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“My goodness,” she said mildly. “Have I already run afoul of the palace guard?”
“The palace guard would be armed, madam,” said the one in the middle, with a bristling mustache. “We are His Majesty’s private secretarial staff.”
“Thank you,” she murmured sweetly. “But I don’t need any dictation at present.”
And the three of them managed to look as if they might have swooned from horror, died from it and been resurrected, all without actually moving a muscle.
“We are here to see to your education, Lady Calista,” intoned the mustache. “You will be married to His Majesty in only a matter of weeks. And unless I’m mistaken, you know very little indeed about palace life, royal etiquette, or any number of other things that will fall under your purview as queen and consort.”
“Funnily enough,” Calista said, glaring straight back at him, “the job was sold to me as a pretty simple one. Make an heir and go about my business. And as far as I’m aware, the making of heirs, even royal ones, doesn’t involve a crowd.”
But the mustache only smiled.
Pityingly.
And that was how, a week later, Calista found herself actually looking forward to the first of the December holiday balls.
Her parents had practically had to throw her in the car and drag her to the palace before, but now she was already here in the palace. And she was so sick and tired of being followed around by the Trinity of Doom that she’d claimed she needed significantly more time to get ready than she actually did, and more, had actually taken that time. Because it turned out that the only thing better than a week at the spa—something she’d dreamed about but never done—was taking advantage of all palace life had to offer when it came to preparing for grand occasions.
A lovely, lengthy massage until the shoulders that were usually in her ears felt like butter. Her hair styled theatrically and her makeup applied just so. And a set of attendants to help her into a sumptuous gown that made her look like she belonged in a Disney movie.
It was almost enough to lull her into a false sense of security and well-being. It was almost enough to make her imagine this all might be real...
Almost.
She waited for Orion the way she always did, in that private salon of his that was now down the long hall instead of across town. She stood where she usually did, though it felt oddly intimate that she’d simply...walked here. Without a wrap, as she hadn’t gone outside. She knew that the palace was a huge, sprawling complex, and yet the fact they now shared a roof seemed to lodge beneath her skin like its own pop of heat.
Don’t be ridiculous, she chided herself.
But when Orion entered the room, at last, in all his kingly splendor, their eyes seemed to meet as if tugged together by magnetic forces. And then they held.
Calista told herself that she needed to hold on to her panic and fury about what was happening. That if she didn’t, she would have no choice but to let go and lose herself in all that grave hazel.
“I’m told you’re making progress,” he said after the moment had long since turned awkward, and that made it easier.
“How patronizing.” She scowled at him. “I didn’t realize that I was a remedial case. Or that progress reports were being issued.”
But he didn’t take the bait. He never took the bait.
“I feel certain that my secretaries impressed upon you that there was much you need to learn in a short period of time, Calista. And you cannot truly be surprised that they have let me know how the process has been unfolding, can you?”
That he sounded perfectly reasonable only made it worse. It made her want to hunker down and feed the fury in her whatever it needed to explode.
“I have learned many important things, Your Majesty.”
Her voice was clipped and not exactly polite, and she decided on the spot that she would rather die than tell Orion that she’d enjoyed much of it. Not the endless corrections, but the scope of a queen’s role—and all of it to be performed with grace and wit.
Assuming such attributes are at your disposal, the mustache had sniffed.
If she’d been planning to remain his queen, she might have found it a challenge in the best way to rise to the levels expected of the king’s consort. The deft ability to influence ministers without appearing to do so. The political machinations hidden behind an easy smile. She would have loved getting to do those things—
But she wasn’t going to be queen.
And she could be just as patronizing as he was. “I have heard a great many lectures on state dinners, for example. I have been informed that I must learn a certain fluency in the language of flowers, which is apparently very important, even though I have the blackest thumb imaginable. I have been forced to attempt every possible iteration of a curtsy, which should really be its own workout craze.Royal Squats and Noble Lungeshas a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? I have spent untold hours dissecting where, how, and to whom I may or may not incline my neck. All of this has been riveting.” There was a gleam in his hazel eyes that made that fury inside her seem to melt. And caramelize. “Absolutely riveting.”
“Yes, well. Not everything can be as exciting as prying into the personal lives of strangers with an eye to ripping their lives apart. It will no doubt be an adjustment.”
Was it her imagination or was Orion rather more testy than usual tonight? Edgy, she might have said. If he was someone else.
