♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE PREQUEL, THE GOLDEN DUCHESS, TO READ THIS BOOK!♦
BEWARE--spoilers in this blurb, for those who have not read previous books! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
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The world is upside down, and those you thought you knew... you no longer...
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Antoine slept most of the time. Even when the carriage rattled over beaten paths, and Sébastien poked in to warn them they had to take detours, the King remained mute.
At one point, when the King had a moment of lucidity, Sébastien galloped beside them as Céleste held the window flap up to better see him.
"There are many military encampments leading to Giroma," said the Prince, keeping his eyes on the road. The weather had shifted for the worse; frost coated the ground and gray skies expanded ahead. "Which is new. Likely caused by Napoléon's desire for conquest or his probable takeover of France."
Antoine stayed silent, but nodded.
"So this delays us a lot?" Céleste was desperate for a real bed, for a change of outfit, for a wash-bin to rinse off the grime of traveling. She'd never been cloistered in a vehicle for so long, munching on snacks thrown through the window, and taking uncomfortable naps using bunched up clothes as pillows. She'd barely been allowed out to empty her bladder, and hadn't seen Julia since they left.
"Only a little." Sébastien flashed her a quick glance and tried a smile, but Céleste could tell he was worried, as his eyes creased and his posture was rigid. "We should arrive at the Giromian border overnight."
She only knew the date—January twenty-sixth—thanks to Sébastien's briefings, and had no notion of where in France they were. The stretch of land between Giroma and Totresia wasn't huge; why did they keep rerouting?
"Once we reach the border, we will rest a moment. I believe it might be best to sneak in, instead of showing my face to all. With the rumor of disturbances in Giroma, I worry Romain will not take well to me escorting his bride."
Antoine snorted. "I told you that."
Sébastien ignored his brother. "I must ensure that if we are stopped, no one inspects this carriage, lest they discover you two. Unless," he chortled, "you can fit into trunks until we get to Westten."
Antoine's growl prompted Sébastien to hasten off towards the front of the proceeding.
Céleste released the window flap. "Is such negativity necessary?"
"It would not be, had my sibling listened to me and let me handle things on my own. I am the eldest, no? The King?" Antoine crossed his arms as he leaned into his seat. "We would have a captain leading us legally into Giroma, not my well-known, easily recognized brother, Prince Sébastien of Totresia. Romain might take it as a slight. He might refuse entry, even to his bride-to-be."
Céleste dipped a hand into the bag of fruit at her side. "It would not have changed the fact that we would be locked in here, never permitted a breath of fresh air."
"Yes, well, you signed on for this." Antoine lifted his legs and set his dusty boots onto the trunk before him, spraying dried dirt at Céleste's feet. "The fewer stops we make, the quicker we can get there, and you can talk to Prudence. Do not forget; that is our goal. Miss Espinar's presence is our cover-up. I only seek to see the Princess and check on her and..."
