Page 21 of Untouched Queen by Royal Command

CHAPTER FOUR

ITWASATRAP. Even as Augustus stood at the door to Sera’s quarters at half eight the following evening and pulled on the bell to signal his presence, he knew he should have stayed away or at the very least had her brought to his office earlier in the day. He wanted to talk about this list of potential brides she and Moriana had cooked up between them. The first three on the list would be presented to him at the Winter Solstice ball, Moriana had said. Sera would not be present.

What good was a matchmaker if she wasn’t even going to be present?

The door in front of him opened, and this time the menace from the High Reaches stood ready to serve him. He’d told her he was coming. He’d given her a time frame and ample opportunity to get ready for him. Nothing was going to happen except conversation. Moriana had navigated that blasted courtesan’s carpet wheel successfully enough, and there was even a training manual to go with it. He’d browsed through it during his lunch break.

He was getting more used to the physical effect Sera of the High Reaches seemed to have on him. Eyes soft and inviting, lips curved in welcome. Her over-tunic a flowing drape of gossamer moss-coloured silk, then underneath a plum-coloured bodice and straight skirt that finished an inch or so below the tunic. Her hair had been pulled back into a high ponytail yet still reached her waist. Delicate silver fans with tassels fell from her ears and swung gently as she moved. Matching tassels fell from the place where she’d gathered her hair. Her make-up was subtle rather than overwhelming.

She was breathtaking.

Wordlessly, she invited him to enter and he did.

‘May I take your jacket?’ she asked. He thought Why not? and let her ease it from his shoulders and hang it on a wooden clothes dummy in the alcove beside the door. She closed the door behind him and studied his face intently. ‘I haven’t curtseyed,’ she said.

And for that he was grateful. Every time she did she fed a demon that demanded he take advantage of her willingness to grant him anything he wanted. ‘How are your ribs?’

‘Perfectly fine, thank you.’

There was a new table in the round room. A small round table with room enough for three people to sit around comfortably or four people at a squeeze. There was a new sofa as well, although the round one and the cursed floor tapestry still took pride of place. This new sofa had been placed against a wall. A stack of reading books sat next to it and two wing-back leather library chairs had been positioned to either side. The carpet in between looked thick and plush and was a deep and solid red. She saw him looking at the set-up and extended a graceful arm in its direction.

‘I took the liberty of setting up another seating area. Your sister thought it might encourage more visitors, or, at the very least, make them less suspicious once they got here.’

His sister was a genius when it came to putting people at ease.

‘You must miss her,’ Sera said next.

‘We all do.’ He’d once thought Moriana neurotic and highly strung. He’d thought his palace would run just as smoothly without her incessant attention to detail. It hadn’t. A fact which had surprised him and approximately no one else in the palace. ‘My sister used to manage the monarchy’s social obligations. There can be two or sometimes even three social functions a day here. And then there are the balls and state dinners. She left comprehensive instructions for every event, but even so I miss her judgement when it comes to who to seat where and what alliances are to be encouraged. It’s all in her head, and in mine, and neither of us have time to download a lifetime’s worth of observations into someone else’s brain. Especially when that someone is just as likely to go to the press with tasty gossip at the first opportunity.’ He was tired and irritable and what was it about this woman that had him spilling confidences like an overwrought teenager?

Moving on.

Moriana had sat in the strategy section yesterday morning, she’d told him. It had worked for her. It would work for him. He strode to the central sofa and sat in the area with the people and the table and the maps. Strategy session.

Sera smiled at him, really smiled, as if he’d made her happy, and—oh, crap.

Could he order her not to smile at him like that?

‘Would you like water, wine, coffee or tea?’ she asked.

‘None of it. Go get the list of potential wives you and my sister cooked up between you and then take a seat. I have some amendments to make.’ He hoped he sounded rigidly officious rather than downright surly but he didn’t like his chances. Neither option was a good example of confident, competent leadership.

‘I’ll get my computer,’ she said, and when she came back she sat beside him easy as you please and earnest in her role as matchmaker. For his part, he found himself moving closer, well and truly enmeshed by her delicate perfume and perfect profile and the little fan earrings that brushed the skin of her neck.

All of it was captivating and it took all the willpower he had to turn his attention to the database full of potential brides. A database full of not just names but lineages, occupations, hobbies and… ‘Is that a character assessment column?’

‘Subjective, of course, and predominantly based on their public personas. They may be quite different underneath. We can adjust it as we go. It would be helpful if you could give me some indication as to what you admire most in a woman,’ she said. ‘Do you want someone with a calm disposition or are you after more fire than that? Someone fun-loving and easy-going or someone more highly strung and demanding? A pliable companion or someone you might on occasion have to work to placate?’

‘Meekness bores me. Theatrics annoy me. And stupidity is an unpardonable sin.’

Sera’s fingers flew across the keyboard and several names disappeared. ‘Any hair, eye or skin colour preferences?’

‘None.’ He hadn’t known he had a preference for grey eyes, raven-dark hair and skin the colour of pale rose petals until a few days ago. Hopefully his current obsession would be short-lived.

‘Will you entertain marriage to a woman whose religion is different to yours?’ she asked.

‘No. She would have to convert.’ The demands of the Crown overrode all else in that regard.

More names disappeared from the list.

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