Page 41 of A War of Crowns

But whatever doubt plagued her didn’t seem to affect Oracle Tsukiko, given how the Kunishi woman didn’t hesitate for a single moment before replying,He won’t.

Chapter eleven

Seraphina

“Your Majesty, what an honor it is to have received your invitation for a private audience,” Ambassador Giasone Ezzo of Drakmor purred amid his low bow. “At last.”

There was something decidedly oily about the Drakmori ambassador Seraphina had never cared for. Something that made her skin crawl and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, especially when his dark eyes clawed across her body as they were doing right at that moment.

As if the man was intent on cataloging her every detail.

“But I see the Baron of Crestley is not in attendance,” Lord Ezzo observed as he made a show of looking about her receiving chamber.

Aside from herself and the ambassador, only Duke Percival and Duchess Edith had warranted an invitation…along with her special guests, who had yet to arrive. But her godparents already stood close at hand, ready to play the part of chaperone and emotional support alike.

At mention of Lord Tiberius, though, Seraphina could feel the sudden dark weight of Duke Percival’s frown threatening to smother them all. The rumors circulating about her and the baron bothered her godfather to no end.

Seraphina pasted on a smile. “No, the baron will not be joining us today.”

“What a shame. I’ve always found him to have a sharp tongue and a charming wit.” Lord Ezzo sighed, though there was a sly curve to the man’s smile she immediately detested.

She was no fool. She knew exactly what the rest of the world thought about her friendship with Lord Tiberius—in part because Duke Percival would never let her forget it.

All of Avirel thought the mercer’s son-made-baron to be her lover. That they were secretly wed. That she had broken her betrothal with King Edmund for the sake of her childhood friend.

She had even heard that in Drakmor, a song was composed about the whole sordid affair—the story of the lustful queen, her handsome peacock, and the king made a fool by them both.

As the rumors went, the song had been rather popular, in fact, until King Edmund had ordered tongues be slit as a punishment simply for singing it.

If only the world realized the truth—that the closest to intimacy she had ever come with Tiberius was a misguided kiss on the cheek she had gifted him when they were both fifteen—she was certainthey would pity her rather than paint her a harlot. It was a kiss he had been mortified to receive and had promptly rejected, after all.

Even now, half a lifetime later, that memory haunted her still.

“I would rather spend the evening with no one other than you, my lord, naturally,” Seraphina eventually replied to the ambassador. Her own tone dripped with all the honey she could muster. “For it is such an honor to receive the representative of Elmoria’s premiere ally…at last.”

With a smile pinned on her lips, she extended a hand to the man in an unspoken invitation. After only a single beat of pause, he stepped forward to offer his arm so she might settle her fingers into the crook of his elbow.

Within that sudden nearness, she was painfully aware of the scent of spice clinging to his skin—some overwhelming mixture of clove and ginger.

The sheer strength of it sent her head pounding in complaint.

“I’m so terribly honored, Your Majesty,” Lord Ezzo purred again within those closer quarters, his breath tickling the side of her face. No doubt he thought he was being alluring.

He wasn’t.

“Oh, I have no doubt,” came Seraphina’s immediate reply as she allowed the man to lead her toward the table that had been prepared for their dinner. Greenery adorned the space in a fresh splash of color with fern sprigs and flowers from the gardens interspersed amongst the selection of fruits, pastries, and game—a favorite source of meat within the gnarled and tangled wilds of Drakmor.

Seraphina much preferred the domesticated beasts of Elmoria’s rolling hills.

“And how well Elmoria treats its allies, Your Majesty,” Lord Ezzo bantered as he guided her into one of the waiting chairs. “Why, are those my favorite apricot pastries I see in attendance tonight?”

“Indeed so,” Duke Percival finally interjected. Her godfather pulled out a chair for Duchess Edith while he spoke. “I am rather fond of them myself, my lord, so what luck for us both.”

“Mm,” was Lord Ezzo’s only reply.

And with that, Seraphina had officially had her fill of small talk.

From across the table, she felt Duchess Edith’s eyes digging into her, as if her godmother could sense her intentions before she next opened her mouth to speak.

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