Ally of the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  “Of course you will. Fiona—”

  “Don’t say it.” His eyes were dark and intense and she wished she could hide from them. “This is all make-believe. It doesn’t change anything.”

  His lips compressed in a tight line, and he turned away from her. “It’s just a small family party,” he said. “But I think Doug will be there.”

  “How many of your family members know the truth?”

  “I doubt anyone but Mother knows, aside from us. Landon might, but he’s so painfully forthright I could see Mother thinking he’d be a liability. She’d never tell Great-Uncle Sebastian or Emily. We should behave as if we know nothing, either.”

  “I can do that.” She hesitated, then said, “Tell me about your family. What should I expect?”

  Sebastian took a seat on the long sofa and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Landon only cares about two things, food and hunting,” he said. “He’ll talk about those for hours if you let him. His wife Veronica is so reserved it’s hard to get her to talk about anything, but she won’t seek you out. It’s not an insult—she’s just like that. My sister Emily, though, will want to befriend you.”

  “That makes me uncomfortable.”

  “You won’t be. Emily was born understanding social graces. She’ll make you feel welcome.”

  “But I’ll be lying to her. We’re lying to all of them.”

  “Does it matter, if you’re not staying?” He raised his head and fixed her with that dark, intense gaze again.

  “I…suppose not.” It did matter, but she couldn’t explain why. “So Landon is boring, Veronica is reserved, and Emily is friendly. Who else?”

  “Great-Uncle Sebastian. He’s my favorite relative. He doesn’t get out much anymore, being in his eighties, but he’s still sharper than anyone I know. He and Mother don’t get along, and he despises Doug and Landon, but he has always been kind to me. I don’t think it’s just because we share a name. I think you’ll like him. I know he’ll like you.”

  “What about the Consort? What’s your father like?”

  Sebastian went still. “You know he’s not well.”

  “I’d heard that, yes.” It was common knowledge that the Consort, James North, had a debilitating illness neither doctors nor healers could cure.

  “He can’t sit for long periods of time, so he won’t be joining us for the meal. I was thinking we should visit him after supper. It will look strange if I don’t bring my new bride to meet my father.”

  “I don’t mind. We need to keep up the pretense, after all.”

  “And if Doug’s there…” Sebastian blew out his breath. “Let’s just hope Doug’s not there. I’m not sure I could maintain my composure.”

  “Would he really come to supper, just like nothing’s wrong?” She secretly wanted to meet this prince who’d caused them so much grief, but Sebastian was right, it would be hard to act as if she didn’t know anything about his inherent magic or his crimes.

  “Knowing Doug, yes. I don’t know if he’s in Aurilien. It would make sense for Mother to keep him close, but just as much sense to send him away while she’s cleaning up his mess. I don’t know.” He stood and offered Fiona his arm. “Shall we?”

  The enormous sitting room with the fireplace big enough to sleep in was occupied when they reached it. A young woman sat on one of the sofas, staring pensively into the fire. She looked up when they entered, and a smile spread across her face. “Seb, how could you?” she exclaimed, rising from her seat. “You got married and you didn’t tell anyone!” She was short and plump, with fine brown hair a few shades lighter than Sebastian’s, and her blue eyes twinkled with merriment that said she was amused rather than angry.

  “It was a whirlwind romance. I wanted to capture her before she met the family and came to her senses,” Sebastian said. “Fiona, this is my sister Emily. Emily, Fiona, my wife.”

  He said it so casually Fiona shivered, as if the deception had not been real until his words made it so. Then it was a little too real for comfort. “How do you do?” she said politely.

  “Oh, you don’t need to be formal with me,” Emily said, and to Fiona’s complete surprise she ignored Fiona’s offered hand and swept her up in a hug. Startled, Fiona returned it. “I’m so glad to meet you. Don’t let the family overwhelm you. We can be a little loud, but it’s just how we communicate. Seb, did you take her to meet Father yet?”

  “After supper,” Sebastian said. “Is he having a good day?”

  “As good as it ever is,” Emily said, her good humor evaporating. “The new treatment seems to be working, even if all it does is ease his pain. So he’s less irritable.”

