Chapter 43
In the Queen’s Court
Three days later, Elizabeth prepared to return to Rhodea.
She hadn’t seen Caspian at all, and he had been absent at dinner.
Once or twice, she thought she’d caught a flash of dark hair, or a glimpse of his tunic at the end of a hall, but every time she got closer, he would disappear, as if into thin air.
She was a fool. Listening for his footsteps in the hallway and waiting for him to pepper her with sweet nothings to fix the tumultuous feelings in her heart.
Of course, he hadn’t sought her out. She’d wounded his pride as surely as he’d wounded hers.
She was a fool for believing he wouldn’t be offended by the depth to which she was afraid to love him.
When Fiza came to her chambers, she wordlessly pointed to the bag she had already packed for their trip. She followed the demon in silence as Fiza hauled her luggage to the carriage.
Despite being angry with her, Caspian upheld his word. The servants that she had requested were standing there waiting for her.
Lial, Maud, and Fiza stood by the carriage, solemn-faced. Lial would be her footman and guard on the journey, and Fiza, her maid. Maud, whose hair was twisted up and stuffed into a cap, saw Elizabeth approaching and screwed up her face, closing her eyes tightly.
In a puff of black smoke, a different person stood in Maud’s place. Instead of Maud’s mousy appearance, she had grown taller and developed thicker brows and shorter hair. She could easily pass for Lial’s brother now.
In her early days within the castle, Elizabeth would have been flabbergasted to watch a demon shapeshift into a completely different person. Now, all she offered was a cool smile in reaction to Maud changing her skin as easily as she changed dresses.
In the carriage, Fiza was a solid and unwavering presence beside her, while Elizabeth hardly spoke during the entire journey. She knew this trip would not go well, but she had no choice. As a citizen of Rhodea, she could not ignore a direct summons from her monarch.
Elizabeth had a sinking feeling she was supposed to be the planned entertainment.
The forests and mountains of Arboras thinned and gradually gave way to rolling hills.
Her layers proved far too much for the balmy, southern weather, and she removed her cloak.
They passed through leagues of neatly tilled vineyards and fields dotted with wildflowers. The familiar landscape should have felt like coming home, but instead it felt foreign, as if she no longer belonged to this softer, warmer world.
After a few days of travel, the roads gradually became more populated, and they entered the silver gates of the Calyx.
The sun shone, and the commoners wore pretty gowns of peach, lilac, and cream. There were baskets of flowers hanging on every street corner, and the atmosphere was merry and bright.
Their carriage rolled past the bistro and restaurant district, with white tables and chairs artfully arranged around patios, offering views of ships out at sea. This had been her favourite place in the city once.
Elizabeth spared no expense on the inn they stayed at, knowing at court, appearances were all that mattered.
She cringed inwardly at the loss of funds and insisted on treating their party to dinner at the attached restaurant, making sure to seat their party by the window, visible to any nosy passersby.
The following afternoon arrived too soon, and Fiza helped her get ready for the court dinner.
The demon’s face was set with determination while she did Elizabeth’s hair and face paint with expert precision.
When she was done, Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror and thanked Fiza profusely.
She looked radiant. Modest, elegant, and every inch a high-born lady.
“Give them hell, Lady,” Fiza murmured softly, fixing an errant lock of hair.
Elizabeth had decided to forgo the soft palette that was in fashion in Rhodea and opt for a gown of dark silk.
In Caspian’s home, dressing in swaths of endless black had washed her out and erased her identity as a Lady of Rhodea.
Now, she wanted to remind every woman at court exactly who she was and where she had been.
To take their shame and ridicule at having left and wear it proudly on her chest.
The gown she had chosen was made of midnight blue satin, with a fitted bodice and full skirts.
Fine silver embroidery embellished the neckline and waist of the bodice, and the sleeves were billowy and made of translucent fabric.
She paired it with the ice diamonds Caspian had bought her, thinking that at the very least, his gift might stop the queen from ridiculing her.
