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Chapter Eighteen
Kent
Morning broke rainy and gray. I woke from a restless night’s sleep to Raven’s hushed voice in the sitting room. I could hear them through the cracked chamber door.
“No, he hasn’t woken yet.”
The person with him outside said something in agitated tones.
“Yes, I am aware of the time. I would think he needs rest more than primping before the challenge.”
The female objected, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“Then it is a good thing I am his assistant and not you. If you would excuse me.” Raven closed the door to the corridor with more force than necessary and strode into the bedroom with agitated vigor. Muttering under his breath, he stalked over to the wardrobe and started digging inside.
Rolling over, I contemplated rousing. “How long before I am required to appear?”
Without extracting his head from the wardrobe, Raven replied. “A half hour and apparently the dress code is the peak of court dress.” He pulled forth a heavily embroidered coat edged in braid and so stiff that I would have to fight the coat to move.
“And if I refuse?” I asked.
Raven paused halfway across the room and met my gaze. “Who am I to object? I assume you plan on wearing something else instead.”
My intention must’ve been clear in my expression. “I have every intention of scandalizing the court with my lack of decoration. Fetch out the gear in which I arrived.”
“With pleasure.”
From the depths of that wardrobe, he produced my plain tunic, jerkin, trousers, and travel-worn boots. Not one piece contained embroidery, trimming, or adornment. Simple, practical, and more than adequate for whatever I would face in the challenge ahead. With that in mind, I rose and prepared for the day with more pleasure than I had in a long time.
Once I was prepared, clean and presentable by my own standards, I paused before the mirror to check my neckline.
“Your mother wishes for an audience,” Raven said as he joined me in the reflection. “Something about a final blessing.”
“Why so formal?”
Raven grimaced slightly. “Best get used to it, sire. I doubt even you will change that aspect of the court. Nor would I recommend it. Formality is a buffer between the king and his inner circle and the rest of the court. It serves a very practical purpose.”
“I suppose you are right.” The thought of unknown court fae cornering Rue and pressing her to support their agenda made my skin crawl. “Where does my mother wish to speak with me?”
“She is waiting in the sitting room outside your chamber.”
Rotating my shoulders in the generous confines of my familiar clothing, I glanced at Raven one more time. “Do you think I could start a new fashion trend toward practical clothing?”
“If you become king, I suspect your clothing choices alone will cause quite a stir and a following, especially when they realize how comfortable they are.”
“I hope so.” I had no intention of going back to the impractical standard my father had set.
Leaving Raven to clear away the mess from my morning preparations, I exited my chamber fully expecting to find my mother waiting comfortably seated on one of the many lounges that were arranged around the sitting room.
Instead, she stood within the alcove window on the far side of the room, gazing out at the gardens beyond with her back to me.
“Mother?”
She partially turned to face me before motioning for me to join her.
Puzzled, I approached slowly. Only when I stood next to her, did she look up. Her magic, renewed to levels I had never known her to have, flared into full strength around me. The form was an unfamiliar anti-eavesdropping spell that muffled all ambient sound. Raven’s movements in the next room and the ticking of the clock on the side table silenced.
“Have you spoken to Rue this morning?” Mother asked.
