The Rebel Queen

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Who is Lady Clayton?” I ask, feeling another uncomfortable rush of heat into my face.

  “No one of importance.” Henry’s voice deepens to a growl. Tension tightens the muscles braced against my side.

  A smirk curls the corners of Marie’s lips. “Lady Clayton is—was—Henry’s fiancée.”

  Soft rain patters on the stained-glass windows. The grandfather clock at the back of the room ticks, counting down the seconds to the end of my patience. I draw in a deep breath and try to think of all the reasons I should walk out of the castle, jump in a car, and leave Androvia forever. I want to go, but I can’t. As Henry loves to remind me, there’s nowhere to run. Besides, I’m no quitter. I lift my chin. He deserves a chance to explain. We’ve only known each other a short time. There are bound to be more surprises along this journey.

  “I see by the shock on your face that Henry neglected to tell you about Lady Clayton. How convenient.” A triumphant gleam brightens her eyes.

  Henry offers no excuses. His handsome face remains expressionless. I expect him to glance away, to flush with embarrassment or show some kind of remorse, but he’s completely relaxed. Not the actions of a guilty man. Secrets lurk behind his smile. “I told you about Lady Clayton. Remember?”

  He never mentioned a fiancée. In fact, he denied having ties with anyone. Is this part of his twisted need to manipulate and control me? I’m familiar with mind games. My father is the master. My new mother-in-law seems adept at deception, as well. From the looks of things, I can’t trust anyone—not my husband nor his mother. This situation calls for level-headed ingenuity. I can play it several ways. Anger will suggest a lack of emotional control. Denial will make me look stupid. My best bet is to feign indifference until I can figure out the rules to this new game and who the players are.

  In a bold move, I slide a hand over Henry’s hard bicep and squeeze. “Of course.” His cool blue-green eyes stare at me with a mixture of amusement and caution, because he knows I’m lying. I smile at his wariness. Princess Marie and her son need to understand that I won’t be a pawn in their schemes. “Henry, you said your relationship was over long ago.”

  “And it was.” The left corner of his lips twitch, as if he’s trying to contain his grin. “The only feelings I have are for you. No one is more important to me than you are, my love.” The hue of his eyes brightens. He takes my hand in his and lifts it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the top of my knuckles. My heart flutters, more from the darkness in his eyes than his touch. For a brief interlude, I’m mesmerized by the promise in their clear depths.

  The princess picks at imaginary lint on her sleeve. “Be warned, Everly. Monogamy has never been one of Henry’s strongest traits.”

  “Your confidence is underwhelming,” he replies dryly.

  The whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours has sapped the last of my energy and patience. I need to process everything that has happened, to get my head straight. Something I can’t accomplish in a room filled with hostile strangers. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to accept your offer of dismissal. I’m exhausted and need to freshen up. May I be excused?”

  “Yes. You may leave.” With a flick of her fingers, I’m dismissed. “Olga, show this woman upstairs.” Henry bows, preparing to exit with me, but she shakes her head. “Not you, Henry. You stay. We have things to discuss.”

  4

  Henry

  A private audience with my mother is never a good thing, especially when a few days earlier her husband died in bed with his lover and her son has secretly married an unsuitable American. Her Highness’s calm countenance and pleasant smile don’t fool me. I’ve been on the wrong side of her temper since birth. Today promises to be no different.

  “Tell me, Henry, are you insane?” Mother asks before Everly has crossed the threshold. “Are you on drugs? Are you in financial trouble? Because none of this makes sense to me.”

  My new wife pauses but doesn’t turn around. Her shoulders remain square. After all she’s been through, she still has fight left in her. The sight of her proud stature takes my breath away. I can’t wait to get her into my bed again. My blood heats at the thought.

  “Really, what were you thinking?” Mother flicks imaginary crumbs from her lap. “A McElroy? You know those people are nothing but trouble. Don made a mockery of the United States when he was Vice President. He’s the dirtiest politician to ever hold office. The Americans were so dazzled by his charm and pretty words that they turned a blind eye to his numerous faults. And what do you do? You give him a golden ticket into our realm. The press is going to have a heyday with his troubles, and now the House of Von Stratton will be linked to his scandal.”

