Red wasn’t typical for Caroline, and she stood out in the color that had been Jaden’s suggestion. The man had a mind as keen as hers for the politics of running a kingdom, including a much-appreciated gusto that enlivened the monotony of ruling. He’d imparted that gift into her attire for tonight.
Beaded fabric wrapped the column of her neck, sweeping closely over her figure down to her hips, where sheets of gossamer scarlet draped to the floor like overlapping rose petals. The look was what Queen Cerise had tried to create for Emmy for the peace ball, but overblown. While her front was completely and demurely covered, her arms and back were exposed. The dress’s opening dipped so low on her back it was almost indecent. But that wasn’t the most shocking aspect of what they’d designed.
She’d piled coils of white hair atop her head and wove ten in-bloom scarlet roses through like a crown. Caroline eagerly anticipated the effect the red flowers would have—the rumors. Since she’d drained the Gods and subsequently the roses, stories about what had happened to the queen and the roses that were a symbol of the kingdom had swirled. Had the color drained like the light in the queen’s own soul? Was the hue the cost she paid for even greater power? Had the last Dallimore perished? Some had claimed the day the roses bleached, they’d shriveled first, then rebloomed white, signifying Caroline’s rebirth.
Tonight, she and Jaden had them dyed red. For a few hours, they’d stay that way before the dye would turn them black, the dye killing the cut flowers.
The rumble of voices inside the Great Hall hushed as her footsteps echoed from the corridor behind the main banquet table which was piled high with decadent treats and black flower crusted sculptures. Like she ordered, swaths of black glimmering fabric draped the tables and hung from the ceiling in undulating bunches giving the space an ominous feel. Even the music, if it had a color, would be black. It matched her mood perfectly.
Her heartbeat clapped loudly in her ears as it jumped erratically higher and higher. It struck her then. She didn’t want to do this. The sinking sensation that pulled her down each stair like quicksand and into the awaiting crowd, seemed to say,This is wrong.
Caroline gritted her teeth, tamping down on her traitorous heart. Angus had been right. She owed it to her people to make this impartial decision. Ruling the Joined Kingdoms took quite a bit more out of her than it had when she’d just had her own to deal with. Of course, Jaden and Angus made the burden easier, but in these early years, she liked to oversee everything as closely as possible. Having a partner, like she’d had those short months with Breicher, had felt so effortless. Surely there was a man here who could fulfill that role.
A rough hand grazed the small of her back. “Your Majesty,” a deep voice uttered. Caroline turned, heart momentarily skipping. The man standing before her with a head bowed and a glass of sparkling wine extended wasn’t Breicher. None of them were, she reminded herself. Forcing a smile, she took the glass and greeted the man behind the mask.
“Tell me of yourself, Lord Elmshorn. Why would you make a fine king?” Caroline said, racking her brain, trying to extract what she remembered about the Master of Bridgewater and the sprawling Elmshorn estate. There wasn’t much.
Only a few petitions had warranted enough elevation to come through to her from his region over the years. The local magistrates adeptly handled conflicts in Bridgewater, where Lord Elmshorn held the jurisdiction. It was a point in his favor. The rough hands which indicated he used them were another plus. But judging by the narrow red pout and flaring nostrils that poked out from his feathered fox mask, he might be a little tiresome to look at, not to mention should she need to bed him at some point.
“I’m a businessman, Your Majesty. I’ll let these other men tell you of your beauty, as I imagine you already know. If you are looking for an equal, a man who can rule beside you, all you need to do is consider at Bridgewater. My father served yours faithfully…”
She shouldn’t be tuning him out. On paper, she already understood everything he was saying. Her eyes darted through the crowd. “Yes, yes. I see your merit, Elmshorn,” she said, patting his forearm. “I will definitely consider it.”
Elmshorn took the glass, a little speechless after Caroline downed it and held it out for him. “More?” he asked, a little too hopefully. Shaking her head, Caroline turned slipping into the crowd to find something, or someone more interesting.
Another set of hands,too forward hands, gripped her shoulders and there was warm breath at her ear. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was insulted when I received the invitation, Your Majesty. Why put on this charade when you know my offer still stands?” a smooth voice whispered into her ear.
