Chapter 43
The queen's chambers radiated a cold elegance that made it hard to believe anyone truly lived here. Tall windows draped in gossamer curtains let in the last remnants of daylight, casting golden streaks across the floor. Queen Isabelle's sharp gaze cut through the room like a dagger, dissecting me piece by piece. She looked different, far from the Isabelle Carstairs I once knew.
She looked a little older, more mature, even more beautiful than she had been before.
Her smile was graceful but taut, as though plastered on for appearances. "Lady Arin," she said, her voice smooth but cool, "I heard you’ll be staying here for quite a while. I trust everything is to your liking.”
I curtsied deeply. "It's more than I could have hoped for, Your Majesty. Thank you for your generosity."
Her lips twitched, but her eyes never warmed. "Generosity." She tasted the word as if unsure whether it fit. "Yes, well, we do strive to accommodate our guests. Especially those as... intriguing as yourself."
The words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. I kept my head bowed, careful not to meet her gaze too directly. Careful not to even give her the slightest hint that I was someone she could know or remember.
Isabelle was every inch a queen: regal, commanding, and utterly intimidating. She made a better queen than I would have probably made. She wore power as effortlessly as her gilded gown, but there was a tension in her that spoke of something more.
"I've heard much about your bravery," she continued, circling me like a hawk. "To take up the role of envoy after your father's passing. Such loyalty to your house. And to your... people."
There it was. A subtle reminder that I did not truly belong here.
"It was my duty, Your Majesty," I replied, keeping my voice even. "I only hope to serve the crown well."
She stopped in front of me, her sharp eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, I thought she might see through the carefully constructed lie of Lady Arin, but then her smile returned—thin and brittle.
"Such admirable humility," she said. "Rare among the nobility."
I dipped my head again, unwilling to engage further. Isabelle seemed to relish the silence that followed, letting it stretch just long enough to make me squirm.
"Well, I shan't keep you," she finally said, stepping back. "You'll need to prepare for tonight's banquet. I trust you'll make an impression. After all, first impressions can be... unforgettable."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
With a curt nod, she dismissed me.
As I was led to my chambers by a quiet servant, I couldn't shake the feeling that Isabelle's words had been a veiled warning. Whatever suspicions she harbored about me, she clearly intended to keep me under her watchful eye.
My chambers were more opulent than anything I could have imagined. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and the bed was draped in silk and velvet. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. Yet, despite the luxury, I felt out of place.
I missed the chambers that Rowan and I had once shared. The one where I had first met him. It was small and dirty but it held so many memories for me.
It wasn't long before a young handmaiden bustled in, carrying a tray of cosmetics and hairpins. She was petite, with rosy cheeks and a bright, infectious energy that filled the room.
"Good evening, my lady!" she chirped, setting her things down. "I'm Milla, your handmaiden for the evening. Oh, you're even prettier than I expected! The court's already buzzing about you."
I managed a smile. "Buzzing, you say?"
"Oh, yes! Everyone's talking about how King Rowan brought you to court himself. We rarely get visitors from other kingdoms. You must be someone very special."
"Hardly," I said, sitting at the vanity. "I'm just here to serve my country. Learn how to repair the relationship between our two kingdoms.”
Milla began brushing my hair with swift, practiced strokes. "Well, whatever the reason, you've certainly caught people's attention. And not all of it's friendly, if you don't mind me saying."
I glanced at her reflection in the mirror. "What do you mean?"
Her cheeks flushed. "Oh, I probably shouldn't gossip, but... well, it's no secret that the queen isn't particularly fond of newcomers. Especially when they are women. She can be... proud. Very proud."
"Pride is fitting for a queen," I said carefully.
Milla snorted. "Fitting, maybe. But it doesn't win her any friends. She treats everyone like they're beneath her, even the other nobles. And—well, between you and me—she's been frustrated for months."
"Frustrated?"
Milla hesitated, then leaned in conspiratorially. "She hasn't been able to get pregnant. Not since she married the king. It's been the talk of the servants' quarters for ages. They say she's desperate to give him an heir, but nothing's worked. And, you know, when people are desperate..."
"They become bitter," I finished softly.
She nodded solemnly, then perked up again. "But enough about that! You're the one everyone's curious about now. Especially Prince Lucian."
My breath hitched, but I kept my expression neutral. "The prince?"
"Oh, yes!" she said, her voice rising with excitement. "He's been spending more time at court than usual lately. You know everything that happened with his mate Delilah is so sad. It's no secret that the Royal Concubine wants him to settle down and marry again. And, well, he's quite the catch, isn't he?"
"He's certainly... charming," I admitted, my heart twisting.
Milla giggled. "Charming doesn't even cover it. Half the noblewomen in Zaire would give anything for his attention. They say he has his mother's looks and his father's temper. A dangerous combination, if you ask me."
"And does he have his heart set on anyone?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Milla hesitated, then sighed. "It's hard to say. He's kind to everyone, but... there's been talk that he's taken a liking to Lady Greta. She's elegant and ambitious—the perfect match, really."
“And the King? King Rowan, how is he with Queen Isabelle?”
I asked and Milla swooned.
“Oh they are perfect. He dotes on her. They are the perfect couple. He cares very much about her you see.”
She said and I sighed. It felt like I had been shot in the chest.
"You seem upset, my lady," Milla said, her brow furrowing.
"Not at all," I lied. "It's just been a long day."
She nodded sympathetically. "Of course. Well, let's make sure you're the most dazzling lady at the banquet tonight. Who knows? Maybe you'll catch Prince Lucian’s eye, too."
Her words were meant to comfort, but they only deepened my sorrow. All that time a small part of me was hoping there was still a chance, only for my hopes to be dashed and my heart broken yet again.
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