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“Yes,” Juliana acknowledged.
The queen stood suddenly. She meandered to the large multipaned window and looked out. “You outdid yourself this time, Juliana,” the queen remarked. And even though she was facing away from them, her voice was crystal clear.
Juliana and Rowan shared a quick look.
Turning back to face them, the queen said, “The Navan Assembly passed a resolution today. Come October, they will put to a popular vote a referendum on independence.” She didn’t say anything after that, allowing the import of the notion permeate the air.
Juliana muffled a gasp.
Rowan grunted. Then said, “Fuuuck!”
“So, you see, while my first reaction to the semi-pornographic picture in the press was less than pleased, it turns out, the two of you might be the best way to save our union.”
Like a well-orchestrated scene, Rowan and Juliana turned their heads to meet each other’s gazes. Their expressions were equal parts surprise and dread.
Juliana pulled her attention from Rowan and asked, “How do you figure?”
The door behind them opened, but neither Juliana nor Rowan took their eyes off the queen. Liliana’s gaze shifted to the newcomer.
“He’s arrived, Your Majesty.”
She nodded at Margaret. “Send him in.”
The queen walked around the sofa to greet the newcomer, and Juliana’s and Rowan’s heads followed her like she was a tennis ball and they were spectators. When the Duke of Waverly appeared in the doorway, Juliana’s heart sank.
“Fuck,” Rowan snapped quietly.
“Is that the only word in your vocabulary?” Juliana snapped back.
“Fuck no,” he said.
She groaned.
Rowan leaned down to grab his crutches as the duke and the queen exchanged pleasantries. He pushed to his feet, and not knowing what else to do, Juliana stood also.
The duke pivoted in their direction, and his face lit up with a smile as fake as their engagement. He moved toward them, offering Rowan his hand and Juliana air kisses.
“Son, you are looking well. Seems your nurse”—he winked at Juliana—“is taking good care of you.”
Rowan cut a glance at Jules and offered a quick grin before facing his father with a stoic expression. “She is.”
“Please sit,” the duke said, waving his hand like it was his office and not her grandmother’s.
Juliana’s hackles rose. The nerve!
But Rowan remained standing, and the duke returned to stand with the queen.
Juliana was impatient for this meeting to be over, so she turned her attention back to her grandmother. “You were saying?”
The queen waved her hand, indicating they should sit. They complied, but Rowan kept his crutches clutched in his hand, like a shield.
“The duke and I were overjoyed to hear the two of you had formed an attachment.”
The duke nodded his head in agreement.
“Of course, I sent you to Nava with the hope you might suit Frederik.”
Juliana heard a rumbling growl from Rowan.
“This pairing works just as well. Maybe even better.”
Juliana considered the statement. She’d known what she was agreeing to when she volunteered to go to Nava. But now, as her grandmother complimented her on her relationship, she acknowledged all those things Ele had warned her about. She felt used. Which was ridiculous because she wanted to do something for her family. Yet her grandmother’s obvious callousness only served to make her feel like a bargaining chip. She pushed the thought aside for now because she feared she hadn’t heard the worst part yet.
“We feel the people of Nava will rejoice to know a son of Nava will be part of the royal family,” the duke said triumphantly. “And with your sister out of the line of succession, a Barrington will be second in line to the throne. It is a win-win for both provinces and we feel it will thwart the talk of independence.
Juliana had never worked so hard to maintain her calm facade. In an effort to hold on to power, the queen had forsaken two of her real grandchildren, perpetuated the lie of Juliana’s birth, and sold them all for her own gain. It still awed Juliana that because Tristan wasn’t of royal blood, Ele forfeited her place in the succession. Ele and Tristan weren’t even engaged, and the queen had moved Ele out like a pawn on a chess board. Rowan’s hand snaked between her clasped fingers and intertwined with hers. She felt the warmth of him, the strength of him, and she siphoned energy from it.
Her grandmother picked up the thread of the plan, apparently unconcerned with the verbal bombs lobbed in Rowan and Juliana’s direction. “We will announce your wedding tomorrow. It will take place in two weeks at the Cathedral. In the meantime, you will stay here. Proximity will help us coordinate plans. Rowan can move into one of the apartments in the east wing. Noah has been instructed to retrieve your items from Austin Manor. Instead of working with Millie, Margaret will be your point person for the next two weeks.”
“You have handled everything,” Juliana remarked as her brain whirled with the consequences of this plan and the possible ways out. She could do nothing but agree for now.
They would have to regroup with Jamie, Ele, and Robert. They needed to think about this from every angle.
The queen deigned to nod at her.
Juliana smiled serenely at her grandmother. “I think it’s safe to say, Rowan and I are thrilled to step up the timeline on the wedding.” She waited for Rowan to growl or scream fuck at the top of his lungs, but he seemed content to let her handle it. “But I’m afraid we can’t stay here. We have Rowan’s dogs with us at Austin Manor.”
Juliana expected an argument, and when no one said a word, she knew they had already anticipated this move. Check.
They both stood, anxious to get away from the palace and go home, where they could regroup. Juliana walked to her grandmother, but instead of the kiss on each cheek she usually bestowed, she dropped into a formal curtsy. And with a quick bow to the duke, she followed Rowan from the room.
They didn’t speak as the entered the elevator. They didn’t speak when the doors closed and the elevator returned to the main floor. They didn’t speak as Juliana led Rowan to the waiting car.
As they pulled away from the palace, Rowan said, “Is there an Altamirano bat signal?”
Juliana turned a knowing gaze his way. “Yes.”
“You’d better fucking use it.”
