The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 53

"Thank you, Everard," Mother said curtly. "Leave us."

The valet bowed and backed out.

"Do not dally, Thomas. I am having breakfast with Adelaide and Libby," she said, sweeping towards the door. "I will do my best to keep her away, but Nisha should make herself scarce until we've—"

"Nisha isn't going anywhere," I said.

Mother's jaw set. "If you insist on maintaining this charade, then you ought to consider that a real mistress would sneak out with the dawn, not wander the palace to antagonize your betrothed."

She left before I could reply, and part of me disliked that she had a point.

"I like her," Nisha said with an approving nod, after Mother had left.

"Then we'd best get back on her good side. She has a point, so stay here until I come back."

"But what good am I if I can't even—"

"I know. But I can't risk them kicking you out of the palace."

Nisha huffed. "They can try. I'll just break in again, like a stubborn stray cat."

I sighed. "Let's see what my father has to say, and then we'll decide."

~*~

The halls were quiet in the early morning light that filtered through the windows. It was still too early for most except the servants to be awake, and I fought yawn after yawn as I hurried towards my father's study, regretting that I hadn't rung for Giles to bring me a strong cup of tea first.

But I hadn't been able to dally, not after Mother had mentioned some new development. Hope fought against dread's stranglehold on my chest, and both of them made it feel hard to breathe when I raised my hand to knock on father's study door.

I blinked in surprise when Andrew answered it. His eyes were circled, as if he hadn't slept well.

"Good morning," I said warily, glancing past him towards father's desk.

My stomach sank. A candle had burned all the way down, leaking wax all over the candlestick—a sure sign that Father had been awake through most of the night, poring over the piles of papers on his desk. Behind it, Father didn't even look up.

"Sit down," he said, quill scratching across the sheet before him.

I glaned at Andrew, who simply nodded towards the second chair set before the desk. A teapot had been brought up, but with only two cups that had already been poured for the pair of them. My jaw clenched. Only two cups, as if they didn't expect me to stay long enough to merit one of my own.

Calm, I told myself. I needed to remain calm.

"Mother said there's been a new development," I said, as I took my seat.

Father's quill paused, then resumed. "That is not why I summoned you."

"She's not really a merchant's daughter," I said, ignoring the uncomfortable twisting of my stomach and guessing at the real reason he'd summoned me so I wouldn't try his patience. "She's a Bazeran warrior allied with Frederico, sent here to—"

"I don't care who she is," Father said, his tone flat, quiet, and dangerous. I swallowed the rest of my words when he looked up at me, his eyes cold as steel. "I want to know why you're so damned determined to disobey me at every turn."

I glanced at Andrew, but he was focused on stirring cream into his tea. "I—I'm sorry," I managed, "But she's here to help. I had to—"

"Do you think I give a damn about some Bazeran warrior masquerading as a merchant's daughter to get into my son's bed?" I opened my mouth to protest, to explain that it wasn't like that, but Father shoved away from his desk so violently that it nearly upset his teacup and inkpot. "No, what I give a damn about is news of Germanian troop movements near the border with Kentshire and Umberwood."