  “I know this will come as a shock, but Androvia isn’t the center of the universe. No one cares.”

  “Lady Clayton does.”

  “Did someone call my name?” The sultry voice of my ex-fiancée sends a shiver of disgust up my back. I don’t turn around. Lady Clayton goes straight to Mother and dips in a curtsy. “Good morning, Your Highness. I’m so sorry for your loss. I got here as quickly as I could.”

  “Good morning, Catherine. How are you, my dear?” Mother takes Lady Clayton’s hands in hers. They exchange pretentious air kisses.

  “I’m brokenhearted over Gustav’s passing, but I’m well. Thank you for asking.” Lady Clayton turns her warm brown eyes to me. “Hello, Your Majesty. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” I mutter, not caring if I’m rude. She burned the bridge between us long ago by sleeping with my former best friend.

  “Still grumpy, I see.” She leans in to kiss my cheek. I turn my head and put a few feet of distance between us. Her lower lip extends in what she probably thinks is an adorable pout. “Haven’t you missed me?”

  “Like a thief misses his prison cell.” One of her best skills is burrowing beneath my skin, and she knows it. I vow not to let her antics disrupt my good mood.

  “Ouch. Harsh.” The smooth, fair skin of her brow wrinkles in fake dismay. “You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?”

  “For sleeping with Nicky? Not at all. In fact, I couldn’t care less who you fuck.”

  “Henry, language, please.” Mother views monogamy as impractical. My father’s mistress has lived in the castle for years, and my mother flits from one adulterous affair to the next. Needless to say, I didn’t learn family values from either of them.

  “Let’s not dwell on the past and things we can’t change.” Lady Clayton takes a seat on one of the stiff Louis XIV chairs, crossing her long legs to show them off, legs not nearly as amazing as my new bride’s. She mistakes my passing glance as interest and smiles. “Let’s talk about our future.”

  “You and I don’t have a future. Whatever existed between us ended the second you opened your legs for Nicky.” Even though it’s mid-morning, I need a drink to deal with these two harpies. I stride over to the cart of liquor. “You shouldn’t be here. This is a family issue.”

  Mother scowls. “Drinking so early, Henry? It’s not even noon yet.”

  “I’m here at your mother’s request to support her in this difficult time—and you, of course.” The simper on Lady Clayton’s face sets my nerves on edge.

  “You’re a godsend, my dear.” Mother smiles and pats Lady Clayton’s cheek. Her disapproval no longer affects me. I gave up trying to please her years ago. “Henry, if you must indulge, please let the servants pour for you. Didn’t your nanny teach you any manners? Have you forgotten your place?”

  “How could I forget? You never let me.” I ignore her and pour two fingers of scotch into a short glass. “Unlike you, I’m perfectly capable of pouring my own drink.”

  “I’ve been expecting your call, Henry.” Lady Clayton jumps to the heart of the matter. “Now that I’m here, we can get to business. I found the perfect dress for the wedding. You’ll love it.”

  “Henry has something to tell you, Kitty,” Mother says, eyes gleaming. If I didn’t know better
, I’d think she enjoyed the drama. “Go ahead, Henry. Tell her about your little surprise.”

  “Has he been bad again?” Lady Clayton glances at Mother with raised eyebrows, an indulgent simper on her lips. “What is it?”

  “He’s outdone himself this time.”

  The liquor glides down my throat. I turn to face Lady Clayton because I want to savor her response to my next statement, the way I’m savoring the subtle hints of peat and wood smoke in the scotch. “You’ll have to forgive me for not calling you. I got married yesterday, so I’ve been a bit busy with my new wife.”

  “Married?” Her jaw drops open, then her eyes narrow. The drain of color from her face represents the sweetest of victories. “Is this a joke?” Her fake laughter tinkles through the room. “You almost had me.”

