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‘Let me be the first to draw blood, then, Theo,’ she hissed in a voice audible only to him.
‘No, Sofia. You did that years ago,’ he said darkly, his deft tongue sweeping at the thin trace of crimson on his lip, before a mask descended over his features and he turned to the gathering in the ballroom with a broad smile.
As Iondorra’s leading figures lined up to pass on their congratulations to the happy couple Sofia and Theo continued their quiet lines of attack in under-the-breath sentences.
‘I thought I was supposed to be the one who was fashionably late,’ she whispered.
‘Fashion doesn’t have to be gender specific.’
‘Your ego is impossible.’ Sofia broke off to welcome the Minister of Trade and Industry. ‘Eugene, lovely to see you.’
‘Your Highness, felicitations.’ She nodded her acceptance. As her father’s trusted advisor trailed off and they waited for the next, Theo took up their conversation.
‘It has serviced me well over the years.’
‘It’s not the only thing that serviced you,’ she bit out darkly.
‘Come, now, Sofia, jealousy doesn’t suit you.’ Before she could respond, he pressed on. ‘You look ravishing as always,’ he said, turning to take her in fully.
‘That’s what happens when the dress you wear to your engagement party is picked by the privy council after three rounds of rigorous polling.’
‘You would have chosen something different?’
‘Why?’
‘I’d like to know what façade I’m going to get. At least if you had chosen your own it would allow me to draw some conclusion about you.’
‘Why do you want to draw a conclusion about me? Surely I’m only here to increase your wine sales,’ she hissed as she turned to meet the next guest. ‘Lord Chancellor,’ Sofia said as she extended a hand to meet the last and final man in the greeting line.
Introductions over and done, they both turned to face the large ballroom. As they stood side by side, it could have been forgiven to see them as the happy couple looking over their guests.
‘Your governance is modelled on the British system.’
Sofia shrugged a nonchalant shoulder. ‘It worked for them.’
Theo inclined his head in agreement.
Sofia drew a deep breath, reluctantly steeling herself. ‘It’s time to see the king.’
She felt rather than saw Theo sweep his gaze across the crowded room. ‘He’s talking to someone—let’s have a drink.’
Sofia pressed down on her panic. Her father had been here for fifteen minutes already and she didn’t know how long he’d be able to continue before an episode began.
‘Theo, please.’ Whether it was the tone in her voice, or the fact her small hand had reached out to his, punctuating the request with a slight trace of desperation, she didn’t know, but a low lean of his head gave his agreement.
Her mother met their approach with something like the same relief that Sofia felt. The moment this was done, protocol was met, her mother and father could return to the privacy of their suites.
‘Your Majesty,’ Sofia called to her father, instantly checking his eyes for signs of clarity or confusion, ready to whisk Theo away should the latter be the case. Her father took in the sight of her, assessment shining in his eyes. It gave nothing else away.
‘Mother,’ she said, pressing a kiss to each of her delicate cheeks.
‘Father, may I present Theo Tersi,’ she said, stepping slightly to the side, and suddenly overwhelmed with the fear that Theo would do or say something wrong.
‘Your Majesty,’ Theo said with a bow from his lean neck, drawing to his full height as each man assessed the other.
Her father cut her a glance, one that took her immediately back to ten years before. Anger, a slight trace of confusion, marred the older man’s frowning brow. Sofia bit back a curse. They had waited too long.
‘I told you,’ he growled, ‘that you could not...’ He trailed off for just a moment, giving her the only opening she knew she’d get. She remembered those words, too, from that night all those years ago. Was that where her father was in his mind? She forced a smile to her face, hoping that if she and her mother could maintain the farce, they might just get through this.
