Of Blood and Roses

Chapter 6

Elliotte used to always escort me on special occasions.

We would always have to arrive to events before Blanche and our mother, so somewhere while growing up it had become our custom. A few moments to ourselves, usually full of Elliotte teasing me for being nervous, or me chiding him while he nursed yet another hangover. It had always been our special thing.

So when Jourdon arrived to escort me to dinner, for a few moments I couldn't shake the pang in my chest. The wrongness of not seeing Elliotte there. I hesitated a moment before taking his arm--a hesitation that did not go unnoticed. But I couldn't shake the momentary disappointment, the urge to go back to my room, close the door, and wait for Elliotte to arrive instead. To stay there until I was back home again, all of this a bad dream.

But it wasn't I was here in Garnette, and it was clear based on his frown and impatient gaze that Jourdon still held no affection for me.

Tonight Jourdon looked more put together--more like the man I had envisioned. He had traded in his suit for a finely pressed dark long coat, his embroidered sleeves encrusted with glittering garnets. It even appeared someone had attempted to tame his disheveled hair. But his cool affect and silence remained unwavering. I took his arm, turning my gaze towards the hallways, unable to ignore how his body tensed once he touched me.

How would I ever fix this? Despair lingered out of sight, making my breaths shudder until I managed to contain it. I would fix this.

I had to.

Jourdon led me to a set of double doors. He turned to address me, his frown deepening.

Something told me there was more than the Queen's ill health bothering Jordon.

"In a few moments you will meet my father," he said, cooly, his voice lowered so only I could hear. "I do not know what you have heard of him in Rosailles, but he might not be what you expect."

I regarded Jourdon, not sure what to make of him. He held me at a distance, no warmth to suggest he was my friend, yet there was an urgency to him--no matter what he thought of me, his father was worse. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

Jourdon sighed, rubbing a finger over his scar before looking at me again. There was a flicker of...something, but it was gone before I could place it. "My father likes to be entertained, and I fear this evening you, as the Rose Princess, may become easy prey for his entertainment. Just do not give into his wiles and he will bore of it quickly."

I let his words sink in before giving a short nod, trying to prepare myself for what would greet me beyond the dining hall's doors. "Well, there are many nobles in Rosailles like that as well. Nothing I haven't dealt with before."

Jourdon studied me for a moment. "Perhaps." His voice was tight. "I just thought it imperative that I warn you."

The juxtaposition of the concern in his words against the practiced indifference on his face did little to warm me. Governess Bernadette had told me multiple times that women were not viewed the same in Garnette as they were in Rosailles. That showing vulnerability and modesty were ideal feminine qualities.

And I really wanted to appeal to Jourdon, I did. But his concern... I just couldn't tell if it was genuine. One minute he worried I was meek and easily upset, the next he looked upon me like I was the evil Rose-blooded witch his ancestors would have called me. I could not be both, surely he could see that.

"I'll be fine," I replied, somewhat sharply.

If Jourdon caught my tone, he didn't acknowledge it. He nodded to the doorman, who flung open the doors with a flourish as we entered.