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CHAPTER 19
My eyes dropped to my hands again, checking once more to see if I had overlooked any spots of blood on them. After a quick inspection, I glanced again at the wide-open golden doors, hoping Alrick would walk through them.
Where was he? Had the monks lied to me?
Wimfred, who was standing behind me, cleared his throat to pull me out of my dark thoughts.
“There you two are,” King Louis said to his daughter and Yutrik as the two returned to the gathering surrounding me in the glamorous ball room. Only the highest of ranks were in the circle close to me, among them King Algar, King Louis, His Holiness, and Gunther. Several kings from the East and their wives were there as well, elegantly sipping on wine as they chattered about hunting estates and the newest fashion. Why King Algar had to be so close to me was something I had tried to correct twice by slowly moving toward other kings and queens to join their conversations, but the dog seemed to be following me—to provoke me, I suspected. Which, in all honesty, was working. I didn’t know if I could stand it much longer. How I hated him and his slimy son. If they both dropped dead in front of me, I would smile and send my thanks to the heavens.
“Did you enjoy the gardens?” King Louis asked Yutrik, who rudely shrugged his shoulders in that ridiculously puffy doublet of his.
Algar quickly stepped forward. “Forgive my son’s youthful ignorance. It’s your greatness that intimidates him,” he said. “He enjoyed the stroll with your angelic daughter very much, is that not so, Yutrik?”
Yutrik quickly nodded, avoiding his father’s deadly gaze. Louis smiled, then looked over at me, his eyes pausing on my dress as if examining something in the fabric. I froze. Was there blood?
“Is anything the matter, My Queen?” Louis asked as his eyes met mine again. “Her Highness’s thoughts seem occupied tonight.”
Algar frowned. “I have not seen Sir Dieter since the welcoming ceremony. Is he unwell?”
Faking a smile, I straightened my spine to make myself bigger, like a puffy cat.
“Her Highness has a lot on her mind,” Gunther answered in my stead. For a second, I was deluded into thinking he was coming to my rescue, but then his foul mouth opened again. “And a woman’s brain is weaker than that of a man,” he added in a rude tone. “Without the help of male supremacy, they can get lost. If you ask me, a man of God, a woman’s choices should be all placed into the safety of the common sense of men.”
My fingers twitched. How I longed to slap this man across his disgusting mouth—in front of the whole world. Gunther had been insulting me from behind the shield of his godly title ever since I had walked back into the ballroom unharmed. It was as if the verbal attacks helped ease the pain of seeing me alive, knowing his attempt to kill me had failed. But losing my temper was exactly what Gunther and Algar wanted. Slapping or insulting Gunther in front of His Holiness would make me look insane and could be the very thing they might use to dethrone me. In the eyes of my people, Gunther was a man of God and therefore incapable of wrongdoing.
So instead, I faked a smile. If there was one thing I had learned from living under the harassment of women-hating men like Gunther, it was to control my own emotions until it was time for revenge.
“A little old fashioned in its view, but I would like to express my gratitude to His Grace for his concern for my wellbeing,” I countered coldly.
“Well spoken, My Queen,” Louis said.
Gunther grinned and stuffed his mouth with half of a chocolate pastry.
“With that in mind,” I added, turning to His Holiness, who was quietly drinking his wine. “I would like to request an audience with His Holiness to speak about some of those distractions on my mind.”
Quickly, Gunther swallowed his pastry. “I will arrange—”
“That won’t be necessary,” I interrupted. “I was thinking of something more private.”
Gunther almost dropped the rest of his pastry. “Well, it is my duty to arrange such holy meetings—”
“To ease my weak, womanly mind,” I interrupted him again. “I would be very grateful to His Holiness.”
His Holiness looked at me, curiosity written in the wrinkles lining his face.
“Verygrateful,” I emphasized.
Gunther stepped forward, stumbling slightly, and was about to speak, but His Holiness raised his hand to demand his silent.
“Of course, my child,” His Holiness said in a soft tone. How a man this weak and old could be so powerful. “God would not want it any other way.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Gabrielle, out of all people, chipped in. “What a blessed idea.”
My head turned toward the pretty woman. Why was she aiding me? The old Mina would not have questioned her help, but the new me, the one under constant attack, was suspicious of everyone at this point.
“I shall send for you tomorrow, child,” His Holiness said as he emptied his cup. “Now I shall retire. My old bones need rest.”
We all bowed, kings and queens alike, as we watched the small, fragile man slowly make his way toward the doors. Then he stopped and turned toward Gunther. The snake was rooted to the floor next to me, sweat on his forehead, his lips moving, searching for words.
