CROSS SUIT (#2 COURT OF SUITS series)

♠ THREE ♠

The stress and exhaustion in the meeting room prompted me to need some oxygen from the overwhelming demands of royalty. "If that is all," I grabbed a corner of my lengthy skirts, "I dismiss you all so I can think."

None opposed this decision. Astrida, in her disappointment at permanently losing her chance at wedding Teodric, departed with a frown. But she promised to pick out the perfect jewelry for me to wear at the ball, and to craft the most decadent crown for my ceremony. Tilda scurried through the side door to the royal's private chambers, where she claimed she'd begun drawing up dress designs for my ridiculous outfit. Sir Sym and Lady Ossenna, troubled at their slow loss of power and the depletion of their forces, requested some time to rest.

"When one Ace is down, it weakens the quartet," Sir Sym had said earlier that day, as deep-set wrinkles worked their way from the corners of his eyes to his ears. "We are two Aces down, and not at the top of our game."

Ysac claimed he had some orders to go over with the other guards, so before I knew it, I was alone with Teodric.

He issued a polite smile as he tugged his thick collar up, preparing to leave. "Well, I suppose I should—"

"—walk with me, would you?" I sauntered up to him and offered my arm. "As the new monarch, I wish to extend to you my warm welcome to our kingdom; not the crappy, half-assed hello I gave you when we first met."

He seemed to hesitate to link his arm with mine, and his eyebrows scrunched. "You do not need to entertain me, Majesty. I'm sure I can find plenty to do while Ysac is busy."

"Nonsense." I seized him by the elbow and forced him to hobble along beside me as I escaped through the deserted throne room.

The floor-board's patterns danced on the ground below our feet, and our clicking heels echoed as we swished out, arriving at the carpeted corridor.

"I do need to entertain you. Your arrival set in motion events that allowed us to uncover immense deceit in our ranks, so I owe you my thanks."

He flushed, shrinking. "If anything, I caused that deceit."

"Absolutely not." I ignored the enormous portrait of my father to my left, his icy eyes piercing through me, trying to break my resolve. "You shed light on it, and for that I am grateful. Now, if only you could get me out of hosting that dreadful ball. That feat would grant you an automatic status of prince."

"You know..." he coughed into his fist, regaining his princely posture, "I have some experience with balls, if you wish for some advice. Ways to make the time go by faster, certain cocktails to imbibe that will... uh... relax you."

We moseyed down the windowless hall with its magic overhead lights sprinkling glowing dots all over our arms, and my interest was piqued.

"Good, because I'll do anything to survive that night and not lose my mind. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not much for frills. I shrugged off all those duties to my sisters. They have that inherent feminine gene that prompts them to squeal and squirm over dress fabrics and pretty pastries." I shook a rampant curl from my forehead. "I would rather be outside."

"Ah, but not atop a clubber," joked Teodric, remembering my distaste for the awkward, bull-faced creatures.

"Definitely not. You must wonder why I dislike them so much?" He nodded. "My mother was from Club Fields, actually, which is where clubbers are bred and raised. She was the daughter of a prominent aristocrat, poised in every way, and obsessed with clubbers. She wanted to enter the business of raising them herself." I snorted at the recollection—my father telling me how my exquisite, well-mannered, very ladylike mother was once fascinated by the beasts I hated.