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“Don’t bother. You may be dismissed.”
“Have a good evening, Queen Ambrose.” He gave another bow and headed for the door.
His formality was expected but unnecessary. Her hand rose for a small wave, the tease of a smile forming. “Have a good evening, Bee.” She hadn’t used the nickname in so long it felt foreign to her tongue.
“Ro.” Finally, a flash of his beautiful smile made his features appear less rugged and ruthless. Nostalgia for her returned nickname made the frustration that had taken seed in her chest relax, if only minimally.
He’d always been fond of Ophelia, if anything he’d followed her with blind faith. Ambrose had struck up a friendship with him, warned him of her sister’s more devious side, but it hadn’t stopped him. It made sense that he’d stayed with her instead of following another queen or retiring to the countryside, even if it had stung Ambrose so deeply. Ophelia was likely still leading him on.
The door clicked shut.
A lock ticked into place.
Ambrose froze. She closed the space between her in the exit, trying the door. It didn’t open. The tingling sensation of numbness raced down her legs.
So this is what they were doing. Ambrose had hoped it wasn’t so but she should have guessed it sooner.
Games. Ophelia loved them.
Because Ophelia loved to win.
Ambrose set her staff to lean against the wall. For the first time in a long time, she ignored the whispers in her head that hissed in disapproval, set her jaw, and prepared to play.
Ace
Even at a distance, Ambrose’s castle looked different. It felt right to Ace because Ambrose herself had alwaysbeen different.
Her castle had been built upon an old farm that overlooked the small town. Tall silos were reconstructed into towers. The structure of an old gray—it had probably originally been white—barn had been added onto. Vines grew up the length of the stained wooden boards all the way up to the stone that rose above it.
Even before they’d reached the gates Ace could feel the spark of familiarity. It reminded her of home. Of the small farm she’d grown up on.
Maybe Ambrose was as homesick as Ace had been on her worst days. Again, it felt fitting for her sister to reside here. She’d always been the one with the green thumb and the luck for growing things. It could be that she’d been born with it or their mother had passed it down to her while working in the gardens. Either was likely.
“Would you quit pressing your face to the glass like that. You’ll freak someone out if they get a good look at you,” Shelby said.
His long legs stretched across the middle of the carriage, brushing against Rehan’s seat. Arms crossed over his chest and head resting on the back of the carriage, Shelby watched Ace with clear disdain. Rehan shifted, his body angled so that Shelby’s feet could not bother him. Ace doubted Rehan liked sitting to accommodate for Shelby’s lack of general respect. Rehan was probably far too polite to say anything though.
Ace moved away from the window. The glass was fogged with her unashamed breath, outlining where the tip of her nose had touched. She pressed herself into her seat, forcing her hands between her thighs to keep them from the jitters that wracked her body.
She sent Shelby a dark glare. “Who peed in your oatmeal?”
His response was a lifted brow. As if to point the imaginary finger back at her. However, his eyes drifted back to Rehan who studied them both quietly. He watched with clear amusement and general curiosity. His expression was a far cry from Shelby’s broody eyebrows and storm cloud eyes.
“I’ve instructed the driver to park us in the alley behind Stewart’s Bar. From there it’s only a small walk to the castle.” Rehan always seemed apt to fill the silence when it began to stretch.
Sometimes Ace missed the silence.
She gave him a nod. Her heels tapped against the floor, legs bouncing with anticipation. She couldn’t quit moving. Twitching.
“Stop.” Shelby’s palm closed around Ace’s knee, pressing her leg down to keep it from bouncing. The pressure of his touch sent a sweeping wave of fire over her skin. Her legs stilled.
“I can feel you bouncing the entire carriage. Relax.” His following look was knowing and stern.
The red kiss of a blush was quickly staining Ace’s cheeks. Shelby’s eyes softened as he pulled his hand away and wiggled himself back down in his seat.
“Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?” Rehan cleared his throat. The carriage rocked, the sound of pebbles being ground under the wheels telling of the alley they’d just turned into.
“No, I’m okay.” Ace forced a smile as she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at Shelby like a child.