Her anxious heart guttered. For a second, she thought the possessive touch might have been him. But what would be the point of that? She’d only send him away. The last thing she needed to do was be confronted with those blue eyes which seemed to pierce her like a dagger. “Not now, Hastings. We’ve been through this.” Caroline shrugged away from Lord Hastings’ clammy touch meaning to walk away. She didn’t remember seeing the man’s name on the guest list, but Roskide’s guard knew Hastings. He probably smooth-talked them into letting him in. Once upon a time, he had been a regular fixture here.
Hastings gripped her elbow squeezing insistently and tugged her back toward him. She spun, jerking out of his grip. “Are you mad?” she asked, eyebrows pinching as she glared up at him. “Get your hands off me.” Just the feeling of another man’s hands on her made her feel the need to scrub at her skin. She steeled herself. No, she had to get used to the idea because she would be giving one of these men permission to touch her… eventually.
Wide eyes stared back at her from under the mask that covered the upper half of Hastings’ face. He gave her an uneasy laugh. “Caroline, when I heard you’d married that prince and that he’d been your guard, I didn’t know what to think. It made sense when I thought about how possessive he’d been that day and it made me sick to think of how he manipulated you—”
Caroline’s open palm was flying before she could stop it. A loud crack silenced the room and all heads turned toward her. Hastings stepped back, stunned. Damn it. She was too volatile for this. Angus and Jaden were swiftly approaching her from either side of the room.
“But Caroline,” Hastings said, rubbing at his cheek as Angus latched onto his bicep.
“Don’t worry, Your Majesty. I’ll take care of him,” Angus said, leading the man away. Caroline’s head cocked quizzically as a pained expression crossed Hastings’ features when she didn’t intervene. With a dejected slump of his shoulders, he let Angus guide him out of the room.
Jaden didn’t speak and she could almost hear his admonishment as he put his hand around her waist and led her to the outskirts of the room in the opposite direction. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said when they got out of earshot from the crowd.
A smirk flitted across Jaden’s face, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t rebuke her, or judge her. All he said was, “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”
Caroline shook her head as he rubbed her shoulders reassuringly. “But I do have to do this, Jaden. Queens must do difficult things.” It was the mantra she repeated so often to herself these days.
Jaden gave her a sorrowful nod. “Very well. Then let’s get back after it.” He led her back into the mele, releasing her once he seemed to determine she’d collected herself.
After listening to a few more pitches, and refusing a few more glasses of wine, she found what she was looking for. Jaden had warned her only men from Everstal would dare attend, but Hollis had promised her a selection of Veetula’s finest. The first favor she required of him. Initially, it appeared Jaden was right in his assessment, but standing next to Prince Hollis were six rather robust looking Veetula men. That would send a message. She sauntered over to them, letting the fabric swish with every movement of her hips.
“Prince Hollis, won’t you introduce me to your friends?” Caroline surveyed each of them. Of the six, three pairs of sapphire gazed back at her through different animal face masks. She held up her hand before Hollis answered. “Wait. You three are cousins?”
The man in the middle gave a nervous glance in Hollis’s direction. “There could be no better match for you than an Ivanslohe.”
Angry bursts popped across Caroline’s forehead, and she had to hold her hands at her sides to prevent them from squeezing her temples. “I had an Ivanslohe, Hollis. But if I recall, you were adamantly opposed to our union. Now you are offering me another one?” It was taking all her concentration not to scream. “This seems rather distasteful, even for you, don’t you think?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. She addressed the blue-eyed cousins. “Thank you for coming, but I’m afraid there are some lines I can’t cross.”
Caroline didn’t fail to note the relief relaxing the faces of the three men as they bowed and took their leave, returning to the party.
Right as the color drained from Hollis’s face, a prickle tickled up Caroline’s spine. She knew who Hollis had spotted without needing to look. Kicking herself for electing not to wear a mask, a brilliant smile would be her only outward defense to shield the warring emotions wrecking her insides. He hadn’t dared to show his face, obeying his banishment until now. The punishment was death, she’d told him, if she ever saw it again. And though Breicher had worked with Jaden, she neversawhim, so she permitted it. Besides, he was effective in getting things done.