  “It’s no joke. Henry has married an American girl.” The diamond on Mother’s finger winks as a ray of sunlight escapes the clouds, slants through the tall window, and lands on the five-carat monstrosity. She lifts her hand to pat her hair. “Can you believe it? I’m so distraught.”

  “No.” Lady Clayton collapses back into the chair and blinks like she’s been struck. Watching her future swirl down the toilet has to sting. I don’t try to hide my smile. Screw her. She deserves this. “It’s not possible.”

  “It is possible, and it’s true.” I refill my glass and pour a shot for her. “Here. You look like you need one.”

  She gulps down the expensive liquor and hands the glass back to me. The prettiness fades from her features, reflecting the ugliness inside her. “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “Exactly what I’d like to know,” Mother says. She flicks her fingers toward the scotch. “You might as well pour a glass for me. I think we all need a little fortification this morning.”

  “I have my reasons, none of which are your concern,” I reply, turning my back on them to fulfill Mother’s request. “I can do what I want. Marry whom I want. Fuck whom I want. You certainly did.”

  “No one is talking about fidelity. We’re talking about marriage. They’re two different things.” Mother’s forehead furrows in irritation.

  “I don’t care who you screw as long as we’re wed. Keep the girl on the side, if you must.” Anger tints Lady Clayton’s cheeks bright red. “We had an agreement.”

  “Your parents had an agreement with my parents a million years ago. I never agreed to anything.”

  “But you didn’t disagree.” She has a legitimate point, one which I prefer to ignore.

  “It amused me to watch the five of you plot and conspire and manipulate my life for your benefit.” Thinking about their cold calculations stirs my ire. At the time, my ascent to the throne had seemed a vague possibility, and I was too young to care.

  “Whatever the circumstances of your betrothal, the court will not allow it.” Mother takes the glass and sips delicately. “You breached tradition. She hasn’t been vetted or schooled on protocol. She’ll be an embarrassment to the palace.”

  “Everly has lived in the spotlight her entire life. She’ll be fine. As for the court, they’ll do whatever I want. I’m the king now. Or have you forgotten?”

  “How can I forget? Everything I’ve done in my life has been to prepare you for this moment. And how do you show your appreciation? By galivanting around the world for the past five years, squandering money on women and who knows what else.” This is the mother I’ve grown accustomed to—bitter, angry, and abusive. Her statement shows how little she knows about me. I stopped whoring around years ago. “Heaven knows your sisters are completely useless when it comes to matters of state. You’re all such a burden to me.”

  “Oh, Marie. You poor thing.” Lady Clayton clutches Mother’s hand in hers. “It’s just terrible—what you’ve been through.”

  “And now Henry has gone off and married this dreadful McElroy woman. Our family has been disgraced.”

  “Stop being melodramatic.” I slam my glass onto the fireplace mantle with a disgusted thump. “Everly has more class in her little finger than either of you.”

  “McElroy? Didn’t I hear her name on the news? Something about a conspiracy?” Lady Clayton lifts her head, interest sparking in her eyes.

  “Yes, the very same.” Mother sniffles. “Someone fetch me a handkerchief.” A housemaid materializes to provide a lace-trimmed linen square for Her Royal Highness. She dabs at imaginary tears. “It’s horrible. The history books will carry this blot on our name forever.”

  “No one outside of this palace gives two shits about the throne of Androvia, Mother, and you have no one to blame for that but yourself. As for Everly, what she did took a lot of strength and moral character.” Contradicting Her Royal Highness always gives me pleasure.

  “Please.” Lady Clayton snorts. “More like stupidity.”

  “What would you have done, Lady Clayton?” The question silences her. An ugly scowl flashes across her delicate features before she can squash it. We both know her loyalties lie wherever she can find money, power, and influence. She lifts her chin and looks out the window. I smirk. “Exactly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to meet with my advisors.”

  “You’re not excused, Henry. Not until we resolve this problem.” Mother shoves Lady Clayton aside and jumps to her feet.

  “I don’t take orders from you anymore.” I straighten my tie before walking toward the door.

