"Finally, you're home. How does it feel?" Instead of waiting for the formal audience, Elsbeth bursts into my chambers while Brianna is doing her utmost to transform my weathered skin and haggard hair into something more befitting of royalty. From the way she bites her lip, I fear she's close to desperation.

The abundance of scents and absence of air is suffocating. Perfumes, creams, powder, and chicken poop. I have only myself to blame for that last one. It was bad enough to part ways with Lachie, so I didn't budge on the chickens. Elsbeth pulls up her nose at the sight of the impromptu chicken coop I've ordered set up in a corner of my room.

She's right. I know I can't keep them here but I'll be damned before admitting that. Especially to her. Bitch has got some nerve. "How do I feel? That's an interesting question." I point Brianna to my pearl earrings. They remind me of the sea. "Surreal? Betrayed perhaps?"

"About that ... I was hoping we can get past that. Will you let me explain?"

I scan the dressing table for something to shove down her throat. So many options. A hairbrush, a comb that's significantly smaller but the teeth look extra painful, or how about that sparkling fucking tiara?

She sits down in–what used to be—my favorite chair by the window, her greyhound curling at her feet. The chair is luxuriously padded with a peacock blue and green pattern. From the chair she can effortlessly look at me while also checking out the hustle and bustle going on in the courtyard.

"I was always planning on getting you home as soon as it was safe to do so." With enviable composure, she arranges the pleats of her skirts, looking the epitome of grace and elegance even in this informal setting with her sister, the expression on her face bone-chilling neutral as if nothing untoward happened. "I couldn't tell you at the time because you were not yourself. There was no predicting what you would do if I told you my suspicions of a traitor in your council. You had already beheaded your husband. I couldn't allow you to make matters worse."

An icy chill runs through me. "What exactly are you telling me?"

"That I sniffed out the rat and brought him to justice after collecting the necessary evidence. I've saved your throne."

And yet she's supposed to be the clever one. I can't imagine in what world this explanation would make sense. "You've banished me to a rock in the ocean and crowned yourself Queen. You saved your throne, not mine. I could've been dead by now."

She bows toward the window as if something far more interesting has caught her attention before returning her gaze to me. "But you're not. Look at you! You're the picture of health."

"Not thanks to you, I'm not."

The smugness that sweeps up her smile at those words is unbearable. "Are you sure about that?" She scratches her nails over the velvet padding of the armrests as her eyes light up with satisfaction.

"Are you even serious right now?" I should just shove all three items down her throat or up her insufferable ass.

"I made sure Isabeau reached you," she says calmly, "and I contracted Lachie Greer to keep you safe."

My heart stills in my chest. She did what? Lachie did what? As I grip the edge of the dressing table, I feel the blood withdraw from my head. My eyes meet Brianna's in the mirror.

"Your majesty, are you alright? Do you want to lie down?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Can you leave us for a moment? You did splendidly. Thank you!"

I wait for Brianna to close the door behind her. "What was that last thing you said, about Lachie Greer?" I turn to Elsbeth. She doesn't even blink.

"I asked him not to tell you but you didn't honestly think anyone would volunteer to go to Baile na Grod? You must've at least suspected."

"You ordered him to go?"

"And promised to take care of his mother and sisters in his absence and grant him the cottage at Craobhan Road upon his return. I'm not heartless."

It takes everything I have to keep from pushing her out the window. "No, you're a warm-hearted creature indeed. Why him? Why the jester for fuck's sake?"

"Language, Marigold. You know father hated to hear you speak that way." She stands up so she can better look out the window. "Lachie Greer has been kissing the ground you walk on for as long as I can remember. I knew that he was the only man I could trust not to hurt you, the only man who would rather die than see you getting hurt. So you see, I've always had your best interest at heart."

Then why do I feel like the last working piece of my heart has been stomped on? "You're too kind," I say through gritted teeth, but she pretends not to notice my tone.

"So what I've been wanting to discuss before the vultures join in. I've been having my advisor looking into the legal matter of things and there's a perfectly reasonable construction that would allow us to rule this country together. The crown is a heavy thing, but two sisters, twin sisters, could share the responsibilities and the burden. Can you imagine the amazing work we could do together? What do you say?"

My head's reeling with all the information it received in under an hour and my heart's in smithereens. "I think I want you to leave."

"Of course, you'll need some time to think about this."

"Elsbeth, leave!"

She clicks her tongue for the dog to follow her out, but before slipping through the door, she turns back. "You do understand that it's best to agree on the details before we inform the council."

"Leave!" Though not known for my even temper, my voice has never sounded louder through this wretched palace.

WC 1009 words
TWC 18644 words