and disowned? Publicly beheaded? My fingers went to my throat. A beheading was a very viable punishment for throwing punch at the duchess’s daughter.
My gaze wandered to the oak doors that led to the queen’s study. Voices could be heard. Narcissa and the duchess were inside, perhaps overdramatizing the situation to reap a harsher punishment. I closed my eyes in frustration, wishing I were Elowyn so I could disappear and reappear elsewhere .
The doors burst open and the Whittingtons walked out. Narcissa was red in the face from fuming. Her Grace barely spared me a glance.
“The queen will see you now, Miss Flora,” Duchess Wilhelmina said icily.
I swallowed and stood, careful to distance myself from Narcissa, who was glaring daggers at me.
“Prepare for the worst, city girl,” she hissed, her slender shoulders shaking as I entered.
Queen Cordelia’s study consisted of a sprawling desk and shelves of books that spanned the length of two walls. Before us was a stained-glass window depicting a mermaid at the shores of an aquamarine sea, tinting the carpeted floor with shards of multi-colored light. The queen herself sat behind the desk.
She looked up. For a moment, a scarlet aura rippled around her. It disappeared when I blinked.
I dipped into a low curtsy. “Your Majesty,” I said, my voice hopelessly feeble.
“I suppose you know what you’re here for, Miss Amarante?” the queen said with a firm, though not unkind, voice.
Shame colored my face. With Narcissa’s glare burning into my cheek, I was sure I looked like one of Rowena’s ripe heirloom tomatoes. “Yes, Your Majesty,” I murmured.
“I am sure as a young lady of good upbringing,” Queen Cordelia said, pressing her fingers together, “you are aware that splashing drinks on another debutante is a great offense.”
It was difficult to meet her eye. If I did, she’d know I felt no remorse. “Yes, Your Majesty,” I said.
“Well then. An apology is in order,” the queen said.
I bowed my head. “I apologize.”
“Not to me, child. To Narcissa. ”
Duchess Wilhelmina scoffed. “Your Majesty, Miss Flora owes more than an apology. Perhaps an explanation for why she decided to soil my daughter’s gown with the same punch Narcissa so kindly offered her before?”
“Well, I-I...” I stuttered.
“I was only trying to be friendly,” Narcissa said, sniveling. I looked up, shocked at her drastic change of demeanor. The venom in her words before was gone. Now, she was all teary innocence.
“The punch was laced with a laxative, Your Majesty,” I said, finding my voice. “Tori, Miss Victoria Strongfoot, could attest to that.”
Her Majesty’s brows raised ever so slightly. She turned to Narcissa. “Is that true?”
Narcissa’s snivels crescendoed into a sob. “I offer you an olive branch and in turn you have struck me with it and tainted my name with nonsensical slander,” Narcissa wailed. I stepped back, thoroughly appalled at her theatrics. If only she had used half that effort during the hunting party, I would’ve truly believed she wanted to be friends.
“Miss Flora, have you no decency?” Duchess Wilhelmina scolded, wrapping an arm around her daughter who was dabbing her nose with a lace handkerchief. “Your Majesty, I demand you to punish this young lady at once. I have never seen such an ill-mannered, nefarious girl in my life.”
Queen Cordelia stared for a minute, not quite at me and not quite at the duchess or Narcissa. She looked more tired than thoughtful, the dark circles beneath her brown eyes deeper than they were before.
When she finally spoke, Narcissa’s wails had quieted into whimpers. “You’re distressed, Narcissa,” Queen Cordelia said. “Wilhelmina, take her to rest, will you? ”
A flash of irritation passed through the duchess’s face, but disappeared as quickly as it came. “Your Majesty, I really—”
“Will you?” the queen repeated.
Duchess Wilhelmina curtsied deeply, hiding her expression. “Indeed.”
She and Narcissa swept out of the room without another word, though their hostility was tangible when they slammed the door.
The queen folded her hands before her.
I curtsied again. “Your Majesty—”
“Rise, child. I have enough formalities to last me a lifetime.”
I rose, surprised to hear that her voice was not brimming with anger. She motioned for me to sit in the chair across her. I sank into the velvet cushion.
