As she rounded the corner to her brother's office, Prudence slowed her steps. The smoke had lifted, and there was little debris leading to the Study door—a door she discovered was open.
She tiptoed to the threshold and paused, finding Antoine inside, hunched over the desk, his back to her. He'd opened the curtains, and early morning light basked him in an aura of gold.
Such an odd sight—her former lover, hated by her brother, now perusing through said brother's documents.
As she lingered in the doorway, she heard Antoine whispering to himself, reading something set up on the desk. Every whisper sent chills down her spine, reminiscent of all the secrets they'd shared in their good days together.
Unconsciously, she rested a hand on her belly. The odds had been stacked against them from birth, and so many times they'd defied the universe, the rules, and shared their love anyway. She had confirmation of it in her stomach; but also so much regret.
Would Edouard have relented, eventually, if Gregor hadn't ventured out to show her off? Or would Gregor have kept her engagement with Cornelius? She never would have met Antoine, never would have been in this mess of conflicting feelings, about to banish him from her country, for his safety.
He stood there, regal despite his dirtied suit, his riding boots stained and burnt, the edges of his frock coat frayed. His hair, though always messy, was tamed, for once. She imagined herself running her fingers through the overgrown strands and sniffing in his musk as she stared deep into his hazel eyes.
She frowned, understanding such intimacy might never occur between them again.
They hadn't chosen this. Their fathers, their mothers set up the rigged game and threw the pieces across the board without a care for their future, for what their children would be forced to deal with.
Death. Since it surrounds us.
She wiped a lone tear that drizzled from her right eye. She carried the proof of Antoine's fertility and the potential ruin of her country, but she couldn't do anything about it. As Queen regent of Giroma, she had to stay put. Her people would never accept the King of Totresia as the father of her infant.
Antoine swirled around and his eyebrows raised. He relaxed at the vision of her slouching in the door-frame. "Do you enjoy lurking about like that?" A hint of amusement peppered his tone, though he didn't smile.
She attempted a weak grin. "Apologies." She shook off all the memories that been haunting her, and jutted her chin at the paper he held. "Anything to report to me?"
He scratched the back of his neck. "A lot." He moved aside and gestured at the stack of documents on the desk. With a heavy sigh, he dropped into one of the seats. "Your brother had much going on that he did not share." He waved the paper, beckoning her over.
Prudence hesitated, stuck envisioning her mother standing near him, drinking from her poisoned goblet, with Sarah's shadow towering behind her. Her gaze lowered to the floor, inches from Antoine's feet, where she identified a deep stain that had never been there before.
There will be time to mourn later.
She crept up to Antoine and took the parchment from him. Most of its contents were too obscure and complicated for her, but she recognized it as a letter from someone in Cornelius' staff, thanks to the Terter coat of arms imprinted at the bottom.
"A message to Romain. It speaks of Terter's business dealings... with France?" She squinted at the words. "The city of Avignon pops up many times, I see." She read fast, absorbing all she could. "Oh, such horrid grammatical errors, who wrote this?" She snickered as she looked up. "So... according to this, Cornelius' family has been in cahoots with Avignon... with Adelaide's father... for years? How... what does that mean?" She collapsed into the chair across from Antoine, his presence soothing her earlier distress.
He took the note from her. "It means either Romain knew of these deals and condoned them, or he had set someone to spy on the Duke out of fury. He might have recently found out about this and retained this evidence as blackmail. I would lean towards the latter."
Prudence sneered. "Romain, monitoring Cornelius. What a hypocrite! Do you think Cornelius was aware of this potential extortion?"
Antoine put the document down and grabbed another, that he extended to her. "I suggested that he was not that smart, but now I fear I was wrong. Look at this."
She groaned as she read. "Joining us... our countries should be allies... the current King does not see it yet... forgive the secrecy... what?" She glared at the note as if it had offended her. "So he was operating in secret, behind Romain's back!" Pressing into the cushions, she puffed out a few exasperated breaths. "And he knew Romain knew, he had to. That would be one reason to ambush him."
Antoine nodded. "A potential set up, too. Cornelius being negligent with his paperwork and dealings, on purpose. But what he does not realize is his flames did not reach this area. They did not burn Romain's documents, which means Cornelius either made fateful errors, or he assumed Romain kept the blackmail on his person or elsewhere. In another room, a place no one would think to look."
Prudence gasped and sat up straight. "Mother's Study!" Antoine snapped his fingers, and she scrunched her eyebrows. "So Mother was aware of Cornelius' shady trades with France? She and Romain kept this secret and still wanted me to marry him?"
He shrugged, depositing the paper on the desk. "Or they wanted you to wed him because they needed a new spy. Someone reliable, with deeper access into his affairs. A wife. As they had to keep up the pretense, they made you believe they trusted him when they did not."
