The sharp edges of the crumpled parchment stabbed the space between her breasts, nestled in her olive green bodice. The note's contents crinkled as she paced back and forth in the Little Reading Room—luckily empty—debating whether to reveal the letter's implications to her brother. The planning of Philippe's death, Pauline's involvement, and possibly the worst news—that Antoine was coming.
How would he travel? Solitary, with a guard or two? Or sneak in with Julia's proceeding, if she and her family had accepted Romain's proposal? When would he leave Totresia? Surely he would come across border patrols, French garrisons, and sly Giromians setting out to hunt him; was he prepared for that?
"Do I have time to send a messenger ahead to stop him? Or," she tapped a finger to her chin, "would it be better to warn Romain and beg him to be lenient?"
She hadn't heard of Miss Espinar's response, nor if Antoine had consented to give her to Romain. She believed Romain would have mentioned the news, to celebrate his upcoming engagement.
Her mind warped into fearing that her brother had no clue what was going on most of the time.
The door opened, and one of the guards peeked into the room. "Your Highness," he said, as Prudence pivoted to him. "His Majesty awaits you in his Study. It is urgent."
With a wince, Prudence grabbed the corners of her gown and crept down the halls that separated her from her brother's emerald-hued office.
Of course he had a clue. Romain might have appeared naïve at times, but he was a King. He had spies and emissaries and soldiers at the border, men bracing for clandestine entries and fickle foreigners seeking to slip into the country. Antoine would be no exception.
She sulked as she found the office door open, and grimaced when she found Romain and Cornelius arguing inside. Their voices were raised higher than she'd ever heard them, and she didn't dare make her presence known—yet
"It is a band of Totresians, I guarantee it!" Cornelius' hair was unleashed, and his black lapels flapped as he stomped back and forth before his King.
Prudence detected other nobles in the area—some loitered near Romain, some stood by the table off to the right.
Romain was on his office throne, elbows on his desk as he massaged his temples. His beige coat sleeves covered his wrists, but Prudence noticed his white knuckles and the tremble of his fingers.
A few of the men spotted Prudence, and immediately dipped into bows, expressing quick greetings as she meandered farther inside.
Romain looked up, scanned her face, then motioned at a vacant seat in front of him. "Prudence. Join us."
Cornelius didn't bother to say a word, but spared her a brief glance, his marblesque eyes alight with fire.
She curtsied for Romain, but as she was about to sit, he waved her over to stand by him, instead.
"I need your support," he whispered, as she placed herself next to him, her overflowing skirts concealing her shaking limbs. "We are at a bit of an impasse."
"What happened?" She set a hand on Romain's shoulder, but couldn't stop watching Cornelius' furious strides.
Cornelius smacked his hands onto the desk as he leaned forward. "Totresians. Sighted at the Giromian border, before dawn." His arms bulged, twitching in his tight-fitting ebony coat. "It is lucky I had a messenger down there, carrying news to Adelaide's father; he turned tail and hurried to me. I rode here at once."
Prudence shimmied behind Romain's chair, worried the Duke might bite her head off. She wasn't Totresian, and yet he scowled at her as if she'd summoned these bandits to her.
Bandits... oh, no. That was not Antoine, was it?
"Watch your tone." Romain's spine arched, and though he looked ready to stand and slap the Duke senseless, he remained seated. "Prudence is no longer your betrothed, and you have no authority to talk to her like that."
The Duke groaned and tipped his head back to glower at the ceiling. "Fine. But what do we do, Majesty?"
Several nobles stationed near the door to the Meeting Room grunted in agreement.
"I split up my men to monitor all openings into the country, but..." Cornelius ran a hand through his hair, shaking it out. "I am certain these intruders have already come through, Sire. They are in Giroma, and they are headed here!"
Prudence swallowed her guilt and approached her mouth to Romain's ear. "Is it not Miss Espinar? Did you not summon her as fast as possible?" She knew if she spoke aloud, her voice would break and give her away.
Romain swiveled to her. "That is what I said, but he claims they saw no women in the proceeding." He wrinkled his nose. "I have yet to receive word from King Antoine to confirm that he accepted my terms, so I cannot be sure. He would not send her before telling me, would he?"
Prudence shrugged. In truth, she had no notion what Antoine would do.
But he is on his way...
"There were two carriages. One full to the brink with trunks, according to my messenger." Cornelius huffed and faced them, hands on his hips. "Both were surrounded by a dozen mounted men in faded auburn uniforms. Auburn, Sire! Faded or not, is that not a signature Totresian color?"
"It is," Romain flipped to him, "but did you not think the vehicle with trunks was a luggage transport? Perhaps the one containing my future wife's belongings?" He tucked his loose golden curls behind his ears. "The daughter of a Viscount would warrant a special amount of escorts, no? Admit it, Cornelius—your messenger overreacted. You overreacted. You seek to start complications where there are none!"
More of the noblemen mumbled their agreement with the King.
Cornelius' cheeks ignited, as if fire burned beneath his skin. "Then why, pray tell, were they trying to sneak through a well-known unmanned entrance?" He marched up to the desk until he crashed into it. "Why would a woman expected at our court be wary of entering a country she was invited to?"
Romain steepled his fingers and pressed them to his forehead. "That, I do not know. Totresians are an odd bunch. Perhaps they worried it was a trap." He nudged Prudence. "Antoine would anticipate that, no? Untrusting as he is."