“We have rules on how young ladies should act during the Season,” the queen said. “Your behavior during the hunting party will be frowned upon.”
I swallowed. “Your Majesty, I really didn’t mean—”
“Next time you will do well to handle your affairs in a more private and ladylike way. Is that understood?”
My mouth gaped open. “P-pardon?”
Queen Cordelia sighed. She offered me a small smile, her almond eyes glimmering. “Growing up in a palace has taught me many things, both about myself and other people,” she said. “But there is one thing I always keep in mind. Quarrels, no matter how badly you want to win them, are not worth their consequences. I will speak with Wilhelmina myself after this, so rest easy.”
I nodded slowly, though not quite comprehending what she meant. “What about my punishment?” I asked.
“Ah, that,” the queen said, leaning back in her chair. “You will dust the library this week, if you have no objections.”
I shook my head, hardly knowing whether to be more surprised at the lax punishment or that the queen asked if I objected to said punishment.
“Good. And remember to pay extra attention to the east end, will you?” she said with a mysterious smile. “I’ll have someone show you the way.”
I nodded, speechless.
“Very well, you are dismissed,” Queen Cordelia said.
I left the study with a servant who was to show me to the library. I followed her down the hall in a daze, hardly believing my luck. I had escaped a conference with the queen unscathed. To say I was relieved was an understatement—I was elated. Narcissa couldn’t convince the queen to behead me after all.
When we reached the library, which wasn’t too far from the queen’s study, the servant thrust a duster in my hand and left, leaving me to wander the shelves alone with a ridiculous smile on my face. Luckily, there was no one there to see me, besides an old balding gentleman I assumed to be the librarian perched behind a tall desk. The nameplate in front of him identified him as Mr. Charles Northberry. He was fast asleep and snoring up a storm.
The library was a sprawling space with a domed ceiling, the walls lined with countless volumes of every size. Tall, narrow windows let in streams of daylight, illuminating the tops of the bookshelves. I squinted. There was hardly a speck of dust in the air, much less on the furniture.
I walked through the immaculate shelves to the east end, wondering why Queen Cordelia told me to pay extra attention there. Maybe the east end was neglected. Less than a half minute’s walk led me to an opening. A comfortable corner with plush armchairs was situated next to a window seat surrounded by more books. It was not significantly dustier than the rest of the library, but there was company.
Prince Ash reclined on an armchair, his feet thrown over an ottoman. His hair, instead of neatly combed, was in a state of disarray. I stepped back, not expecting to see anyone—much less him—at the library.
The movement must’ve caught his attention. “Who’s there?”
“Housekeeping,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t put down the book that obscured me from his vision.
Brown eyes emerged from behind the cover. “Ah. There you are.”
“Your Highness,” I said with a quick curtsy. “Er...were you expecting me?”
Prince Ash pulled himself up into a proper sitting position. “Yes, indeed.”
“Oh,” I said. I thought he really believed me to be a servant until he broke into a smile.
“Miss Amarante,” he said, standing and giving me a smart bow. “You didn’t think I’ve forgotten your face already, did you? What brings you here this fine morning?”
“I’m carrying out a punishment of sorts,” I murmured.
He raised his eyebrows. “Is it for...? ”
My cheeks burned. I supposed throwing punch at someone at a public party wouldn’t go unnoticed. Shortly after the episode, I begged Tori to call a coach to take us back early. I didn’t bother counting the people who saw the whole thing.
“Yes,” I said, raising my chin and daring him to comment further. “I’m here at the queen’s orders. She told me to clean the east end.”
A peculiar look crossed Prince Ash’s face. “Did she?”
I nodded, running my duster along the shelf next to me. It was spotless.
“Are you here to take care of the mice?” he asked.
I froze. “Mice?”
“That’s right. But you won’t have any luck. We’ve tried everything,” the prince said with a shrug. “I don’t mind them. They’re quite cute.”
I looked at him in disbelief.
“I’m joking,” Prince Ash said, chuckling at my expression. He swung his legs down from the ottoman. “Come. You can help me instead.”
I approached his corner, which was rather cluttered. A jacket was flung over the armchair and sheets of parchment covered in indiscernible scrawl littered the low table.
“What were you doing here?” I asked, tiptoeing through the paper.
