"Yes." Gideon tilted his head toward his friend. "You're right. I suppose I see you as part of the family."
Ursula finished her porridge and pushed the bowl aside. "So, no one outside your immediate family, and Lord Dashiell, saw past your disability?"
Gideon took a deep breath and shook his head, smiling. "I suppose I did make it sound like I was treated like a pariah, hidden away and feared by little children."
"And you weren't?" Ursula raised her eyebrows and covered her mouth as though she were shocked. It was nice to hear he had a sense of humor about all this. After her dinner with his aunt and cousin, she'd begun to wonder if his whole life had been a series of humiliations and rejections.
"There were many, many happy moments," Gideon said, getting off his stool and reaching for her bowl. She handed it to him and when he took it, their fingers touched.
When she'd left her room earlier, she'd chosen not to wear her gloves because she had seen women here didn't. Tonight was the first time she'd been out without them since she was old enough to be considered a woman, and even though only three people had seen her bare hands, it had felt quite daring.
Until now.
Her Water Sensitivity flared up at the contact, something that had never happened to her before. Was this why gloves were considered proper attire? Did everyone's Abilities react to skin to skin contact?
In her mind's eye, she saw Gideon as a child, stumbling after his sister in a field of flowers. Even though he and Harriet were twins, in this memory, she had just started walking, but Gideon, even with his deformed leg, moved more confidently, as though he were at least a few months older.
Almost instantly, Gideon pulled back from her, stumbling and dropping one of the bowls. Dashiell jumped up and was at the Prince's side in a moment, keeping him from falling.
"What happened?" the valet asked.
Gideon placed a hand on the table and closed his eyes for a moment. Ursula started to her feet. Had he seen the same thing she had? Was that a true memory or wishful thinking on his part, and why had it happened?
A moment later, he opened his eyes and looked at her. "I...um...must be more tired than I thought. That's all."
Dashiell look unconvinced, but he nodded and said, "Perhaps we should get you back to your quarters. It has been an eventful few days."
"Of course," Ursula said. "I will take care of the dishes."
"Please, Your Majesty, let me." The valet met her eyes and silently communicated a plea. Instantly, she realized how it would look to the rest of the staff if the Queen was found cleaning the kitchen. Servant gossip could be more damaging than that of the nobles.
"Of course," she said, tipping her head to him. "I should get back to my rooms, as well. It would not do to have me declared missing."
"Thank you," Dashiell said. "Good night."
The next morning, Ursula began her life as the King's Widow in earnest. After breakfast, which was served in her private dining room, Rebecca and two of the undermaids helped her pick out her garments for the day, while Felecia took careful notes as to what skirt went with what bodice and which sleeves and which underskirt were worn with them. They would make sure she never appeared in the same exact combinations of dress pieces again.
Of course, since she was in mourning, it was unlikely anyone outside the family would see what she wore.
Rebecca had selected a pair of gloves that complimented the gown, but Felecia stopped her.
"I know those are appropriate for Valboroughan royals, but it might be best for you to abandon them here."
"No." Rebecca's voice was firm. "It would be scandalous for her majesty's bare hands to be seen by men."
Ursula touched her Wardrobe Mistress's arm and spoke gently. "Perhaps Felecia is right. I need to do whatever I can to fit in, and I'm afraid the gloves set me apart."
"But Your Majesty." Pink colored Rebecca's cheeks. "What if a man...?" Her voice trailed off, leaving numerous horrible possibilities hanging in the air, unsaid.
"Touches my hand?" Ursula asked, remembering her contact with Gideon the night before. "I think it is something I can live through. After all, the women here seem to manage just fine."
Rebecca said nothing in reply, but the way she stomped back to the wardrobe and slammed the drawer after putting the gloves away spoke volumes.
When the dressing and hair styling was completed, Madame Belinda came into the dressing room. "You are expected to visit the Princesses this morning."
"The Princesses?" Ursula turned to the Protocol Mistress.
"Yes. The daughters of King Killian. Your step-daughters. They are waiting in their apartment."
Now Ursula scowled. "There are two daughters, am I right?"
Madame Belinda and Felecia both nodded.
"And the oldest one, Princess Oriana, is actually two years older than I am?" Gideon had given her a quick lesson in the family members on the way here.
Again, the two servants nodded.
"Why doesn't she have her own apartment?"
"This isn't something we can answer, Your Majesty," Madame Belinda said. "It is a family matter."
"Of course." Ursula shook her head. "I'm sorry, ladies. I am happy to meet the Princesses. Lead the way."
Madame Belinda accompanied her, walking half a step behind so she could offer help and advice as needed.
The Princesses' Receiving Chamber was not as large as Ursula's own, but it was comfortable and welcoming. Three distinct conversational spaces were arranged with two sofas and three matching chairs, each set with an individual color scheme.
The loveseats in the area closest to the door were upholstered in a solid seafoam fabric, and the three chairs were done in a pink embroidered with leaves the same green color. A darker pink rug sat under a glass table, and pillows of that color decorated the seats.
