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“I didn’t see any guards yesterday evening.”
He looked down at her then. “Just because you didn’t see them doesn’t mean that they weren’t there.”
Ambrose hadn’t seen Burke before he stepped up to her side that first night either. So she shouldn’t be surprised that there were others amongst the crowd.
“As for my outfit, it suits me to be able to blend in with the crowd.”
“And here I was thinking you were dressing up to offer yourself as a potential suitor.” Muscles ticked along his jaw. Her heart somersaulted in her chest. “That’s it isn’t it. You’ve come to offer yourself as a suitor tonight, haven’t you?”
Ambrose stared at the start of the scar on his neck. If anything, he had earned the right to be King after standing with them and serving them during the war.
“Do you mock me?”
Ambrose gave a little chuckle. Just as he had every right to be King, Ambrose had every right to mock him. He had been the one to deny her, not the other way around. Could this be his way of asking for forgiveness?
“I wouldn’t dare poke fun. I’m merely curious.”
He hummed as if he didn’t quite agree. “To ease my queen’s curiosity, I suppose I must answer. Should the opportunity be presented I think it is only wise for me to offer myself. My life has already been devoted to Pasia. This would be no different. ”
Over the clanging metal of marching guards, the chatter of the waiting event was beginning to surface. She wondered when her sister had said she was planning a small event if their perspective of small was much different. It had to be judging by the trickle of conversation that could already be heard.
“How very patriotic of you.”
“I wouldn’t be bidding for your hand, of course,” he rushed to say. His free hand skimmed over his chest, his fingers only stopping to fiddle with the slender tie.
“And why not?” She didn’t bother to hide her offense. She was a queen, the gold and ash crown on her head would suggest that she was the one who should be rejecting him. Not the other way around.
Really, she already knew the answer. Burke loved Ophelia. Burke had always loved Ophelia. For only the briefest moment in history, Ambrose had thought that perhaps she had been loved too. It had never been enough. It hadn’t been then and it wasn’t now.
The real question was whether or not Ophelia would accept him. How many years had she let him follow her around pining after her? Too many. She ground her teeth.
“Would you like me to bid for your hand too?”
A question for a question.
“I did not say that.”
“Then you should not take offense.”
Who was he to tell a queen what she should and should not take offense to?
Rounding the final corner, the doors to the ballroom finally came into view. Even on short notice, Ophelia spared no expense. She was the perfect party planner, the perfect host, the perfect everything. Ambrose had become a professional at living within the shade of her sister’s existence. Even if she fought tooth and nail to be better, to win these small battles with her sister, she knew when to pretend as if she didn’t mind it.
Today was another day of masking the lifelong frustration of being Ophelia’s younger sibling. Not to mention she’d been one of a few middle siblings, often forgotten or looked over as people fawned after Ophelia’s achievements and Aylee’s youth.
It had been a long time since she’d allowed herself to think about Aylee but thoughts of her younger sister were becoming increasingly present. She swore the voices sometimes whispered too, even when she was unaware of them.
Men were strolling in through the open castle gates and through the halls to reach the ballroom. A steady stream of strong capable suitors dressed to the teeth in expensive, showy attire.
Burke cleared his throat roughly before announcing their arrival. They hadn’t even reached the doors before his scratchy voice boomed over the soft lull of music. “Queen Ambrose.”
Steps faltered, suit jackets were unbuttoned, and every man present turned their attention her way. She did her best to watch them with a regal poise. The nerves of being the center of attention hadn’t worn off, she didn’t think they ever would.
Led by her ex-fiancé and flanked by her small battalion, they weaved through the crowd. Only when they’d entered the ballroom did the men right themselves one by one. Ambrose found herself counting heads, trying to guess the numbers in attendance. Men were packed into the already large room, at least they didn’t fill the castle entirely as the city of Marlux had previously.
She could only imagine the work the servants here were put through. Or maybe it was the warlocks. Magic could explain the speed at which the castle was cleaned and set back up for another much too grand party.
“Oh, my sweet sister!” Ophelia cooed. With outstretched arms, she split the crowd with ease and pulled Ambrose into a tight hug.