"Heavens." The formulations hit her like a stone wall. "Romain told me he never liked Cornelius, but his actions made me think otherwise." She swallowed, her saliva like sandpaper on the linings of her throat. "Mother was less charmed by him, but Romain..."
Antoine reached out, as if about to touch her knee; but he stopped halfway and winced. "Both were bad actors, it seems. But Cornelius is skilled, and always in the loop. He must have had his own informant here."
She jammed a bunched fist to her mouth. "Sarah." She almost bit her hand, but worried she'd draw blood and stain her teeth. "I told you! She worked for him, fed him intelligence on Mother, on me, and had access to Romain, too."
With a disheartened chortle, Antoine snuck another message into her grip. "Oh, that she did."
Dearest,
I cannot come to you tonight. Her Highness is ill. Must keep watch, stay in my room. Your mother's orders.
Soon, perhaps? Meet at the usual spot?
Sa.
Prudence couldn't move.
"Was that her? Sa... for Sarah? Some coded abbreviation?" Antoine's voice was muffled, as if Prudence's head was underwater.
"He did seem fond of her," she said, biting her lip so hard she tasted the metallic flavor she hadn't wanted to imprint on her tongue. "She was often nearby when I saw him. So Sarah was my brother's lover?" She'd never imagined her brother with such low standards; he who'd criticized her for being Antoine's mistress and for getting pregnant out of wedlock. when he'd slept with the enemy too. But without knowing it. "Again, what a hypocrite! I hate him!"
"Do not say that." Antoine didn't stop himself from making contact, this time, and gently cupped her knee, squeezing as if his touch radiated a healing energy into her. "I blamed Father and hated him, too, but it does no good to be angry with the dead. Yes, Romain made mistakes and should have let you in on his intentions, but this," he shook the letter, "can help incriminate Schwartz and Sarah. This is proof of a conspiracy against your brother. Be mad later, because this is huge."
Prudence recalled the proof she had recovered. "I have more reasons to be mad." She extracted the papers from her bodice, and handed them to Antoine. "Read the one from my father, first."
"Ah, King Gregor." Antoine cleared his throat, and motioned at other parchments on the desk. "Check out these others while I read."
She seized the note nearest her and scanned it, and gagged at its revelation of the Lord of Avignon begging Romain for a Franco-Giromian alliance. He requested that Romain side with Napoléon's bids to conquer Europe, using pretty prose and polite well wishes. And the pièce de résistance shocked her to the core.
"I offer you my daughter, Adelaide—she is the same age as you, Majesty, hair kissed by fire, eyes bluer than the sky. An absolute beauty. She would make a fine Giromian Queen. An alliance beneficial to all of Giroma, France, and soon—Europe. And then we can take on Totresia together—"
The letter was dated the summer of Antoine and Prudence's eighteenth year. The same year Edouard had proposed a season for the Crown Prince, urged on by Clémentine, who'd insisted on ensuring Adelaide become the choice for Totresian Queen.
"That vulture petitioned Romain before you?" Prudence's lungs tightened as she shot up from her cushions.
Antoine, halfway through a sentence, peered up at her. "I was not her first option." He also stood and thrust another letter into her grasp. "But read this and see your outrage worsen."
She scanned the new document, and sure enough, every muscle compressed and heated and her veins loaded with lava.
To Whom It May Concern,
Let it be known that I, King Romain of Giroma, in the absence of an heir by the time I turn twenty-three, declare His Grace, Duke Cornelius Schwarz of Terter, as my sole heir and regent should anything happen to me or any of my bloodline. With my sister long dead, and my mother not fit to reign in my stead anymore, I ask that you consider this option—though I do hope to marry and produce an heir before that time.
Signatures:
This date was recent—Romain was twenty. Some nobles had already scribbled their names below, but no royal coat of arms or trace of Romain's final signature showed. The document wasn't yet legal or confirmed.
This cannot be real.
To her dismay, in the bottom right corner, she detected a seal she hated to recognize as Cornelius'. "He... he was going to..." Her legs were too weak to hold her up, and she tumbled back into her seat. "Him? He would have made Terter his regent? Instead of... his cousin, his blood, living in Spestein?" Her insides liquefied, threatening to spill from her mouth.
"I warned you," said Antoine, finishing up Gregor's message. "He needed a better advisor. Did he even have one?"
Prudence sniffled. "I have no clue. He was so private. Cornelius was his closest counselor, and regardless of the resentment between them, Romain listened to him. Mother must not have been privy to this," she nudged the letter, "else it would have outraged her, too.
Heavy footfalls echoed from the hallway, startling her to her feet, and prompting Antoine to jolt towards the door.
Sébastien and Céleste broke in, their expressions clouded with worry
"Your mother," started Céleste, hunching over to catch her breath, "knew much more than she claimed."
Sébastien rubbed her back, though he also panted, his cheeks flaring with red. "We have much to talk about. Giromian affairs... and Totresian ones."
•••