Page 47 of Kingdom of Crowns and Daggers

I’m surprised at her words, and it must show on my face because she gives me a rueful smile and steps back.

“My job is to keep you presentable and alive, Princess,” she explains, gesturing towards the dress that hugs me like a second skin. “The ladies of court can be vicious. This way, they might think twice before attempting to sink their teeth into you.”

Her words are a warning as well as an explanation, and it’s one I’m going to heed. Meeting her gaze, I keep my own expression solemn and genuine as I speak. “Thank you, Madame Kane.”

Surprise flashes in her eyes, and it makes me wonder how many entitled women she’s worked with don’t bother to thank her and the ladies-in-waiting for their work.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, she starts gesturing towards the door, pushing on my shoulders to get me moving.

“Come now, you’re going to be late.”

Chapter

Twenty-Six

ALYX

Downing the rest of my sparkling wine, I can’t help but wish it were something stronger. I scowl at the bottom of the empty glass when it doesn’t magically refill, huffing a frustrated sigh.

When I agreed to act as Joha’s queen, hiding behind a pillar from courtiers was not how I imagined it. The one I am currently seeking shelter behind is only just wide enough to hide me, my voluminous skirts nearly giving me away, and I know that it’s only a matter of time before I’m found.

Joha always refused a wife before now, and with my backstory bringing me from another land, I’m new and shiny, something everyone wants a piece of. Some are merely curious, while others are downright scavengers, trying to pick me apart for information about the king and our relationship.

The ballroom is large and grand, much like the rest of the palace. At the far end of the hall is a row of thrones, the largest of which is Joha’s. Beside his is a slightly smaller throne, but it’s no less grand, carved with crowns and roses, designed for his queen. Smaller thrones sit on either side of those. Men and women dressed in their finest court clothes fill the space, some dancing to the light music being played by a string quartet in the corner. However, most of the courtiers are doing what they do best—gossiping.

Standing in groups of three or four and clutching their wine glasses, they speak in low voices as they trade stories before moving onto other groups, and so the cycle starts again.

When I arrived, my ladies-in-waiting directed me through the crowd to the back of the hall where all the thrones were empty. Any thoughts that I may have had about taking a seat and watching from afar were quickly wiped away. There seemed to be a near constant line of people who wanted to speak with me. When I did have a moment of peace, my ladies-in-waiting were faffing around with my dress or brushing stray hair back from my face. All of the touching was becoming a little too much, so the moment I could, I snuck away.

Hence why I’m currently hiding behind a pillar.

Peering around the pillar, I spot Queen Mother sitting in one of the thrones, talking to several courtiers. I’m not sure when she arrived, but it’s clear she’s leading the court. My blood boils as I note which throne she’s sitting in—the one for the queen. It’s a challenge if ever I’ve seen one. She’s testing me to see if I’ll stand up to her or if I’ll bend to her will. Madame Kane was right. Court is just as vicious as battle. We just use words instead of blades.

Challenge accepted.

Taking a deep breath, I brush down my skirts and force my face into a bright smile, then I slowly integrate myself into the crowd as though I was never gone. Ridding myself of my empty glass to a passing server, I smile and acknowledge those who notice me or call out as I pass. It doesn’t take long for my ladies-in-waiting to reappear at my sides, looking relieved that they didn’t lose me completely.

Locking my gaze on my target, I ensure my steps are smooth and graceful rather than the prowl of a predator, which is my usual walk.

“Queen Mother,” I greet with a sweet smile, dipping my head slightly in greeting—I refuse to bow to this woman. “I believe you’re in my seat.”

Someone gasps quietly behind me, but I don’t waver in my stance. From what I’ve gathered, no one messes with Queen Mother, and here I am, ruffling feathers on my first day.

I’m walking a fine line between oblivious, airhead princess and outright challenging her. If I want to keep this façade going, then I have to convince the watching courtiers that it’s the former. With my smile still firmly fixed in place, I shrug my shoulders lightly as though this is a classic mistake and I’m gently reminding Queen Mother. Really, I’m putting her in her place, and from her narrow-eyed look, she knows it. The glare only lasts a matter of moments and is quickly replaced.

“Oh, my dear.” Pressing her hand to her bosom, she slowly gets to her feet, her smile apologetic. “I do apologise. I’m so used to sitting here from when my husband was alive and I was queen.”

Her excuse is about as believable as a crocodile in a dress masquerading as a woman, but the small gathering of courtiers around us coos and nods their heads as though it explains everything. Their disappointment hangs in the air, though, as they watch the two of us with predatory eyes, looking for any sign of drama they can share amongst themselves.

I clutch my hands together in front of me, tilting my head to one side. “It must have been difficult losing him and your title at the same time.” Placing myself in the now vacant throne, I smooth down my skirts and reach over to squeeze her hand as she sits on the smaller throne to my left. “Even so, don’t worry. I always get confused too.”

“You’re too kind.” With acting skills that would rival that of the professionals in the royal theatre, she smiles in return, hiding her obvious disdain for me.

She returns to talking to the lady she’d been in discussion with before I forced her from the throne, and I’m saved from having to say anything more as my ladies-in-waiting bring over several of their friends to meet me. Everyone comments on my dress and how beautiful I look, and discussion mostly turns to who I know in the city—no one other than the king—and the weather, which is unseasonably warm for the time of year. The conversations repeat as one lord or lady is replaced with another, and I have to pinch myself discreetly to stay awake.

Queen Mother and I mostly ignore each other as courtiers come up to speak to us, and I’m starting to regret challenging her because now I’m stuck here. Boredom is driving me crazy, and I start playing a little game with myself on how many different ways I could escape the ballroom when I feel cool fingers on top of mine.

Glancing up, I see Queen Mother is the one whose hand is on mine, her smile polite but her eyes assessing. The courtiers around us seem to realise that we need some space and take a step back, giving us the pretence of privacy.

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