Stuck in her visions of Antoine slipping under fortifications and scaling lengthy underground tunnels, Prudence shook herself to return to the conversation.
"Perhaps, but he would have enlisted a general or a captain to bring her in legally. I doubt he would want to draw attention like so." She chewed on her lip, doubting her own knowledge of the man she'd almost married, almost shared a kingdom with.
If he is accompanying Julia, he would not need the secrecy. These brigands cannot be him.
Romain stood, and the chair's feet scraped against the floor. "In my letter to King Antoine I requested, were he to accept, that Julia come to me fast. He might have sent word of his acceptance, but we have not received it yet. In light of that, he ordered his men to sneak in, but he did not anticipate that my ever-faithful Duke," he sneered, "would be on the alert."
Cornelius cocked an eyebrow, detecting his monarch's sarcasm. "Majesty, I—"
"—it might be for the best that they are traveling clandestinely." Romain spun to the other nobles, who had gone silent. "It might be preferable for no one to take note of this subtle beginning to an alliance, because we all remember how such negotiations went for my father. How rumors broke out and enabled his demise."
Several of the men bowed their heads, grumbling apologies.
Prudence's insides did front and back flips. "Brother," she leaned closer, "what are you implying? Did these men," she side-glanced at the well-garbed gentlemen huddled in a corner, "conspire with Edouard? Did they help?"
"No," said Romain, his gaze glazed over, his nostrils flaring. "But they are part of the reason you were taken from me, with their stories. I will not let them spread more falsehoods and ruin my upcoming marriage." He scrubbed his face. "The one time I believe your ex might have done the right thing, that he might gain my respect, my men seek to convince me otherwise."
Dropping her chin to conceal the emotions scattering over her face, Prudence held her breath. Romain would read through her—he'd know she had intelligence on Antoine's plans, and that she'd kept it to herself.
"It is settled, then." Romain twisted to his men, then to Cornelius. "These intruders are my future bride and her staff. Must we debate this all day?"
Cornelius crammed a clenched fist onto the desk, rattling the candles and shuffling the papers. "There were no Totresian logos, Majesty." Romain stiffened, but his coldness didn't stop Cornelius. "I will not rest until I am positive you are correct. These are Totresian spies, traveling under false pretenses, disguising themselves as Miss Espinar's escorts, but sent by that horrid King to attack us! Because stubborn and stupid as he is, he never agreed to the union and used the opportunity to trick you!"
Fury radiated from Romain's body as he tensed at Prudence's side. "How dare you presume to give yourself instructions?" His breath was scorching hot. He rolled up his sleeves, as if preparing for a brawl.
Prudence squeezed in front of her brother to bar him from hopping over the desk to punch Cornelius. "Antoine would not do that." She flinched at saying his name out loud, but straightened up, standing up to the Duke. "I know him best. No matter what our fathers did to undermine each other, he does not plan sneaky attacks like that. Certainly not when I am here, likely to be caught in the crossfire."
Silence reigned in the wake of her words.
Have I just admitted that Antoine would not war with Giroma as long as I am its Princess?
Romain shoved her aside. "I am your King, so if I say drop the matter, then do so!" He flicked his wrist and swerved away from the desk to peer out the window. "You are dismissed, all of you."
The noblemen didn't hesitate to bow and back out; but Cornelius wouldn't concede, wouldn't budge from his spot.
"Majesty, my bride and I worry about you." He kept his gaze fixed on Romain's back and shifted his weight from left to right. "We fear no one is safe if you are wrong. Our palace—"
Romain scoffed. "Your palace is a fortress." He stayed before the window, but turned his face to the Duke. "If King Antoine were to attack, he would fail against you. But he would be foolish to try, even he knows that. Especially with a dozen guards and two carriages of junk. Be reasonable." He pinched the bridge of his nose and trudged over to his seat, falling atop its cushions. "If things go awry, your home is our security plan. But we are not at that level yet."
Cornelius tumbled into the chair across from him, defeated, dejected. "That is what I meant to say. Our palace is safest. Because we are at that level, Sire. I wish you would see it. Come with me to my fortress, both of you. Your mother, too." He side-glared at Prudence, then reverted to the King, glitter glossing over his eyes. "I implore you to consider this a threat. You are too trusting! It is why you never saw the lies beneath the surface, before your trip to Torrinni."
Everything about his demeanor suggested exaggeration, and Prudence didn't buy it.
Romain's fists collided with the desk so fast, so hard, it was as if time stopped. Not a particle of dust floated in the air, not a sound was heard, not a muscle moved until Romain's shoulders drooped and he gripped his armrests.
"You are insolent, Sir Schwartz, and I am losing patience with you. I appreciate your concern, and I will consider fleeing if this proceeding is malevolent as you claim." He blew out his cheeks. "Send my men to verify this, and keep me updated."
Cornelius got to his feet and inclined his head. "My doors are open, Majesty, do not forget it. I foresee a war on the horizon, and my home is the most secure in the land." He walked off, his absence soon dissipating the tension in the Study.
Romain slouched into his throne and moaned. "Thank you for your support."
The guilt in Prudence's gut grew. While she couldn't be sure those creeping into Giroma weren't Antoine and his men, she knew he was coming, at some point. After witnessing this chaos, the arguments, the rage, she'd made up her mind.
She concentrated on the ground, on the dents in the floor-boards, on the tips of her shoes—and exhaled.
I have no choice.
"Romain... we need to talk."
•••