♦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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After their chat, Jules and Céleste smuggled Clémentine into the Queen's quarters. He wouldn't let Clémentine wander about on her own; since Charlotte occupied the former Dowager apartments, on the same floor, Jules remained wary of her waking at night and becoming curious.
"Be quiet at all times," he said, breathless from his cautious crawling up the service stairs that deposited them near the Queen's chambers. "I will concoct an excuse for your presence and announce it to court. I will declare Antoine's sickness, which means—" he peeked at the King's suite, down the hallway, "—I will also have guards at that door. Against her intruders, or her, if she still seeks to speak with Antoine."
When Clémentine opened the door, a stale remnant of vanilla breezed out. She jolted around to her son, concern fizzling into her expression. "What excuse will you give them? Aside from my spies, it will please no one to know I am here." She fought a yawn, her jaw tightening as her eyes creased.
Jules tugged on the lapels of his coat. "That you were afraid for your sons since Antoine's near-death, and longed to be close." He snorted. "Yes, that sounds like you."
With no protest from Clémentine, Jules ordered soldiers to bar her door, and he shoved her inside. He then yanked Céleste downstairs to her suite, peering left and right every few steps, jumpy whenever he heard a creak or detected a shadow. Including his own.
Arrived at her threshold, Céleste curtsied. "Well, goodnight, then."
She wrapped her hand around the door-knob, but Jules squeezed her upper arm and spun her to him.
"Antoine may trust Mother, but I do not," he said, his whisper laced with irritation. His eyes shone like copper in the faint candlelight, inflected with wariness. "Be on your guard around her. Listen to what she says, but do not take to heart all she claims. She promised me the heavens, and here I am now, a Prince in a panic who sneaks around to avoid his own spouse."
"I promise, Highness." She inclined her head, bracing to, once more, bid him a goodnight; but he didn't remove his gaze from hers, insistent and prodding.
"You must act normal with Charlotte, and that ditzy friend of hers, understood?" His features turned somber as he released her. "I cannot have her more suspicious than she already is. She is furious about Antoine's reinstatement, and mentioned she was angry with her father too. Though that might be a game to divert my attention from him."
Céleste's heart pinched to see the Prince so dejected and paranoid. He was usually so full of life, frolicking about spilling alcohol and spitting out flirtatious jests.
"I will, Highness."
"How did this happen?" He sulked into the shadows, but didn't get far before groaning and returning into the light. "Being manipulated by this fierce, fearless, frightening lady who bats her eyelashes and I run to her skirts? Why? She worked me harder than Mother ever did." He seemed ready to laugh, yet the grimace on his face showed otherwise.