“Filling up time, as usual,” Prince Ash said, pulling on the jacket. “I was researching.”
“Not debutantes, I hope?” I said, referencing our first conversation at the Debutante Ball.
“Not this time, though I’ve crossed many off the list since,” he said, laughing. “I’m afraid my poor brother is going to be a bachelor for a long time. ”
A book lay face down on the seat. I picked it up. “History of Witches?” I said, shocked to see the title.
Prince Ash took it from me. “Just some light reading,” he said, handing me a pile of books. “These go on the bottom shelf.”
“What are you reading about witches for?” I said as I knelt. My voice wavered a bit, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“If you must know,” he said, “I’m trying to prove something.”
“Prove what?”
“That I’m competent. To my father, anyway,” Prince Ash said with a shrug. “Like I said, he doesn’t let me help with kingdom affairs. I’m thinking if I show him I can solve this mystery—”
“What mystery?” I asked. I knew I was being rude, but I couldn’t help it.
“Ah, apologies. I’m rambling like an idiot,” he said. “You’re familiar with Navierre’s Trial, during my grandfather’s time?”
His grandfather. King Humphrey. The king who began the Non-Magic Age and banned witches from Olderea after Navierre, a witch in the royal court, was found guilty of attempted regicide and beginning a witch rebellion.
My throat went dry. I had nearly forgotten Prince Ash was his direct descendant. My opinion of King Humphrey had certainly changed since discovering the circumstances of my birth.
“Yes,” I said. “What of it?”
“Well, it’s a bit of a family secret,” Prince Ash said slowly, “but there hasn’t been any hard evidence that Navierre committed the crimes he was charged with.”
I stared, stunned .
“I know. It sounds bad, but there has to be evidence somewhere,” the prince said quickly. “There are pages missing from my grandfather’s journal. Someone probably wanted to hide Navierre’s crimes. I hope to find them eventually.”
“You’re saying the Non-Magic Age happened on baseless accusation?” I said, aghast. My nannies were right. History about witches was skewed beyond belief.
“Not so loud,” Prince Ash said, darting his eyes around. “It wasn’t completely baseless. But that isn’t the point. If I find that evidence, I’ll finally win my father over.”
“I suppose,” I said.
I wanted to ask him why he was so sure that there was evidence, that perhaps it was King Humphrey who wanted to hide his crimes. But I held my tongue lest I offended him, or accidentally revealed myself. After all, he did just tell me a royal secret, though I hardly knew why he trusted me to keep it. I continued to shelve the books until he spoke again.
“Your knee,” Prince Ash said almost hesitantly. He clearly didn’t expect my curt tone or my silence. “Is it still hurting?”
I paused. Maybe he believed I thought him silly for wanting to win his father’s confidence. “It’s doing fine,” I said, feeling slightly guilty. “Thank you, Your Highness. And I wish you the best of luck with your research.”
I saw him glance at me from the corner of my eye. “You can call me Ash, you know. I have enough formalities to—”
“To last you a lifetime.”
He raised his brows.
“You and your mother are very similar,” I said.
He laughed. “I’m afraid we are. ”
“And what about your father?” I instantly regretted the words as they came out of my mouth. He stopped smiling and bent down to busy himself with gathering more parchment. I wanted to slap myself. He must’ve thought I was trying to weasel out information about his illegitimate birth.
“He spends more time with Bennett. My brother is the crown prince, after all,” he said. There was hardly any emotion in his voice as he said this.
I thought back to the countless nights I had to spend alone when Lydia began etiquette lessons with Genevieve. I was only eleven at the time and I was forbidden to join lest I be a pest. As I got older, I started running from them instead.
We shelved the books in silence for several minutes. Somewhere along the way, the tension dissolved into a companionable silence as the sun climbed up the sky. When I tucked the last book into the shelf, I broke the silence.
“Is that all?” I asked, standing up.
“Seems like it.” Prince Ash said.
“I should get going, then.”
He nodded. I was halfway down the aisle of shelves before he spoke again. “Amarante? Make sure to come back next week. I have a feeling the east end will be particularly dirty by then.”
I caught a glimpse of his smile between the shelves before he disappeared.
He called me Amarante.