The Betrothed (The Betrothed #1)(5)

The kind that might surround King Jameson’s latest love interest.

“Take a breath,” Delia Grace commanded. “The king will want to see you’re well.”

I touched the flower I’d tucked behind my ear, making sure it was still in place. I straightened my gown and kept moving. She was right, of course. It was the same strategy that she’d used for years now.

But by the time we walked into the Great Room, the stares were unmistakably disapproving. I tried to keep my expression unreadable, but underneath it all, I was a trembling mess.

Against the wall, a man was standing, arms crossed, shaking his head.

“It would shame the whole country,” someone muttered as they passed me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nora. Going against every instinct I’d had up until yesterday, I walked over to her, Delia Grace trailing like a shadow.

“Good morning, Lady Nora. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but some of those at court today are . . .” I couldn’t find a word for it.

“Yes,” she answered quietly. “It seems someone on our outing yesterday shared the story of our little battle. No one appears to be upset with me, but of course, I am not the king’s favorite.”

I swallowed. “But His Majesty has been moving from lady to lady this last year as if it were nothing. He can’t be planning to keep my company much longer, so what’s the problem?”

She made a face. “He took you out of the palace. He let you sit under the flag. As casual as you might think yesterday was, it was unique to all of his interactions with women to date.”

Oh.

“It’s the lords, isn’t it?” Delia Grace asked Nora. “The ones on the council?”

In their first civil interaction in all the years I’d known them both, Nora gave a quick and sympathetic nod.

“What does that mean?” I asked. “Why would the king even care what anyone thought?”

Delia Grace, who’d always been a quicker study at government and protocol, only half rolled her eyes at me. “The lords run their counties for the king. He is dependent upon them.”

“If the king wants peace in the outreaches of the land and expects taxes to be collected properly, he needs the lords on the council to handle it,” Nora added. “If the lords are unhappy with the way things are done, well, let’s just say they can become lazy at their jobs.”

Ah. So the king could lose both income and security if he made the foolish mistake of aligning himself with someone the lords didn’t like. Someone like a girl who fell into a river while flinging fruit at another girl, all while still in sight of the statue honoring one of the greatest queens the country had ever known.

For a split second, I was completely overcome by humiliation. I’d read far too much into Jameson’s words, into his attentions. I’d really thought that becoming queen might be a possibility.

But then I remembered: I’d always known I wouldn’t be queen.

Yes, it would be fun to be the wealthiest lady in all of Coroa, to have statues erected in my honor . . . but that wasn’t realistic, and surely Jameson was only moments away from being swept off his feet by another pretty smile. The best I could do was enjoy Jameson’s elaborate flirtations while they lasted.

Taking Nora’s hand, I faced her. “Thank you. Both for the bit of fun yesterday and your honesty today. I owe you.”

She smiled. “Crowning Day is in a few weeks. If you and the king are still attached, I assume you’ll choreograph a dance for him. If you do, let me be a part of it.”

Plenty of girls performed new dances for Crowning Day, hoping to gain favor by honoring the king. I supposed, if Jameson was still entertaining the idea of me then, I would be expected to have one ready. From what I remembered, Nora was pretty graceful. “I’ll want all the help I can get. You absolutely have a place.”

I motioned for Delia Grace to follow me once more. “Come. I need to thank the king.”

“Are you mad?” she whispered, aghast. “You’re not really going to let her dance with us, are you?”

I looked back at her, incredulous. “She just showed me great kindness. And she was more than polite to you. It’s just a dance, and she’s very light on her feet. It will make us all look better.”

“Her actions today can hardly make up for past wrongs,” Delia Grace insisted.

“We’re growing up,” I told her. “Things change.”

Her face said she wasn’t at all pacified by that answer, but she stayed silent as we made our way through the sea of people.

King Jameson was on the raised stone dais at the head of the Great Room. It was wide, built with room for a large royal family to occupy it, but it currently held only a single throne with two small seats on either side for whoever his most important guests were at the moment.

The Great Room was used for everything: receiving guests, balls, and even dinner each night. Along the eastern wall, the steps up to the gallery for the musicians were lined with tall windows that let in ample amounts of sunlight. But it was the western wall that drew my gaze each time I entered the room. Six stained-glass windows spanned the length, stretching from the height of my waist all the way to the ceiling. The windows depicted scenes from Coroan history in glorious illustration, cascading color and light throughout the room.