Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“We were brought together by a work order form,” I replied, even though I did not want to respond, nor would have had it been anyone else.
“So, you do not care about them?”
I stopped talking, hoping he would get the hint. But it was Wolfgang. Hints flew over his head like planes over the ocean.
He leaned in to whisper, and I stepped farther away. “Iskandar, you know you are the only person I can talk to about this stuff. We are the only ones who know—”
“I. Am. Working,” I repeated because he did not understand the words coming out of my mouth the first time.
He looked up at me for a long time then shook his head as if I were the unreasonable one. Oh, the man-child infuriated me.
“Careful.”
My head whipped back to them, already walking forward, only to see that Odette had caught the little girl from falling and helped her stand. How she managed to move so gracefully in those death contraptions they called heels, all the while keeping her dress unstained, was beyond my logic. I also noticed that everyone within viewing distance had stopped and were now openly staring, not pretending like they once were to have conversations as they tried to get a glimpse of the future queen.
“Are you all right?” Odette asked in perfect Ersovian.
“Yes, I am sorry, Your Highness,” the little girl said as she curtsied.
“There is no need to apologize. And even though you curtsied very well—much better than I do, I must say—I am not Your Highness yet. You may call me Miss Odette. What is your name?”
Once more, I was surprised by her fluent speech already. I looked at Prince Galahad, and he also seemed a bit stunned.
“My name is Lady Ramona Marlowe of Bothwin.”
“Lady?” Odette questioned before curtsying. “You must forgive me, Your Ladyship, I was not aware.”
The girl giggled and smiled. The future queen had curtsied to her. Despite what the papers had said, it was not customary for the future queen once engaged to curtsy to anyone who was not among the royal family. They could if the lord or lady was of some great importance or held some reverence for them, but that was not protocol.
“She has just made that little girl’s whole year.”
Once more, my shoulders went up slightly as the same voice came up behind me. I thought he had left, but once again, he was right back at my side.
“But we know what tomorrow’s story will be,” he went on. “Odette Wyntor breaks protocol by curtsying to a lower-court lady, even though it’s not against protocol, and she was being kind.”
His voice held apparent anger. Childish anger like someone had called his mother fat, and he wished to jump them in the schoolyard.
“Look at their faces,” he still went on, even though I was not adding to his conversation. “Half of them want to get closer to her, and the other half wish she would screw up in some way so they can laugh and talk about it for years to come.”
I could see the two groups, men and women alike.
“She really pushed herself for this, Iskandar, over and over again, practicing, working, studying,” he whispered, and I swear to God it looked as if he was getting emotional. “I truly just want this to go well for her.”
“It—” It will was what I was going to say. However, I stopped as my attention was drawn toward the figure dressed in black coming down the staircase.
“But why? Bloody hell, why? Isn’t she in mourning?” Wolfgang muttered, his shoulders dropping.
The announcer, who I thought was done for the day, called out, “Sophia De Loutherbergh, the Dowager Duchess of Elmburgh.”
They all parted for her as if she were Moses, and they were the red sea, and she nodded once to their curtsies. Everything about her, the way she looked, the way they regarded her, and the way she acted around them, you would have thought she was the queen. The prime minister, who did not look like a supporter of mine, stopped to kiss her hand and speak to her about how great Arthur was. Sophia listened with poise and grace, and every other great adjective, before excusing herself from their conversation and walking directly toward me. The long, black gown she wore made it look as if she was gliding on the ground. I tried to prepare myself, but I was not sure exactly what I was preparing myself for. I tried to keep my face as pleasant as possible, waiting, when all of a sudden, I felt a hand on my back. The body attached to that now closer than what was considered decent according to my classes here.
I knew it was Gale from the smell of him. I had thought he had moved to talk to someone from parliament. But apparently, he had not gone far. When Sophia finally came close enough, I immediately curtsied to her much longer than I needed to.