The Heiress Queen (Season Series Prequel)

Chapter 49

"I missed you," Graham said eventually, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead against Isabelle's. The scent of roses surrounded them in the humid air of the winter garden, the moonlight spilling through the vines overhead as the stars twinkled between the leaves.

"Your letters saved me," she replied, savouring the feel of him in her arms. For the first time, she felt as if she'd found a home that wasn't Kentshire.

His eyes snapped open at her mention of letters, the words dragging forth all the noise he'd shoved to the back of his mind in his haste to get her answer. Now that his mind was functioning properly again, the warning signals that had been drowned out before roared to life once again. She hadn't just come to say yes, she'd come to warn him about something important enough that she'd said "yes, but" to ensure she had his attention.

He'd be sure to tease her about that later.

"Tell me again what happened with Lord Winters," he said, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. "There's someone we need to see."

Isabelle's reluctance to leave the winter garden was palpable, but now that his head had cleared, Graham's purpose had crystallized in his mind once again. Her yes was one thing, but there was another yes he required before he brought her back to the ballroom as his betrothed.

Isabelle explained as they walked, following Graham as he climbed a set of stairs that curved up into one of the old palace towers. She told him everything she knew and everything she had guessed about Lord Winters' plan. While she spoke, a knot twisted tight into Graham's stomach, this one, however, having nothing to do with the woman beside him. Winters was farther along in his plotting than they'd thought...

Rather than let such worries steal their evening, he glanced down at her instead, his heart swelling near to bursting. She'd come back for him. She'd come back to spare him, for though she hadn't dared to say it, he knew that Lord Winters' ultimate goal was not just to incite a rebellion, but to end Graham's bloodline.

One thing that the treasonous Lord Winters hadn't anticipated, however, was how hard Isabelle would fight to get back to Graham. She was throwing the full weight of Kentshire and her father's name behind the crown, damaging Lord Winters' cause with both the nobility and the commoners.

Graham couldn't have been more proud of her for puzzling all of that out on her own. She'd come a very, very long way from the love-blind little girl she'd been when she first arrived in Highcastle.

They stopped before a pair of ornate oak doors, the eagle and lion of the royal crest carved into the intricate woodwork. Steeling himself, Graham pulled Isabelle's hand up to kiss it.

"Whatever he says, allow me do the talking," he said, holding Isabelle's gaze until he was sure she understood. When she nodded once, her eyes wide as she took in the doors before them, he kissed her, as much for good luck as for the courage for what came next.

Graham knocked once before a footman opened the door from within.

"Have you made a decision?"

Isabelle's hand clenched in Graham's as he led her into the room, the sickly sweet stench of death flooding her nostrils. Candles chased the gloom from the corners, but the air was heavy and hot, as stifling as if a fist had closed around her lungs. Propped up on pillows in the middle of a massive, canopied bed was the king.

Only this was not the King Charles she remembered.

His cheeks were hollowed, his skin waxen as it stretched across his bones. Even though the room was dim, Isabelle could see that his once clear eyes had yellowed, his belly distended beneath the blankets.