A tall woman with wide shoulders and a long slender neck stood next to one of the chairs. Ursula knew this was Princess Oriana, King Killian’s elder daughter, because of the silver diadem on her head. She wore a high necked gown in a blue so dark it was almost black. While the fabric was undoubtedly of the highest quality, the dress was plain with no embellishment or lace accents.
Other than the plain circlet, she wore only one piece of jewelry: a pendant made of a dark blue stone the size of chicken's egg which was surrounded by more than a dozen smaller, round black gems. The whole thing hung from a silver chain that seemed too fragile to hold the weight.
The younger Princess, Isabel, stood beside her sister. She wore a simple gown of green and gray with no jewelry at all.
"The Queen has arrived." She grinned as she said it, and Ursula knew this was the traditional way of announcing their visitor. She also saw, in the teenager's face, an innocence Ursula hoped would remain a long time.
"Welcome, Your Majesty." The older woman approached. "I'm Princess Oriana."
Ursula curtsied. "I am so honored to meet you, Your Highness."
"May I present my sister, Princess Isabel." The women in question curtsied in turn.
"Please call me Izzy," Isabel said.
Princess Oriana flinched at the nickname, and Ursula made a mental note not to use it unless she and Isabel were alone.
"Please, Your Majesty, will you sit?" Oriana asked, indicating the chair she'd been using.
"I don't want to take your seat," Ursula said. "I'll be quite comfortable—"
Madame Belinda cut her off. "No. It is Princess Oriana's right to offer you the highest chair in the room. It would be an insult to refuse."
"Oh. Well, then, of course. Thank you." Ursula sat in the chair Oriana had vacated and waited while the Princess gathered her bag of yarn and knitting needles from a nearby table.
"You do us great honor coming to see us."
"The honor is truly mine," Ursula said. "I am sorry it has to be under such circumstances."
"Things are what they are," Princess Oriana said. "Our father, the King, is dead." She looked Ursula squarely in the eye.
"Are you going to proclaim Josiah as the rightful heir?"
Ursula blinked. She'd been in the Sapphire Palace one full day and already she felt as though she had been thrust into the middle of a problem she was expected to solve.
"Isn't he the rightful heir?" she asked. "Is there a reason he shouldn't be crowned?"
"If Josiah takes the throne," Isabel said, dropping into a chair and sniffing. "He will send Oriana to an Elemental convent."
"And that isn't what you want," Ursula guessed. "Is that something he can do against your will?"
"I am all that stands between Josiah and the throne," the elder Princess said. "Well, if I had a son, of course. Even after he becomes King, any son I give birth to would be able to challenge him or his heir. Grand Princess Veronica would do anything to make sure that doesn't happen."
Ursula could believe the Grand Princess was eager to see her son on the throne, but Oriana's emotions were strong. Fear and anger flowed through the Queen's Water Sensitivity so strongly, she moved back in her chair.
"When you say she would do anything..." Ursula began.
"She had my husband killed. Maybe Father, too." Oriana spoke without a trace of hesitation or even sadness. Instead, she was furious.
"Orie." Isabel hurried across the room and fell to her knees at her sister's feet. "Hardison died in the war."
"And who sent him?" Oriana glared at her sister, but Isabel didn't react. "You know Father didn't want him to lead that mission. He told me so himself. Lord Mathias was in command of that company, and he was going to defend Clearlea. At the last minute, Josiah ordered Mathias to the Northern Coast because of some Anamii problems. Hardison's company was sent to Clearlea instead."
Ursula's heart began pounding. Clearlea. A name that had meant nothing but pain for her and her family for the last couple of years, longer for her mother. And now, she knew it meant pain for Oriana, as well. Would these two kingdoms ever be free of the sorrow that war caused?
"That doesn't mean Veronica knew—" Isabel began, but Oriana cut her off.
"She told Josiah to change the orders. She knew Hardison and I were trying to have a child, and she couldn't risk it being a boy."
The Princesses fell silent, and after a moment, Oriana spoke to Ursula.
"I know Josiah is the rightful heir to the throne, based on his place in the birth order, but if Veronica becomes Queen Mother, the kingdom will suffer. She does not stand for anyone opposing her."
Ursula opened and closed her mouth several times before she could find the right words.
"I don't know what you think I can do," she said finally. "I am a stranger here."
"Exactly. It would only make sense for you to investigate. Find out if Veronica did tell Josiah to send Hardison to the Port. While she couldn't know what your father would do there, she knew the battle would be a bloody one. We all did. There was no legitimate reason for my husband to be sent there."
Before Ursula could say anything in response, a footman arrived with tea and cake. As he poured the beverage, Ursula watched her step-daughters.
Was there something to Oriana's accusations or was she so consumed with grief she wasn't thinking clearly? If Veronica did conspire to have the Princess's husband killed, what else could she do to see that her son sat on the throne?
