♦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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The next day, during lunch, Marguerite told Sébastien of her meeting with the ladies of the court.
He chuckled, to her dismay. "Only you would allow noblewomen's gossip to affect you to the point of throwing up," he said, between bites of mutton and bouts of laughter.
She shrugged off his mockery. "I must get used to it. As their Queen, I must mingle with them, no?"
Sébastien was about to reply, but pounding footsteps came from the Dining Room entrance, prompting him to rise and reach for his pistol, under his frock coat.
On the alert, Marguerite also got to her feet, wondering who would cause such a commotion—but she and Sébastien both relaxed at the sight of Henry.
He bustled in, breathless as he bowed at the bottom of the podium. "Majesty," he heaved, "Sébastien." His fingers splayed across his broad chest as he sought to gather his wits. "She is talking."
"Who?" Sébastien asked as he and Marguerite descended from the dais to meet with Henry.
The Duke's hair spiked up and his cheeks splotched with red. "The seamstress!" He peered at Marguerite, his jade eyes flashing with sternness. "But she will only divulge further intelligence in the presence of the Queen."
Marguerite's heart-beat accelerated. "Then I—"
"—no," said Sébastien, raising a hand to bar her from marching out of the room. "It may be a trap." He kept his voice low, as nobles nearby stared at them. "I do not trust her. We should keep prodding at her without Maggie there."
The Duke of Spestein pinched his lips. "With all due respect, I have prodded her. For hours. I have been with her all morning. Until now, her mouth was sealed. She begged for the Queen."
Marguerite side-glared at Sébastien, then linked her arm with Henry's. "I agree with you, Séb, but this might be our only chance. We should go." She glanced down at her heaps of cobalt skirts. "Should I change? Such an outfit is not appropriate for the dungeons."
Sébastien squeezed to her other side. "If she will talk, then bring her to us." He nodded at Henry. "To the Ballroom, in chains. She has the shadows to her advantage in the prison cells, but here, we have additional guards and nobles to look down on her."
Acknowledging the idea, Henry sped up to fetch Angélique.
Somewhat reassured, Marguerite glided to the Ballroom, that Sébastien quickly ushered the loitering courtiers out of. Within minutes, the space was empty but for groups of guards before the podium, and more lining the cerulean carpet leading up to it. Sébastien ordered more soldiers to stand watch, and followed Marguerite to the thrones.
Settling on her chair, Marguerite reveled in the momentary silence. Sébastien slouched beside her, his off-cream outfit wrinkling. They exchanged a glance of uncertainty, conveying their worry via their minds.
