♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE PREQUEL, THE GOLDEN PRINCESS, TO READ THIS BOOK!♦
BEWARE--spoilers in this blurb, for those who have not read previous books! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Kings. Queens. Princes & Princesses. Duchesses and Dukes. And... regents?
Eve...
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Céleste promised herself she wouldn't weep more than she already had. Poor King Antoine had to drag her from the Ballroom, and out of the castle and into the courtyard where she broke from his grasp, screamed at the top of her lungs, and tried to run in to snatch Sébastien by the breeches and bring him home with them.
Antoine's stern, cold expression—eerily reminding her of her father and brother—stopped her tantrum, but on the inside, a storm brewed as they hopped into their carriage and traveled across town to fetch Julia.
Céleste kept a stone face during it all, but the internal feeling didn't subside; the sour dread and anguish and pain at leaving not only her best friend behind, but her fiancé, too.
Why must he be so kind-hearted?
She almost sobbed again after they explained the situation to Julia—the casualties, the power struggle, and Prudence's pregnancy—but one scowl from Antoine and she swallowed her desire to yelp and throw another fit.
As the King issued instructions to the driver, and Julia processed the news, Céleste sulked.
The coach took off, trudging through melted snow, weaving between shops and housing units and parks. It passed the gates with ease, since they were no longer in hiding. The ride out of Westten was bumpier than Céleste remembered, and the slanted streets woke bitter sensations in her belly and a slight nausea that lingered for miles. And miles. And more miles.
Not long after their entry into the partially torched Westten Forest, Julia squeaked about rumors that had spread as she waited for someone to retrieve her from the Inn.
Antoine snapped. "None of that." His eyes turned a threatening shade of green and hazel, splattered with muddy brown. "I do not wish to hear of any falsehoods, understood?"
Julia sealed her lips after that, loath to incur the King's wrath.
One hour after their exit, Antoine smacked a palm to the carriage wall and groaned.
"She is with child—my child. Surrounded by vipers who will accuse her of killing her brother to take his throne." His cheeks turned to near violet as he dug his fingers into the fabric over the interior facade. "My country is on the brink of a revolt. God is testing me, is he not? Am I making the right choice?"
He sought reassurance, Céleste knew. Not her opinion, but some almighty sign that he was doing the best he could.
"Majesty..." She bit her lip, fearing she might explode into tears again. She worried for Prudence, too, but it was Sébastien she thought of most. He'd be in danger once Cornelius realized the Princess was alive, and though she respected his decision, she hated it, too. "You are making the right choice. Séb," she sniffled, "will watch over her, he swore it. You must watch over your land, first."
