Page 11 of Twelve Nights In The Prince's Bed

Poppy’s eyes narrowed. She conjured an image of Adrastos, seeing him as he was: strong, indomitable, a force of pure energy and courage, and imagined how little Clementine’s criticism would upset someone like him. Only it wasn’t fair. None of this was Adrastos’s fault. He’d simply done exactly what she’d asked.

‘Oh, Poppy.’ Clementine sighed. ‘I cannot help wondering how and why this happened. Youknowwhat he is like. The King is beside himself. The idea of Adrastos involvingyouin his lifestyle, the idea of him treatingyoulike the others...’

Poppy made a chortled sound of disbelief. She had worried she might be exiled and, instead, the Queen was simplyworryingabout Poppy. Worrying because of Adrastos’s reputation. Well, she wasn’t wrong, and yet an unexpected protective instinct licked through her, and she thought of the time in the library, many years ago, when Adrastos had found Poppy crying and promised her that everything would be okay. She’d felt his protectiveness and his protection and those feelings moved through her again now, only it was Adrastos she wanted to protect and defend.

‘It’s not like that,’ she mumbled, speaking almost without thinking. ‘I promise, it’s different.’

Clementine was so quiet, and that silence should have given Poppy time to think, to reflect on the words that were forming in her mouth, but all she could think about was how much she wanted to spare Adrastos from his parents’ criticism. After all, she’d seduced Adrastos. The whole thing had beenheridea. True, he’d gone alongverywillingly, but he wouldn’t have touched her with a ten-foot bargepole if he’d known about her innocence—a point he’d made blindingly clear immediately afterwards.

Poppy winced.

‘Generally, the palace doesn’t comment on Adrastos’s...business,’ Clementine said with obvious distaste. ‘But you are our goddaughter, and everyone knows it. Anders would like to discuss the best way forward, the best damage control, if you will.’

When Clementine referred to the King’s private secretary, Poppy knew it was a really big deal. Anders didn’t get involved in anything beneath his pay grade.

Suddenly, Poppy felt that she was in way over her head. It was all too much.

‘I’m just so disappointed, Poppy, in both of you, if I’m honest. How can our family proceed after this?’

Poppy felt the world crumbling beneath her, she felt the reality she was facing. Clementine might have been angrier at Adrastos, she might have pitied Poppy her stupidity in having a one-night stand with him, but, when push came to shove, he was their son and heir to the throne and if things became awkward it was Poppy who’d face exile from the family, not Adrastos. She couldn’t lose them! This family was all she had.

It was vital to find a way through this that spared the King and Queen from feeling awkwardness, from having to make the difficult decision to cut Poppy from their family’s lives.

‘He should have known you, of all people, were off limits, but he cannot help himself, it seems. I am so disappointed,’ she repeated. ‘And you know what he is like! You know better!’

Poppy flinched. None of this was meant to be in the public sphere. It had been her personal moment, a personal triumph. She’d lost her virginity and now the whole world knew about it. Not that she’d been innocent, but that she’d been taken to bed by the great philanderer Adrastos Aetos.

‘You do know better, don’t you, darling? I have tried to raise you as your mother would have, to instil sense and reason, to guide you. I wouldn’t have thought...’ The Queen trailed off, lost in thought, and Poppy cringed, feeling as though she’d badly let down her godmother.

Clementine sighed, rallied, began to speak once more, a different tack this time, no less effective. ‘You’ve worked so hard, Poppy, but what about your professional credibility?’ the Queen murmured. ‘You were so eager to establish yourself all on your own, without our help and contacts, without any connection to us. Surely you can see how damaging this will be to your reputation?’

‘It’s not the nineteenth century,’ Poppy couldn’t help pointing out. ‘My private life is still my own. I cannot see that it will have any impact on my work.’

‘That’s naïve,’ Clementine said gently, with sad affection. ‘And idealistic. Of course itshouldn’timpact your work, but it will. Events like this have a habit of taking over, of becoming all that a person is known for. Your professional successes will be mentioned as an afterthought to this. You must have known how many ripples in the pond would come from spending the night with Adrastos?’

Poppy felt as though she might vomit, and it had nothing to do with all the champagne she’d drunk after sleeping with Adrastos. The picture Queen Clementine painted was suitably dire, and, unfortunately, not entirely inaccurate. Poppy was well respected in her role as a human rights lawyer but none of her achievements would ever be mentioned before this piece of gossip. There would be whispers behind her back for a long time to come now her night with Adrastos was public knowledge.

Unless...

She sat up straighter, stared at the wall, an idea coming to her quite out of nowhere. It seemed crazy at first, but as she held the idea in the front of her mind and examined it from all angles, she realised it wasn’t crazy so much as the only way through this that might preserve her professional reputation, save Adrastos from his parents’ wrath, and also make it possible to maintain the status quo within the family—something that meant more to her than she could ever put into words.

‘Your Majesty, there’s something I have to tell you...’

Poppy moved with greater dexterity than she’d been capable of summoning half an hour earlier. She changed into a pair of jeans, a turtleneck skivvy and a faux fur jacket, dashed some bright lipstick into place and finger-combed her hair over one shoulder, before donning dark sunglasses and pulling open the front door of her house with one mission in mind: she had to speak to Adrastos.

But as soon as the door opened, she was blinded—by the startling winter sun first, then the flashes of a thousand cameras.

‘Oh, my God.’

She dipped her head forward, pulling the door shut quickly and moving through the pack, numb and terrified at the same time. Why hadn’t she anticipated this? Because she’d been a bundle of nerves and emotions since waking. Everything had happened so fast, like a snowball caught in an avalanche, and Poppy hadn’t dared take time to stop and think about whether or not this course of action was wise: it was the only solution, so she’d had to pursue it.

‘Poppy, is it true you’re secretly engaged to the Prince?’

‘Poppy, how do you feel about him? Is it love?’

‘Poppy, Poppy, Poppy!’

She walked quickly, fingernails digging into her palms, but the photographers followed her as a swarm of bees might ambush a picnic, so she was regretting her decision to have this conversation face to face. Only shehadto see Adrastos. She was a tumble of feelings and nerves, and while seeing him might make it worse, it would also, she thought with crossed fingers, make it somehow better.

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