Chosen : Assassin Book 1

Chosen - Chapter Fifty-Three

"Joselyn Moore!"

"Mother."

"Do not mother me. Do you have any idea how long you have been gone?" she asked, wagging a finger in my face.

"Approximately three months."

"Yes! Three whole months! That is entirely irresponsible on your part."

"Madame, she was attending to business with me."

My mother dipped into a low curtsy when she noticed Cassius standing beside me. "Forgive me, majesty. I was simply concerned for my daughter's well-being."

"She has been in more than capable hands, Madame."

"Yes, that is what I'm afraid of."

"Mother! My maidenhead and your honor are still intact. For the love of all things." I shook my head and brushed past her into the castle.

She always knew how to ruin a fantastic mood.

"Joselyn and Angeline, the seamstresses are waiting for you in your chambers. Harry, there will take you," Cassius said. "Duchess, please take tea in my own private rooms. Relax and enjoy being in the inner sanctum of Windsor Castle. My home."

My mother's nostrils flared, and her face turned to beat red. She pursed her already tiny, bird lips into a thin line, knowing she could not argue with her king and lord. Thankful for the reprieve in having to see her after such a long and fantastic time away.

Two dozen ladies stood in the room Harry showed us to wait. Bolts of fabric, yards of silk, piles of satin sat about. I glanced at Angeline who stared back at me.

"What is all of this for?" I asked.

"We have lots of gowns to make and not a lot of time," a tall, sour-looking woman said. "Lady Joselyn, please come with us. Angeline, you are going with those ladies there."

I slowly followed twelve of the ladies to one side of the room with a pedestal while Angeline climbed onto another.

"How many gowns are to be made?" I asked.

"Four."

"Four? What exactly does the king have planned?" I asked again.

"There are to be so many festivities this week all with the instruction not to inform you or the miss here about anything."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What is he doing?" Angeline asked.

"I already know at least one thing he has planned."

"What?" she queried.

"Your wedding."

"My wedding? The king is taking care of my wedding?"

"Apparently so," I mumbled. "But what else could he have going on this week?"

The ladies giggled, quickly stopping when the sour-faced woman tusked them.

"Now, stop moving," she ordered.

She held up the most remarkably beautiful red, satin fabric. I ran my hand down the length of it, enjoying the softness.

"This will definitely look lovely on you."

She tossed it to the side and picked up deep purple damask. She held it up, squinting and eyeing me and the fabric. There were dark, soft flowers on the fabric. She held up brown fur and shiny, lighter shade of purple.