Elizabeth entered the palace with her head held high. She was formally announced, and as she entered the great hall, she curtseyed deeply to the queen seated at the head of the table.
“Rise,” said Queen Rowena with a smirk on her lips.
She did and strode to the only remaining chair at the table. She was seated far from the queen, which confirmed her family had fallen from her favour. Her mother’s absence doubled her belief she’d been invited purely for entertainment.
Charlotte was in attendance, of course, and sat three seats to the right of the queen.
Elizabeth sat straight-backed with impeccable posture. Tonight, she could remain calm and collected no matter what was thrown her way. She glanced at Charlotte, and they exchanged a look.
Conversations drifted around the table as the queen greeted each person and made inquiries about their family and their estates.
“And Lady Ashcroft, if we are still calling you that. What tales they have told me of you. Yet here you are before me, healthy and whole.”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“And your address was difficult to track down. A post office, no less, not even a physical house.” Queen Rowena raised a brow and smirked, amused to share this information with the rest of their party.
“One can never be too careful in a different kingdom. If I had known to expect correspondence from the palace, I would have informed your scribe on how to reach me,” Elizabeth said coolly.
“Yes, yes. But what have you been doing?”
“My days are entirely my own. In the mornings, I go horseback riding for exercise, and in the evenings, I practice my needlepoint or read. The peace and quiet have done me well, I think.”
“And where are you staying?”
“Arboras, Your Majesty. Have you ever travelled there?” she asked, returning the volley.
“Not for some time, and only to Volantia. The capital city was quite lovely; however, it was built high up in the mountains. I met with King Pierre at his palace, which was smaller than this one.” The queen sniffed.
A shared look of superiority was exchanged with the gathered ladies.
“With far too many stairs, but they built it that way for the view.”
Several of the girls looked at the queen with rapt expressions. Lady Sophie and Lady Katherine both leaned forward, appearing to hold on to her every word.
“They say the architect tried to build the palace tall enough to reach the house of the gods,” the queen continued.
“Which, of course, is impossible. When you look out from the great hall of the Arborian palace, the view is of the mountains and the sea. It’s quite pretty, actually, if you like barren rock, high turrets, and no gardens.
It’s not all for show, though. They say that wrongdoers are flung off the cliffs to splatter on the rocks a hundred leagues below.
” The queen raised a brow, as if it were a mildly amusing tidbit. “Were you in Volantia?”
“I visited there, Your Majesty, but I mostly spent time in Veridas and some of the smaller port cities and villages. Veridas is beautiful, but very different from here."
“So, you have lived as a commoner, then? And by yourself no less?"
Elizabeth speared a piece of carrot, deliberately chewed, and swallowed before answering.
“Yes, unconventional as it is, I live by myself. I am hopeful that my fortune will grow, and I will have my own household to run someday. Unless, of course, my parents have accepted my refusal of Duke Howard and have not disowned me from my fortune.”
“You seem quite nonchalant about the loss of fortune and name.”
She forced a smile to her lips. “I am not dead yet, Your Majesty.”
“You are pert.” The queen smirked. “But there is no man that you have run off with?”
“No. I decided I would rather be alone than marry someone I despise just to be married.”
“Your reputation has suffered, however,” scoffed Lady Lorine.
“I left,” corrected Elizabeth. “I have no reputation. Ill or otherwise, Lady Lorine.”
“They say you’re not a woman of virtue anymore … and you have run off with a man who is not your betrothed,” Lady Patricia supplied with a sly grin.
“If you would like to wed Duke Howard, by all means, do. He beats his servants and leers at women who are half his age,” Elizabeth said sharply. “You would be a wealthy woman. I wish you joy.”
The queen and court ladies surveyed her and Lady Patricia with cool amusement.
“They say you are no longer fit to be, well, anyone’s wife,” Lady Patricia sneered. “That, surely, if you have not taken ill and died, you have whored your way around the country to make your fortune.”
Elizabeth smiled tersely. “Well. You’ve certainly hit the crux of the issue.”
Lady Patricia wrinkled her brow in confusion.