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36
20 March
Shuffington Palace
Juliana must have driven for a couple of hours. The southern regional border of Armenta and Nava provided winding roads and breathtaking views. She had to concentrate on driving. On the carved switchbacks and the mountainous terrain. On shifting gears and the setting sun.
Her mind drifted in a seamless loop of overheard snatches of conversations and Jamie’s story, of her grandmama’s explanation to her, of her own insecurities and fears. Hearing about her birth had helped her understand the queen’s motives for this upcoming, quickly arranged marriage. It was the greatest power play.
Unlike Ele, Juliana thought of Liliana as Grandmama first and the queen second. Having lived with her since she was ten, Juliana had always had a unique relationship with her. She’d been raised differently than the twins, which added the layer of divide between them that Juliana always lamented. Now, with the information, things shifted into place like the tectonic plates of the earth moving together. And everyone knew what followed. A splitting of the land, a breaking open, a yawning gap. Rumblings, earthquakes, aftershocks, and an eerie resettling with perhaps a different terrain.
A marriage between Juliana and Rowan would combine the two most powerful families in the kingdom. But the union would be a danger for Juliana’s three siblings. Barrington and the queen wanted to cement control, and they couldn’t do that with Jamie, Ele, and Robert in the mix. Their lives were in her hands. She knew it. Jamie knew it. Rowan would know it once she told him what she’d learned. What an absolute wankfest.
The queen had been planning this for a long time. And Juliana had stumbled right into her trap. Of course, Juliana would want to protect Ele. Of course, she would offer to step in when the alliance had crumbled. Juliana had wanted Ele to be free to do what she needed to do, and the queen had known, had foreseen, Juliana’s headlong tumble into this mess. That it was Rowan instead of Frederik though, well, that was the wild card in all of this. They had to know they wouldn’t be able to control Rowan.
Unless they had something or someone Rowan would do anything to protect.
Bullocks! She banged her fist on the steering wheel, swearing as everything coalesced.
She would bet her car that Barrington would use Jalissa to get Rowan to do what Barrington wanted him to do. And what about Violet? Barrington was savvy enough to have followed Rowan’s relationship with Violet as it grew. She would be another pawn in the game.
Juliana’s palms grew sweaty on the wheel as she thought of the ways Barrington could control Rowan. Try as she might, Juliana couldn’t feel any sympathy for Jalissa. She’d made her bed a long time ago, and she appeared to always choose the duke over Rowan, so let the chips fall where they may. Unfortunately, Rowan would do whatever he could to protect his mother. It would be an issue. But using Violet? Juliana had a problem with that. In just a few short weeks, Violet had become part of Juliana’s family. And while Rowan would never admit it, she knew he loved the girl. So, much like Juliana, Rowan’s vulnerability lay in the people he loved. Oh, the irony of that.
The question was, how far ahead were the queen and Barrington? Had they already begun to take precautions? More importantly, had they already made their move to get Violet?
Without consciously forming the thought, Juliana turned the car in the direction of the palace. Maybe she could preempt the queen, distract her from making her next play. The queen had wanted her at Shuffington Palace for a reason.
Before she knew it, Juliana was parking at the palace. Once she secured her car in the garage, she entered the palace at the back, where her suite was. When she arrived at the door, she noticed Noah waiting for her. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“It’s brilliant you’re here,” she said as she opened the doors and walked into her rooms.
Noah followed and closed the doors behind them.
“Did Robert send you here?”
Noah looked at her curiously. “Why would Robert?”
“Oh”—she waved an impatient hand—“I mean, Will.” She continued moving toward her wardrobe. “I need to change. Can you call Margaret and arrange to have me see the queen as soon as possible?” Juliana moved quickly through the hall. “Give me five.”
She didn’t wait for his answer, knowing he wouldn’t need to respond or even inquire about her haste. He would arrange the meeting. She made for the washroom first. With expediency, she cleaned her face, applied makeup, and fixed her wild hair.
Satisfied with the transformation from Juliana to Princess Juliana as appearances were important to the queen. Juliana paused, needing to get this right. She glanced down at the slacks she wore earlier. She knew the queen would appreciate a dress. She was old school in her thoughts of what constituted proper clothing. As much as she dreaded it, Juliana made for the “royal” section of her wardrobe. With resignation, she grabbed a pink dress with a high collar; puffy, short sleeves; and buttons down the front. The thick belt cinched her waist, and the skirt flared down to just below her knees. She stepped into beige heels and fastened the dainty straps at her ankles.
With one last look in the mirror, she took a deep breath and left her room.
Noah waited for her in the sitting room. He stood stiffly, but Juliana hardly noticed.
“Is she ready for me?” Juliana asked. Somehow, she knew the queen would want to see her.
“She is.”
“Perfect.” Juliana started for the door with Noah on her heels. When she noticed him following her, she glanced over her shoulder. “You can wait here.”
“No, I can’t,” he replied.
Juliana pulled up short and whipped around to face him. Noah had been with her since New York. She paid for his services from her own accounts. But the tone of his voice, his appearance here, something about it was off.
“I beg your pardon.” Her eyes shot daggers at him, and before he spoke again, she knew he had been compromised.
He was on the other side, and she realized she might have miscalculated the stakes of the game. They were on the second round, and she had just stepped into the ring.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he said, his gaze looking beyond her. Coward. “I am to escort you to the queen.”
The betrayal was sharp, but she’d be damned if she let him see her disappointment.
“I see.” She turned away from him.
When his hand landed on her, she almost—almost—rammed her elbow up into his sternum to rob him of his breath. He’d taught her how to disable a person with one blow. But again, she sensed capitulation would be a better play now. So, she allowed him to latch on to her.
Then, with a flippancy she didn’t feel, she said, “Lead on.”
