Page 27 of The Rejected King
Then Miss Dutson turned, catching Davin watching her. He quickly looked away, pretending to study his shoes in great detail.
“Your Majesty?” Miss Dutson said, coming up to him. Her voice was businesslike and serious. She reached out, handing him a folded paper. “This is an urgent matter if you have a moment. If you could send me word of your decision?”
Davin grabbed the note and watched Miss Dutson nod at Millar and then walk away. He looked down at the paper, wondering what was so urgent. He unfolded it and began to read.
You were right. I had no clue who the real murderer was. Every time I thought I had it figured out that character would die. I was completely shocked at the end. Well played, Agatha Christie. Well played. I think we need something a little more lighthearted next time. I’m in the mood for some romance. If you’re up for it, I’ll share one of my favorites with you.
Davin bit his lip, looking back at Miss Dutson. His stomach stirred. He was also in the mood for a little romance. Until he remembered Portlend Ricks.
Suddenly Davin wasn’t in the mood for anything. Except maybe a boxing fight.
12
Emree
Abuzz of excitement filled Emree’s chest as she walked the length of the castle’s grand hall, checking to make sure every detail of the opening dinner was ready. At the far end of the room, long tables had been set up for dinner. The dais sat opposite the tables, lined with garlands of white flowers. A live quartet positioned on the balcony above played soft background music while servants carrying trays of bubbling drinks walked through the guests. Everything was perfect.
So far, the first day of the Promenade had gone as planned, except for a few minor quarrels with some women not wanting to share a room with this particular woman or that one—the typical catty stuff that events like the Promenade brought out in women, especially ruling class women. But Emree had managed to keep everyone calm and happy. If the opening dinner could go as well as the afternoon had, Emree would be thrilled.
Promenade participants had started to file into the grand hall, gathering together in small groups as they waited for the king to arrive. Chatter filled the air as the women compared dresses and hairdos. A few soldiers and officers roamed around, introducing themselves to the ladies. Portlend wasn’t there. He had to train a group of soldiers, which was for the best since Emree had to work. Although, she would have loved it if he could have seen her all dressed up for the Promenade dinner. Tonight she had on a colored dress that Yvonne Kemp had given her—an elegant plum gown with a square cut neck, three quarter length sleeves, and a long flowing skirt. Emree had taken extra time styling her hair, leaving it down and wavy, allowing it to match the movement of her dress when she walked. She felt dignified and beautiful, and that feeling added to her confidence.
A few newswriters circulated the room, interviewing different women. Fiona Rudd was among them. Emree smiled at her, but the woman raised her chin and looked away. Obviously, she wasn’t over the briefing yet.
Queen Arillia floated from group to group, greeting the women. She was dressed in a navy-blue gown with a boatneck top. The sleeves were long and billowy, matching the bottom of the dress. She looked elegant and queenly as she showered guests with her smile.
“Everything seems to be going well, Miss Dutson. Great job,” the queen mother said as she passed by.
“Yes, so far, so good.”
Queen Arillia stretched on her toes, casting her eyes around the room. “Has Patrice Kenson come down?”
Emree shook her head. “I’m not sure. I haven’t met her yet.” She hadn’t managed to meet every woman personally as they had arrived in droves, but she was very interested in meeting Patrice.
The queen mother tapped the side of Emree’s arm with the flick of her hand. “I can’t wait to introduce you. Patrice is such a lovely young woman. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping Davin chose her at the end of all this.” She grimaced. “Is it terrible for me to play favorites?”
Something like jealousy gnawed at Emree’s heart, but she quickly squashed it down. “Not at all. He’s your son, and you want what’s best for him.”
Queen Arillia nodded. “You’re exactly right. I want what’s best for him. You know, Patrice and Davin grew up together. Whenever the high rulers were in session at the castle, Patrice’s family would stay in New Montana. The two of them used to run the halls of this place as children and attend the same political parties as teenagers. They have a common background.” She waved her hand around the room at the other women. “Although these women come from the ruling class, they don’t know what it takes to be a queen. It’s hard work, and there’s little room for error. Patrice understands all that because her father is a high ruler. That’s how it was for King Desmond and me. My father was a high ruler, so I understood the pressures of royalty. It made our marriage so much easier because we understood each other. I want Davin to have the kind of ease and happiness in marriage that his father and I had. Patrice is the only girl in the Promenade that has been around this lifestyle ever since she was a young girl. She’s the portrait of perfection, and right now, Davin could use someone like that on his side to help appease the people.”
The knot in Emree’s stomach tightened. Was there a hidden meaning behind the queen mother’s words? A pointed warning tailor-made for Emree, reminding her of why the king had to marry Patrice? Emree shook the thought away. Queen Arillia would need to consider Emree a threat to chastise her in such a way. And Emree was anything but threatening. At least when it came to the king’s marriage prospects.
She pulled her lips into a smile. “Patrice sounds amazing.”
“So you’ll help me bring her and Davin together?”
Queen Arillia’s eyes were so kind. How could Emree say no? “If that’s what you want.”
Millar joined them. “The king is ready.”
“Oh, I have to go find Patrice,” the queen mother said, rushing away.
Emree turned to Millar. “How does he seem?”
Millar raised a questioning brow.
“Like is he excited? Completely committed to the Promenade?”
He eyed her. “I wouldn’t say he’s completely committed to the Promenade, but he’s a professional. He’ll put on a good show tonight.”