  “Sebastian!” someone boomed, and Fiona turned to see a tall, handsome man enter the room with an equally tall woman on his arm. He looked so much like the Queen, with his black hair and bright blue eyes, Fiona knew he had to be Landon North, Crown Prince of Tremontane.

  “Good to see you,” Landon said, clasping Sebastian’s hand firmly and clapping him on the shoulder. “And this is the woman you married. About time you settled down. Welcome to the family, Lady North—what’s your name?”

  “This is Fiona, Landon,” Sebastian said. “Fiona, may I introduce my brother Landon and his wife Veronica.”

  “Charmed,” Veronica North said. Though she was as tall as her husband, she was thinner, and gave Fiona the impression of a stick insect, though she was attractive enough. It was just the way she moved, as if she had to think about every step required to extend a hand for Fiona to clasp, as she did now. “Do I know your family?”

  “Unlikely,” Fiona said, and was saved from elaborating by the entrance of a short, stout man with thick white hair and a short white beard to match. His blue-eyed gaze scanned the room and lit on her, and she felt unexpectedly flustered, as if he could see through her skin to the heart of her. He smiled at Sebastian and strode across the room.

  “Good to have you home again, boy,” he said, his voice a deep bass rumble. “Why don’t you introduce me to my…new niece.” He gave Sebastian a strange, unreadable look.

  “Of…course,” Sebastian murmured. “Great-Uncle Sebastian, this is Fiona North.”

  Again that frisson of discomfort passed through Fiona. Great-Uncle Sebastian fixed his blue-eyed North gaze upon her again. “Of course she is,” he said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. “Welcome to the family.”

  “Thank you,” Fiona said. He had the oddest expression, like he knew a secret and was waiting for the right moment to reveal it. She glanced at Landon and Veronica, who’d lost interest in her and were moving away to greet Queen Genevieve, who entered the room at that moment trailed by Master Thornton, still in North blue and silver. The Queen was dressed more formally than she had been that afternoon, but her forbidding expression was the same.

  “I want to talk to you privately later,” Sebastian whispered to his great-uncle.

  “I’m sure you do,” Great-Uncle Sebastian said, “you and your…wife.”

  That chilled Fiona further. Sebastian had spoken so highly of his great-uncle, but the man seemed terribly unwelcoming despite his pleasant words. If he disapproved of the supposed match, how would that affect his relationship with his favorite nephew? Fiona felt even more guilty at their deception. She didn’t want their pretend marriage to hurt Sebastian’s family standing.

  Across the room, the Queen turned to look at Fiona and Sebastian. Her eyes narrowed, though Fiona couldn’t tell what she was thinking—that Fiona’s dress was wrong? She should have worn her hair up? Or, more likely, that Sebastian had made a fool of himself marrying someone unknown to the family or high society in general. Fiona smiled politely at the Queen, who regarded her for another long moment before turning away and saying, “Please join me for supper, everyone.”

  Fiona took Sebastian’s offered arm once more and allowed him to lead her down one of the halls to a door on the left. The royal family’s residence had her confused with all its identical doors and hallwa
ys. She wouldn’t be able to find Sebastian’s room without help. Well, it was only for one night. It wasn’t as if she needed to get used to the place.

  22

  The dining room was as enormous as the sitting room had been. The table, which seated twelve, was far too small for it, though Fiona suspected it was modular and could be expanded as needed. Or perhaps there were more tables hidden behind the wainscoting. Sebastian held a chair for her just as if she were a noble lady—tonight, that’s what she was, and she needed to remember that.

  He seated himself beside her and gave her a reassuring smile. She needed it. There were no fewer than five forks, three spoons, and two knives at her place, along with two wine glasses and a snowy white napkin folded in the shape of a fan. She followed Sebastian’s example and draped it across her lap. And this was just a family dinner. Imagine a full state affair with fifteen courses.

  Emily sat on her other side and put her own napkin in her lap. She smiled pleasantly at Fiona, but said nothing until servitors had brought out huge tureens of clear soup and filled their bowls. “So, Fiona, tell us about yourself,” she said. “I don’t think I know your family.”

