“The palace’s master gardener has a green thumb unlike any before him.” Marion pauses to pop a grape into her mouth. “The gardens and conservatory are on our tour. You’ll just die when you see—”
“Lady Highgate, Lady Ashwood.” McDougall’s voice rings out over the din of preparations. “The dining room is not yet prepared for guests, as I’m sure my lady understands,” he scolds, his sternness not quite reaching the amused twinkle in his eyes.
“McDougall, you yourself said Lady Ashwood desired a tour. What kind of tour guide would I be if I left out our palace’s beautiful dining room? Besides, watching you conduct the preparations for the feast is a sport all on its own. You should charge admission.” Marion hides her mischievous smile behind another bite of pear.
“Lady Highgate, you never fail to lift my spirits.” With a gentle though firm shooing motion that stirs the white wisps on top of his head, McDougall ushers us back toward the entrance. “I am sure Lady Ashwood would much rather gaze upon King Lockhart’s most recent portrait or the lovely tulip garden than my rushing around like a startled hen.” His mock scowl melts into a smile as we pass through the threshold of the doors.
Marion’s laughter is infectious as we rush down the hall, passing the crystal bottle between us. “I would say he’s more like a chick than a hen with that fluff on topof his head.” She chuckles when we’re far enough away not to be overheard.
“Or a dandelion,” I add, giggling uncontrollably as I take a long pull of velvety-rich blackberry wine.
We round a corner and jerk to a stop at the sight of an imposing man. Luckily, most of the wine is gone and none sloshes on the floor. Our laughter fades, and I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth, trying to compose myself as Marion stiffens beside me.
“My lord.” Her voice is tight, her curtsy brittle and tense under his cold gaze.
“Lady Highgate.” He scowls, his voice heavy with disapproval. “I heard you making your way down the hall long before I saw you.” The light seems to dim around him, his long, thin shadow merging with his dark expression.
“I shall endeavor to be better and control my volume,” Marion says, her bold, strong tone twisted into a submissive whisper.
His small, hooded eyes pierce Marion as he glares down at her. “I expect you to resist your inner feminine urges and not conduct yourself in such a hoydenish manner. You are but a woman, and thus you are susceptible to trivial pursuits and fanciful notions. However, play is for the schoolyard, not for a female of your station.”
Fueled by a sudden rush of protective anger I’m obviously better at accessing for others than I am for myself, I step squarely between Marion and this man who feels like he should dim her glow. “Laughter and joy aren’t dictated by age or sex,my lord. You should really try smiling. It’ll do wonders and make you so much more attractive.”
He stares down at me, and I glower right back up at him. I don’t normally look for a fight, and maybe it’s because my world has been tossed upside down, or maybe I’m searching for any kind of release, but there’s a small part of me that wishes this man would give me a reason to let go.
For a heartbeat, the corridor is utterly silent. Every inch of me tenses, coils, waits. And then his brows lift, a hairline crack in his mask of perpetual disapproval. From the corner of my eye, I spot Marion’s shoulders shake, her mouth tight and pursed.
His gaze begins to shift over to her, and I clear my throat. “If that is all, my lord.” My smile is warm honey on soft baked biscuits, fluid and treacly, and I hope he feels every bit of my insincerity as I dip into my most graceful curtsy.
His bow is slight, practically nonexistent, before he steps around me and thunders down the hall like a storm cloud.
Marion lifts onto her toes and lets out a gasp. “You’re the first I’ve ever heard speak that way to Highgate.”
Her words sink in, and I’m momentarily frozen, realization slackening my jaw and making me blink like I’m buffering. “Highgate…as inLord Highgate…your husband?”
Curls bounce lightly against her forehead as she nods.
I clap my hand over my mouth. I should have known that I would immediately screw up the first friendship that I’ve made since college. “I am so sorry.”
“You have no reason to be.” She loops her arm around mine, pulling me closer and handing me the bottle of decanted wine as we head down the hall. “Mydear husband is an ass. He’s all bark and little-to-no bite. Honestly, I think putting me in my place during the day makes him feel that much better about being completely dominated at night. If you know what I mean.”
A snort of laughter escapes me. “Not firsthand, but I get it.”
Marion’s giggle blends in with the rustling of our skirts as she guides me through a set of doors to our next destination.
This is my first trip to a palace, but I visit the Art Institute of Chicago when they offer free admission, so I know a portrait gallery when I see one. Unlike the bold, rich wall colors within the museum, these walls are painted a muted gold. Soft natural light filters in through tall windows, bathing the ornately gilded frames encasing portraits of stern monarchs and radiant queens that line the long, expansive corridor.
“This will sound strange, but I feel as though we’ve met before. As if we’re picking up where we left off,” Marion says, her gaze drifting along the portraits.
Our new friendship feels as if it’s been years in the making rather than hours, and I wish I could tell her that I do know her, or at least someone very much like her, in another life. My life.
But, no matter how kind Marion is and how much I’m drawn to her, I won’t make the mistake of thinking I can trust her. According to Kane, I can’t trust anyone within the kingdom. This is one time I will listen to him without question.
“In another life, perhaps.” She sighs a soft echo that brushes down the hallway.
“Or another realm.” I’m not joking, but I disguise the admission with a chuckle.
“Another realm?” She laughs. “My gods, I haven’t heard mention of other realms since I was a child and my governess would tell me fantastical tales of the great Tower.” Her cheeks plump, and her brows lift in a way that I’m learning means she has more to say. “Come, let me show you something.”
