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

•T H I R T Y - T W O•

Antoine cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "What is this about?"

"Please, Majesty," she motioned at the Winter Garden, "trust me. You trusted Maggie, no?"

He perked up, squinting at her, his lips bunching. "I did. I do." He released a lengthy exhale. "Fine, lead the way, Miss Richel."

Céleste hastened into the Winter Garden, and Antoine shuffled after her. Once she latched the door, she spun to peek through its glass window, to ensure no one had seen them, and no one would follow.

"Safe." She pivoted to the grand room and shimmied to its middle, where the King joined her. "Right. Now we can talk."

Antoine's gaze lifted to the crystalline ceiling. "Make it quick; if anyone finds you in here without an escort, it will not look good." He lowered his chin, and though his nostrils flared, his eyes were kind. "What was so urgent you had to snatch me from pressing business?"

A clock ticked in her mind. She had minutes before they'd be located by guards, other nobles, or worse—her brother.

"Majesty." She winced. "Antoine. First off, did Sébastien warn you of the theory that Adelaide is—"

"—headed to Giroma?" Antoine's cheeks flared with red. "Unfortunately, yes. We had our suspicions, and it seems you both made them real. We assigned a few spies to pursue her carriage, to confirm this."

"If it is confirmed, what happens?" She cringed; Antoine didn't need another reason to attack Giroma, and she worried the foreign King wedding his ex-wife might taunt him further.

He pulled on the bottoms of his lapels and straightened his posture. "I have not figured that out yet. Obviously, it highlights the fact that Prudence is not, and never will be, safe with her sibling. It further convinces me she did not write that letter that you showed me. She was coerced, and her brother is a puppet-master."

Céleste wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him, or smack him on the back of the head, hoping to break his stubborn spell. "She was not coerced. Those were her words, her true beliefs. She is not in danger from Romain, I am positive. But there are others that circle around her. He is not who you must be concerned with."

"You mean to tell me," he clicked his tongue and backed away, "that she told you to scurry off to your father and keep your distance from us? From the Totresian royal family? You imply that she sees us as perilous to you? Why would she say that? She has known us for decades, and—"

"—your mother." Céleste tried not to scrunch the letters as her muscles tensed. "And Adelaide. They are who she feared most, remember? Yes, she did write you down too, but it is more anger she harbors towards you, I think."

"That I will agree with." His fists bunched at his sides. "She could not look at me when she rode off. I remind her of Father, yes? She is afraid I will be a murderer like him?"

Biting her tongue, Céleste nodded.

You have no idea how close you truly are to murder.

"But I have more information." She swallowed, taking a hesitant step closer to him, preparing to slide her message to Prudence into his hand. "I did something foolish, and pushed too much, and obtained some news that will be detrimental, should it land in the wrong hands. I was supposed to tell Sébastien first, and he would tell you, soften the blow, but—"

The door behind her opened, crashing into the wall as it widened.

"Céleste Richel!"

She stiffened at Emeric's rigid and furious voice, but kept her gaze on the King. She had a mission and needed to complete it.

"You must swear to me that you will not attack Giroma, Majesty. It is imperative that you heed my warnings, that you see reason. Swear on your crown that you will not seek revenge for actions of your father, of other fathers, of plots decades in the making."

Emeric's giant-like footsteps grew closer and closer, and Céleste sensed her spine melting, her legs quaking, her footing no longer stable.

"Emeric?" Antoine's shoulders squared as he stepped forward, sending an arm out to protect Céleste. "What are you doing here?"

She kept her back to the scene, chewing on the insides of her cheeks, too panicked to turn around and see her sibling's monstrous grimace and the fumes rising from his head.

"She knows why I am here," said Emeric, and Céleste assumed he bowed. "I am sorry, Majesty, but I beg that you let me take her. We were to have a meeting, and she was late for it, and she has much to explain."

Antoine's arm tensed as he pressed it to Céleste's back, gently nudging her away. "I am sorry, Emeric, but we were having an important conversation, and as King, I beg that you treat your sister with more respect." He kept his tone level, but Céleste heard the quiet fury in it, the subtle reprimand.

She knew Emeric; the King's presence and authority would do nothing to save her from the scolding to come. She didn't want to tempt her brother into disobeying his King, creating more disasters she had no clue how to fix.

She flipped around, swept past Antoine's still outstretched arm, and presented herself to her brother. "I will go with you." Gritting her teeth, she twirled to Antoine and shoved the letter into his grip. "Take this," she whispered, "and read it. But first," she grabbed his wrist, causing him to hiss, "promise me you will do nothing rash. Promise me you will go to Sébastien, show him these words, debate with him, and use your wits before you listen to your heart. It wants war and blood, but you will not survive it. None of us will."

"I am losing patience!" Emeric's fingers wrapped around her forearm, yanking her from the King.

Antoine stood, immobile, gaping down at the message in his hands. "You are more cryptic than she ever was," he said under his breath, a hint of a smile slipping over his lips. "I was not planning to invade, but I realize how it appeared otherwise. Yes, I promise. You have my word, as King of Totresia. Though now, with all your seriousness, I fear what I am about to see."

"You should," she said, fighting her brother's grasp, "because it is huge and life-changing. It will—"

"—enough blabbering!" Emeric gave one last tug that sent her into his arms. He squeezed her chest, unrelenting, unforgiving. "Leave his Majesty alone!"

Antoine extended his free hand and lifted a foot to stride forward, but stopped, understanding he had no say in Emeric's treatment of his sister—King or not.

"It will what?"

Céleste groaned, and before her brother could muffle her speech, she let the truth spill out. "It will open your eyes. Romain is not your true enemy, Schwartz is! Remember that!" Emeric grunted, but she pushed into him one last time, slowing him down. "Do not let Emeric persuade you into violent action, because once he is done yelling at me, he will try to! War is not the way! Be smart—"

She said and saw no more as Emeric's hand smacked over her mouth, and he hauled her out into the Long Corridor.

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