Romain's face turned redder than a fully bloomed scarlet rose, and he barged out, screaming about finding Cornelius at once.
It had to be a nightmare. Céleste had it all wrong, she'd misunderstood, misinterpreted facts; it wouldn't be the first time.
The crimson-coiffed toxic beauty who stole Antoine, who conspired with Clémentine, who paraded among Totresian nobles pretending to belong, the flimsy excuse for a Queen, the bad friend... was coming to Giroma? No.
It cannot be.
Prudence had sunk to her knees without realizing, and Pauline appeared before her as an angel in satin skirts, wrapping her arms around Prudence's waist.
"Heavens," she said, struggling to heave her daughter up, "we must get you back into your seat." She guided Prudence to her chair. "This affects you more than you think." She jutted her chin at Prudence's stomach. "Both of you."
Clutching her lower belly, and surprised that it didn't ache, Prudence winced. "You have no idea. Adelaide is vermin. A conspirator, a rat disguised as a mouse. She will hurt him. She will hurt us."
Pauline plunged into her seat, her great gown billowing up as if to swallow her whole. "There has never been such drama in Giroma. Not even when your father died. We covered it up, protected the people, but..." She swiped the back of her hand over her forehead. "In twenty-some years, we have been peaceful, quiet. But now—"
"—now you have me." Guilt bubbled inside Prudence as she dug her nails deeper into her stomach. Pauline snapped to her, mouth agape; but Prudence shook her head. "It is true, no? All this drama started when you told Romain who I was. When he brought me here. Home. I ruined your home."
She prepared to stand, gripping the armrests, but Pauline clapped a hand atop hers, blocking her. "No." She groaned. "I mean, yes, the drama coincidentally animated with your arrival, but it is not your doing. I should have been more cautious. Should have spoken up sooner, better eased you into your new life, not dragged you here in haste to marry you off to the highest bidder."
Prudence snorted. "Drama follows me. I caused it in Totresia, too. I sent the woman I once called Mother into a frenzy over trying to dispose of me, pushed my friends into insanity, messed with the man I—" she choked before saying loved, "—with the King's position. It is not all your doing, either."
"You are not at fault." Pauline fixed a stray curl that had skidded over Prudence's temple. Her glistening eyes showed real emotion, for the first time that morning, leading Prudence to believe she was happy to be a grandparent, even if it was to a foreign child. "It was that Dowager, Clémentine." She flinched, fighting a snarl. "I abhor how she treated you. Giromian or not, she raised you, took you in as family. Yet she offered you fear instead of happiness." Her lower lip quivered. "And that is my doing. I let it happen, and I should have invaded—"
"—no." Prudence slouched, molding into the cushions. She and Pauline both had much to atone for, and it became more obvious by the minute. "What is done is done."
Pauline mimicked her daughter's hunched posture. "Perhaps we should cancel the ball. With that wench running loose... Adelaide, her name is? I do not want her overshadowing your celebrations."
Imagining the radiant yet rejected redhead swarming into the ballroom, Prudence smirked. "She is disgraced, Mother." She straightened up and spun to Pauline. "A divorcee from Totresia. Do you honestly believe Giromians will accept her as their Queen?"
Pauline tapped a fingertip to her chin. "You make a fair point."
Prudence's smirk erased as another realization hit her square in the face. "Oh, dear." She gaped at her still-flat tummy. "The Dowager almost incited a riot against Antoine, believing he could not conceive an heir for Totresia. But now we have proof that he was never infertile. Adelaide was! That flaming truth swims in my belly, and Romain is about to marry a woman who cannot have children!"
"That may work in our favor." Pauline sighed and stood up. "But it may also be that she and the Totresian monarch were not compatible. It happens." She meandered off to the small council table, where a platter of fruits and charcuterie had been placed earlier that morning. "And I do not think speaking of your condition is the wisest plan at the moment. We should let Romain handle this his way." Her voice was smaller, and she turned away as she munched on a grape. Any momentary kindness she'd showed faded, and she returned to her neutral self, avoiding Prudence's gaze as she peered at the curtains.
The Study door wrenched open, prompting the Dowager to break from her trance, and Prudence to jump to her feet.