  “You probably don’t,” Fiona said, flashing a glance at Sebastian. He’d applied himself to his soup bowl and didn’t give her any hints by expression or word. They hadn’t discussed what she would say to them, whether she should lie to make herself seem more acceptable. The thought irritated Fiona. None of this was real. She wasn’t Sebastian’s wife, wasn’t going to be his wife, and she was who she was.

  “My family has lived in Aurilien for generations,” she said, “tradesmen and –women, mostly. My parents passed away years ago, and I went to live with my aunt and uncle after my divorce.”

  Veronica made a sputtering sound around a mouthful of soup, but recovered quickly. Landon, his brows rising, said, “Divorce?”

  “Yes. My ex-husband and I parted ways about four months ago. It was best for everyone.” Take that, your Highness. She wasn’t going to let him make her feel ashamed of her choices. That was her business.

  “But—” Landon cast a quick glance at his mother, seated at the head of the table. She was placidly eating soup and showed no reaction to this revelation. Landon clearly wanted someone to back him on his appalled reaction, but when no one stepped forward, he subsided.

  “So how long have you and Sebastian known each other?” Great-Uncle Sebastian asked. He was seated directly opposite Fiona, and his sharp blue eyes bored into her with a steady pressure she wished she could duck away from.

  “A few weeks,” Sebastian said. “We’ve only been married a week, but it’s been an exciting one, don’t you agree, love?”

  She wanted to kick him under the table, but refrained. “It has,” she agreed.

  “She quite swept me off my feet,” Sebastian continued. Fiona sipped her soup and hoped her annoyance wasn’t obvious. Between that and the divorce, she sounded like a gold-digging social climber. Not that it mattered what these people thought.

  “Oh, you did all the sweeping, love,” she responded. “You were irresistible.” Too much? No, Emily looked as if this were the most romantic thing she’d ever heard, though Great-Uncle Sebastian still had that look as if he were ferreting out her secrets.

  “I’m so happy for both of you,” Emily said. “Seb’s had far too many relationships that went nowhere. It’s past time he settled down.”

  “Don’t embarrass me in front of Fiona,” Sebastian said with a smile that said he wasn’t the least embarrassed. “She doesn’t need to be reminded of all my failed relationships.”

  “Sounds like she’s had at least one failed relationship of her own,” Landon rumbled.

  Fiona’s face went hot with embarrassment. “Excuse me?” Sebastian said, sounding dangerously calm.

  Landon looked startled. “I mean, you both have pasts, right? Not that—I apologize, that came out wrong.”

  “It’s all right, I understand what you meant,” Fiona said, willing her face to return to its usual shade. Sebastian had his hand curled tightly around a fork and looked ready to use it on his brother. “Sebastian tells me you’re a great hunter. Is this the season for it? I’m afraid I don’t know anything about hunting.”

  “Never rode to the hunt? Pity,” Landon said, sounding relieved that she wasn’t going to challenge him on his faux pas. “There’s nothing like it. True, this is the wrong time of year for a real hunt. I much prefer the autumn, the smell of falling leaves, the excitement of running a fox or a stag to ground—”

  “I’m sure Fiona isn’t interested,” Queen Genevieve said. It was Landon’s turn to flush. “Fiona, you said your people are tradesmen. Is that what you’ve done all your life?”

  “My former husband and I were traders for many years, then importers centered in Kingsport.” Fiona wished she’d allowed Landon to keep talking. She had no desire to carry on a conversation with the Queen, whose sharp blue eyes were as piercing as Great-Uncle Sebastian’s. “It’s how Sebastian and I met, traveling to Veribold together.”

  The Queen’s eyes narrowed. “A trip to Veribold? How…romantic.”

  She clearly expected Fiona to spill Douglas’s secret. Fiona’s dislike of the woman deepened. “It was,” she said, not elaborating further.

  The servitors returned, removing the soup plates and serving some kind of mutton in gravy that disguised its contours. Fiona took a bite. It was both bland and over-salted. So much for how the rich and powerful ate. Her aunt was a better cook than this.

  “We intend to leave for Umberan in the morning,” Sebastian said. “A real wedding trip. Veribold is pretty, but it’s full of Veriboldans and not nearly so nice as the seashore.”