  “Like it or not, we’re married. If I have my way, we’ll be together fifty years from now, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” Everly doesn’t know it, but I have no intention of letting her go—ever.

  “I want you to send that woman home. Today.” Mother’s voice shakes with anger. I keep walking. “As your mother, I command you.”

  Halfway to the door, I pause. Allegiance to the Queen Consort is deeply ingrained in my psyche, but I’m done cowing to a woman I don’t respect. “By the way, you’ll need to think about where you’re going to live after the coronation since this castle and palace belong to the king and his wife. You can stay until the coronation. Then I want you gone.” The blood drains from her face. “If I were you, I’d be nicer to your new daughter-in-law in case she decides to evict you sooner.”

  Mother’s infuriated shouts follow me out of the room. Gargoyles and cherubs gawk at me as I stride down the corridor. I know the history and meaning of every square inch of this place. It’s fallen into disrepair during my time away. Restoration will have to wait. Right now, the future of Androvia hangs in the balance. With the throne in flux and Everly’s father bent on revenge, the country is vulnerable. At the end of the hallway, I pass through another set of double doors and into the royal offices. Father’s desk sits in the center, piled high with papers and documents in need of review.

  “Welcome home, Your Majesty.” Stefan, the King’s Secretary, bows low enough to show the balding spot on the top of his head.

  “It’s good to see you, Stefan. How’s your wife? Your family?” We shake hands. When I left for college, he’d been an idealistic intern at my father’s elbow. The years have stolen some of the youth from his face, but his eyes are still the same warm brown. I’m sure my father put a few of the worry lines around Stefan’s eyes.

  “Good. Thank you, sir.” His smile is genuine. “I’ve got three boys now and a girl. And what about you? I hear congratulations are in order.”

  I’d forgotten how quickly news travels throughout the castle. “Yes. Married just yesterday. She’s upstairs resting.” The mention of Everly reminds me of more pressing matters. “We’ll catch up later. Right now, I need to meet with the King’s Guard and the Secretary of Defense. Could you round them up for me?” Plans for her safety, as well as mine, need to be put in place. She might be my wife, but she’s also the daughter of my enemy. Until I know more of her, she can’t be trusted.

  * * *

  EVERLY

  After the audience with my new mother-in-law, Olga leads me up several flights of stairs. She’s a young woman, about my age, with dark
shadows beneath her eyes. The circle of keys jingles in her hand, ringing off the arched stone corridors, a creaky set of wrought iron gates, and a final pair of double doors.

  “The royal apartment, ma’am.” Olga steps aside to let me enter first. I blink against the dimness until the somber shapes of heavy, velvet-upholstered chairs and sofas come into focus. “There is a sitting room, the king’s study, and a nursery down the hall.” The rooms smell of age and disuse. Olga skirts the edges of an enormous Aubusson rug and waits at a door on the opposite side of the space for me to catch up to her at the next set of doors. “This is the antechamber. The bedroom on the right belongs to His Majesty. The left is yours.”

  Separate bedrooms? I had assumed we’d share a bed. The notion of a personal space to decompress from his intensity is both disturbing and comforting. Part of me yearns to curl up on his warm, naked chest while the rest of me wishes to protect the few remaining shreds of my independence.

  Choosing a new key from the silver ring, she unlocks my door. She stands aside as I explore, hands clasped in front of khaki pants and a black polo shirt with the palace logo embroidered over the breast pocket. “The king’s suite connects to yours through a door in the paneling.” A faint pink blush settles in her cheeks. Does she know about Henry’s sexual proclivities? “You have a private dressing area and separate bath to the left.” She swings open the door to my bedroom. We blink against the torrent of dust motes. “Is everything to your liking, ma’am?”

  “It’s fine,” I reply, smiling as much for my own reassurance as hers. All the rooms are decorated in priceless antiques, rich colors, and luxurious furnishings—all of them but mine. I wrinkle my nose to stop a sneeze. Apparently, the new consort doesn’t rank very high on the luxury scale. “Although it could do with a good airing out, don’t you think?”