Romain marched in with clenched fists. "It is true. All of it!" Fumes poured from his nostrils, and his chest caved in with his every inhale. "He chose Adelaide. Adelaide. As my bride? That... ah!" He punched at a statue near the wall, and it shattered at his feet, garnering a squeak from Pauline and a gasp from Prudence. "Did I not make myself clear, in Torrinni? Did he not hear me? Was he not there when I insisted I would not be with that horrid woman?"
Intimidated—and slightly petrified—by her brother's display of violence, Prudence tried to contain her snort as his fiery eyes met hers. "Horrid woman?"
He did not find her horrid a few weeks ago, ogling her in the Ballroom.
"I thought you liked her, at first?" She cocked her head, wondering if she'd imagined his admiration of the French lady. And slowly doubting that he had anything to do with Cornelius summoning her to Giroma.
Romain stormed to his desk and shoved the chair out of his way, so hard it skidded across the floor-boards and banged into the window.
"Like her?" He growled as he retrieved the chair, and slammed it against the desk; once, twice, three times, the sound deafening. "I was playing the Totresian games! Clémentine wanted to give her to me, so I pretended, and... for goodness' sake, do you ever listen to me?" He glared at Prudence. "I informed you I prefer brunettes!"
Prudence inclined her head—he had said that, the night they met. "Pardon me, brother, but that changes nothing. Your dear Duke has invited an enemy here and wants you to wed her. Are you saying you were unaware of this?"
"Of course I was unaware!" He huffed and kicked at one of the drawers, rattling the desk. "It is not happening, no. Never." He pulled out his chair and sat, jamming his elbows onto the wood and shrugging his fingers through his hair. "She has crossed into Giromian territory, so I am told. I advised that damned Duke that she is not welcome at the castle. Not welcome at court. The ex-spouse of that Totresian moron? Daughter of a lowly French lord? No, thank you."
Prudence flinched at his insult of Antoine, but sewed her lips shut.
"Thank the heavens," said Pauline, her voice a murmur as she relaxed and blew out her cheeks.
"I asked him how deemed that an appropriate match, and do you know what he had the audacity to say to me?" He crammed his elbows to his sides and sat up straight. "She is beautiful! A redheaded rarity, Sire!" His imitation of Cornelius' overly honeyed voice was so spot-on, Prudence struggled not to laugh. "He should be... oh, if he were not your betrothed, Prudence, if we had not started drawing up paperwork, I would have him tossed into a dungeon! To teach him a lesson! I should have known!"
The remarks Prudence yearned to throw at him bulged in her throat. The I told you so she'd held on to, the warnings that Cornelius was a fraud, an idiot, and a terrible man who had only his own interests at heart. But with such an out-of-character act—giving Adelaide to Romain—she was no longer certain what his motives were. What did he seek to do by allowing the former Totresian Queen into Giroma? A taunt to Romain? Or a blow to Prudence?
Or does he have yet another ulterior scheme in motion?
Pauline fell back into her habitual silence, and Prudence tried to make sense of her erratic thoughts and questions.
Romain rose from his seat. "I should have made him contact Julia. Perhaps," he scratched his chin, "perhaps it is not too late for that. A Totresian bride would still be better than her." He yanked a drawer open and extracted a bundle of papers, dropping them onto the desk with a thud. "He is racing to meet Adelaide, and will take her to his palace in Terter, to keep her there until I figure out what to do with her. We," he glanced at Prudence, bunching his eyebrows, "still have issues to deal with. What are we to do with you, hm? My pregnant sister and her Totresian baby! How are we to make this predicament benefit us somehow?"
She already knew what he'd do, and sensed her body numbing at the idea of it. He'd continue with his decision to force Cornelius to marry her, force him to accept her Totresian child as his. As punishment for his daring. And it would be a punishment for her, too, having to pose as his wife while praying not to slit his throat as he slept.
Cornelius will raise my bastard child, and Adelaide will weasel her way into court and find some means to wed Romain, regardless of his refusal.
Her gut, beckoning at her to run away, churned and twisted into knots. She'd made the wrong choice by following her heart, by following her family and her heritage. And she couldn't sit around any longer, to watch her already unpleasant life worsen, and her mental health decline.
So while Romain prepared her death sentence—her marriage to Cornelius—she had to prepare her getaway. She had to disappear before the ball; sneak into France or Italy or Spain, far from her shame, her enraged sibling, her tight-lipped mother, and her conspiring future husband.
But how?
•••