  “But you only just got here!” Emily protested. “I want a chance to get to know Fiona.”

  “There will be plenty of time for that.” Sebastian was taking very small bites, Fiona noticed, and concluded he was as unimpressed with the food as she was. Even the Irantzen Temple had had better cuisine, if less of it. “We should only be gone for four weeks.”

  “Then we’ll have a grand reception and dance when you return,” Emily said. “Fiona, you’ll let me plan it, won’t you? I can take care of all the details while you’re gone, and you need only wear a beautiful gown and enjoy yourself.”

  Fiona wished she could kick herself under the table. Emily was so innocently pleased at the thought of having her for a sister Fiona felt like an utter heel for deceiving her. She stole a glance at Queen Genevieve. If Sebastian was right, and the Queen had arranged the elimination of the witnesses to Douglas North’s crimes, Fiona’s life was in danger if they didn’t keep up this charade. The necessity burned within her. Under other circumstances, Emily was someone she might have wanted to befriend, princess or no. She remembered Hien and felt even sicker. When had she turned into someone who could lie so readily to honorable women?

  “That would be nice, but you really don’t have to go to all that trouble,” she said.

  “It’s no trouble. I love planning parties. It’s one of my favorite activities.” Emily put a gentle hand on Fiona’s arm. “I hope we will be friends.”

  “I…hope so too.” Fiona scraped away some of the salty gravy and choked down another bite of mutton. She tried not to look at Great-Uncle Sebastian, who wouldn’t stop staring at her. Would she be too rude if she challenged him on it? Of course she would. That would be rude even by the standards of her own class.

  The door flew open. “Sorry I’m late,” a man said, strolling in and taking a seat at the end of the table opposite the Queen. He was absurdly handsome, even more so than Landon, with black hair that waved back from his forehead, a dimple in his chin, and blue eyes exactly like the Queen’s. Beside her, Sebastian stiffened. Now he held his knife like a weapon as well as his fork.

  “Douglas,” Queen Genevieve said. “When did you arrive?”

  “About an hour ago.”

  “And what were you doing for an entire hour that you could
not appear on time for supper?”

  “Come, Mother, you wouldn’t expect me to appear at table dressed in my travel clothes?” Douglas North smiled, a lazy, confident expression that made Fiona feel like stabbing him herself. His eyes swept the length of the table and stopped at Fiona. “Well, well,” he drawled. “And who is this?”

  A peculiar feeling began behind Fiona’s eyes, a pressure like a headache, only pleasant instead of painful. She blinked, and the feeling spread like warm butter through her veins, settling in the pit of her stomach and starting a little fire there. Douglas was certainly attractive, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him—

  “The lady is Fiona North,” Sebastian said. “My wife.”

  The feeling vanished, leaving Fiona cold and sick from more than the horrible mutton. Douglas’s eyebrows quirked upward with astonishment. “Your wife?” he exclaimed. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself leg-shackled finally! I thought you had an arrangement with Lady Louise Peppard.”

  “That was years ago,” Sebastian said, his voice frosty. “Though I don’t expect you to remember the details of my relationships. I’m astonished you can remember the details of yours, as many as you’ve had.”

  “That’s enough, Sebastian,” the Queen said. “Douglas, sit up straight and for heaven’s sake use a napkin. Will you be staying long?”

  “Until winter’s over,” Douglas said. “Kingsport is so dull this time of year.”

  “Fiona is from Kingsport,” Emily said, with the eagerness of someone who wanted to head off a fight. “At least, recently from Kingsport, isn’t that right?”

  “Really? I’m surprised we’ve never met,” Douglas said. He leaned back in his chair as the servitors set out the second course, a kind of fish Fiona had never seen before. It was dressed with lemon slices and looked dry and unappetizing. Surely the Queen could afford to hire a better cook? She took a bite and had her guess confirmed; it flaked readily and, she suspected, wasn’t intended to. She watched Sebastian closely and mimicked his choice of utensils, keeping her mouth too full to answer Douglas. Being drawn into conversation by this man…had he really just tried to use his magic on her? She could imagine no other reason why she’d feel compelled to kiss him, here in the middle of the dining room with Sebastian sitting beside her.