The Golden Princess (#4 in the GOLDEN series) ✔

•T H I R T Y - O N E•

Cornelius' footsteps resumed. He marched to Prudence's side, but didn't pay her any heed—he glared at his King. "I am ashamed, Majesty." His fists bunched close to Prudence's shoulders. "I might have implied it, I never thought she had truly been defiled. It was a jape, a cruel one, I will admit. But I had no clue."

Prudence swung to the Duke and frowned at him, recalling all his japes, as he called them.

Before she could growl at him, Romain huffed. "Nor did I. But it is done. We must handle it."

Wringing her hands in her lap, Prudence released a slow and steady breath. "Perhaps we could—"

Romain and Cornelius snapped their necks to her. The Duke glared down as one would a dog that disobeyed, and the King angled over the table, his index finger inches from her nose.

"You will do nothing," said the latter, his breath like fire from a dragon's mouth. "You have done enough. Let the men come up with an alternative, would you?"

Cornelius grumbled, continuing his stomps, his musk fluttering into Prudence's nostrils and making her want to sneeze.

"What alternative is there? I cannot marry her now! She holds the bastard heir to Totresia in her belly! She is a fraud! How can I associate with that?"

Pauline cleared her throat. She'd been so mute, so transparent until then, it was as if she were asleep. "That is my daughter, Cornelius. Watch your tone." She tipped close to the desk, and her satiny coral bodice jamming into the wood. "Son, tell me this; is the ball still on? Or should I cancel it? It is tomorrow. I must notify the kitchens and send out messengers if we are to—"

"—no." Romain massaged his temples. "And I would prefer if you concentrated on this issue, Mother, I do not think we should cancel it. It is my birthday too, after all, and I will not let her ruin it with her shameful actions."

Tears gathered at Prudence's lash-line, but she held them in. Bile reached the back of her mouth, but she held it in, too. Along with the scream she yearned to release, and the urge to prostrate herself at her brother's feet.

She was ashamed. Disgusted, riddled with guilt, pained—but she'd already suffered through the embarrassment in Totresia. Here, with her new family, having to experience it all again made her feel sorry for herself.

"Majesty," Cornelius thumped a foot to the ground, "I implore you for time to think this through. I should go home for a few days, brainstorm."

Pauline swiveled in her seat. "And miss the ball?" It was as if none of the discussion had happened, and all that mattered to her was the damned party.

Prudence twisted to watch his reaction. The Duke's face matched all she'd imagined—cheeks tinted scarlet, eyes dark as the depths of hell, shoulders squared, nose in the air. A striking man, but filled with hatred.

"Unfortunately, Dowager, I have other matters to attend to, as it so happens."

"Leave him be, Mother," said Romain, snapping at Pauline. "Do what you must, Cornelius, but I ask that you be smart about this."

Cornelius' teeth clenched as he bowed. "I will, Sire. A reminder; your bride arrives soon. It may be wise to settle this," he motioned in Prudence's general direction, "before she gets here."

"That is my intention." Romain sighed. "Go on, then. Send word when she has reached us."

Cornelius bowed again, then flipped around and sauntered off, a trail of smoke in his wake.

Both women spun to Romain. He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The marriage treaty remains. He cannot reverse such a decision without my say so, and I do not say so. We set this up decades ago, and he fought me for it! I care not for his pride."