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The queen saves him by returning with two punches. She offers me one, which I refuse.
“I insist,” she says.
“Certainly,” I hold the beverage with no intention of drinking.
“Ivosen,” the queen says, smiling politely.
He spreads his arms. “Little Chloe,” he says, voice raised, yet not shouting. It’s enough to garner attention as he greets his sister-in-law. He makes it appear as if he has the queen’s favor and possibly her ear.
Claudette turns a shade of red, and the queen frowns, telling me this isn’t how they normally greet each other. Even if it were, this is far too casual.
I walk into his embrace and tap him on the back. “Ivosen. It’s been a long time,” I say. The queen is not a tool to use to climb ranks, which is precisely what he did when he married her to the late prince.
I step back and, with my back turned away from the people, I say, “Greet her as you would a queen.”
“She’s my sister-in-law. I practically raised her.”
“I don’t care.” I step aside and await.
For a moment, he glares at me, but he must see something on my face (likely the effort I’m expending not to break his kneecaps) because he bows. The queen offers her hand, after which she hugs him, narrowing her eyes at me.
I roll mine.
She’s far too nice. These people will take advantage of her. I hope her sister takes better care of her. And this dickhead better keep her on the throne.
The trio move aside, and the queen stands next to me and chats near me, so I’m more relaxed now that I have her away from everyone. Still, I watch the crowd while holding the punch. The queen scoots toward me, pressing against my side. A small hand slides down my arm, and she grips my pinky finger and gives it a tug.
I glance down at her, and she looks up at me at the same time. I’m unsure what she sees, but I see she’s struggling to say something.
I bend and whisper in her ear, “Dismiss your family from our circle and tell me what you want to tell me.”
She nods, but doesn’t dismiss them, choosing to excuse us instead. She moves toward the side. “People are asking me if we’re continuing with the season or if we’re in mourning. I don’t know what to say.”
“We can decide later. For now, tell them that whoever is here should remain until dismissed.”
“I can’t say that.”
“You can.”
She bites her lip. “I received an offer.”
“What kind of—” I press my lips shut. “The young male who spoke with you. He wants to court you.”
“His name is Kostya, and I know him. He’s a highborn who used to spend summers in the village. He’s nice, always kind to me.”
I sweep the throne room, seeking him out. Sure enough, he’s watching us, and I nod, acknowledging his interest. He’s younger than I, handsome enough, and looks like a pleasant fellow. She described him as kind.
“Let me ask around about him,” I say.
“That’s it?”
I nod. “That’s it.”
“It’s the mating season, D’Artaron.”
“I’m aware.”
“I wish to mate. When you left my chambers, you said you’d make exceptions for me. I understood wrong.”
