Page 89 of The Mad King and the False Queen

“Hmm,” he mused. “I’m sure it’s easy.”

She saw Martine, Pierre, and Claude’s large guard standing a few feet away. Nearby, she also caught Sabien’s eyes again. He was clapping his hands together, so slow that there was no sound. She forced herself to ignore him as she and Claude came to a stop at the front of the room.

There was already a line to greet the new couple like Annette had warned. Martine handed Dagmara her silk gloves that Urszula had prepared. She knew Claude was curious, but she wasn’t going to tell him her reasoning. She knew she was capable of poisoning someone through touch, and she wouldn’t risk one of the Ilusaurian nobles taking her hand and ending her life.

The first few guests said hello politely, introducing themselves and going on their way. She heard many questions and many condolences to her family.

One woman approached, giving a glamorous introduction, and saying she was from some village in the south, before asking Dagmara, “So how do you benefit Ilusauri other than birthing the next heir?”

Dagmara’s face turned pale. She hardly knew how to answer that question, let alone her mind immediately shifted to her conceiving kids with Claude.

“Princess Magdalena brings her entire kingdom,” Claude responded for her, his tone calm. “We are currently discussing all the benefits to this alliance, and there is no shortage from Azurem.”

“Hmm,” the woman replied, displeased.

Claude’s voice dropped. “You will not speak negatively about Princess Magdalena in my presence again.” His eyes glimmered silver in the light.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the woman said, and then disappeared.

Dagmara nearly gasped. Had Claude compelled her?

The next duo that stepped forward glanced at Claude with sheer horror before bowing at Dagmara and scampering off.

Forced to remain silent, Dagmara couldn’t help but glance Claude’s way each time a couple approached, but she didn’t see the silver in his chocolate eyes again. She must have imagined it.

The line felt never-ending, and Dagmara started to lose energy. It was like her life had been sucked out of her, and she knew she had only been standing for ten minutes. Her heart pounded against her chest, threatening to do more damage. She needed to sit, but she couldn’t make a scene.

Don’t ask for a chair. Her thoughts were at war with herself. She couldn’t seem weak.

Claude put his hand out, stopping the next visitors before he turned to Dagmara. His voice was barely audible. “You haven’t spoken to the last three groups. Don’t let their comments get to you. This is all for show, remember?”

The comments irked her, but that wasn’t the problem. It would only get worse from here.

“May I sit?” she blurted out. “My shoes are killing me.”

Claude’s face twisted. “Yes…” he said. Then he snapped at his large guard behind him. Within moments, a velvet chair had arrived and was placed directly behind her.

She gratefully took a seat, immediately feeling the pressure release from her entire body. Her nausea began to subside, and before long, her heart would return to normal.

Then she felt a finger underneath her chin. Claude tilted her head so that she looked up at him, his fingertips gently caressing her neck.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. She didn’t know if he was touching her this way for show or not.

Then he stood beside her, placing one hand behind his back and the other on the back of the chair. It looked like they were settling in for a painting.

A few more people introduced themselves, until one struck Dagmara by surprise.

She saw him approach, and there was no doubt he was Celesta. Unless he was an Ilusaurian citizen now…but his attire wasn’t similar to those around him. Tassels laid against his chest, and his shoulder pads tilted into spikes. The red color of his clothing was too vibrant for the dyes on this side of the continent.

Ilusauri invaded Celestaire. What was a representative from Celestaire doing here?

The approaching man stepped before them, bowing. His jet black hair was slicked back into a thick bun, shiny underneath the light from the chandeliers. As he straightened, he revealed a young face, but it was worn from experience. He had to be a decade older than Claude.

Then he spoke, a smile on his face as he addressed the king and princess, and Dagmara realized in horror that she didn’t know a single word of Celesta. Well, nothing more than hello, goodbye, and thank you.

But Magda was fluent.

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