Chapter 20
Gideon sat in the Sapphire Audience Chamber, fidgeting in the uncomfortable military uniform Josiah had decreed he and Damien wear to this meeting with Queen Ursula. Even though he'd never served as a soldier or even as a squire, Josiah had sent a message that, as a Prince of the Blood, he had a responsibility to dress in a manner befitting his rank.
The implication he didn't dress appropriately was clear, and under any other circumstance, he'd have balked and worn whatever he wanted anyway.
However, he felt responsible for Ursula, although no matter how many times he berated himself for it, he couldn't quite figure out why. She made the decision to marry Uncle Killian and come here when she had a myriad of reasons to return to Valborough upon his death.
From what Gideon had seen of that kingdom, she would have been treated better there.
This woman had been strong enough to give up a man she loved, marry a total stranger without even meeting him, and then move to a foreign country to see that her husband be given the respect and proper royal funeral he deserved.
What kind of woman did that?
"Stop slouching." Aunt Veronica's voice broke into his reverie, and without even thinking, he sat up straighter. "I don't understand why my sister would allow you to lounge in chairs like a peasant."
The Queen Mother, as she had taken to calling herself, strode past him to the Mother throne at the end of the Audience Chamber. It was the throne Queen Verity had sat in until her death.
By rights, given his grandmother had been acting as Heyton's sovereign, she could have continued using the Queen's throne after King Lucius's death, but she always contended she was holding the throne for her son, Killian, to take when the wars ended.
Aunt Veronica was making a public show of taking the Queen Mother's throne, telling the world, or at least the world that would see her tonight, that her son was the rightful King of Heyton. As far as Gideon knew, this was a breach of protocol as Josiah had not yet been crowned and Uncle Killian hadn't even been buried yet.
"Where is that woman?" Veronica called to the footmen standing near the entrance. "Didn't you tell her I needed to see her?"
Gideon bit back a grin as the two servants looked at each other and their faces paled.
"Your High...Majes...Highness," one of them said. "You commanded us to tell Queen Ursula that King Josiah wanted to see her."
"Of course." Veronica waved her hand. "Of course, the King wants to see her. I was, of course, speaking for my son."
Of course she was. Gideon wasn't fooled. She desired to sit in the big throne. She wanted to be Queen, but because her twin had been male, she was denied that right. Veronica had been born first, and she never let anyone forget it, not even her own brother and King.
"Her Majesty is on her way," the second footman said.
"Josiah isn't even here yet," Gideon said. "I don't think you need to worry about Ursula yet."
"And you refer to her by her first name." Veronica shook her head, smiling ruefully. "Again, like a peasant."
"And when, dear Aunt Veronica, was the last time you even talked to a peasant?"
His aunt sneered at him. "You were in Valborough too long. You got used to dealing with those people. Surely, peasants can't be any worse."
He stared at her. "You think the royal family of Valborough are peasants?"
"Oh, please." Veronica brushed invisible specks off her skirt. "Their Queen is a Child of the Elements and her consort was a...pig farmer." She said the last as though the words tasted bad.
Gideon opened his mouth to respond to her but changed his mind. Nothing he could say would make any difference to her, even if she heard him. His experience told him she never paid much attention to anything he said or did.
A moment later, Josiah entered the Drawing Room flanked by five or six men Gideon recognized as members of his cousin's household staff. While they were not part of the official Palace staff, Josiah appeared to be keeping his people in place.
From the look on Aunt Veronica's face, she wasn't happy about this.
"Son," she said, a tight smile on her face. "Why aren't you using the First Household Staff? You are the King now."
"I don't trust them." Josiah didn't look at his mother as he climbed the four small steps that led to the King's throne and sat.
Gideon felt a small prickle of irritation at seeing his cousin sitting where Uncle Killian had sat only a few weeks ago.
The man had been as strong as any man Gideon had ever known, even for his age. Well into his fifties, Killian could out ride, out hunt, and even out fight his nephews, Josiah included. There was no logical reason he should have died so suddenly.
All of t
hat might make Gideon feel the situation was wrong, but his feelings weren't important. His uncle was dead, and at this moment, his body was laid out in state in the Throne Room. Tomorrow, Heyton citizens would be welcomed to come in and view the body of their late sovereign.
Just as his grief was about to overwhelm him, Aunt Veronica spoke and brought his attention back to the present.
"You are the King, Josiah. You need to act like it. How do you think those people on the First Household Staff are going to feel when it becomes known you continue to use your own people?"
"Who cares what they think?" Josiah said, scowling. "Send them all away. They served him, so he probably still has their loyalty. I want my people to be named First Household Staff."
"The coronation needs to happen first, big brother."
Knight Prince Damien, dressed like Gideon, strode into the drawing room, his expression one of amusement.
Gideon was surprised to see Damien could walk straight and upright. Many times, that hadn't been the case, even when forced to attend official palace events.
The final members of Aunt Veronica's family, her husband, Duke Zebulon, and their daughter, Princess Amara, were nowhere to be seen. Nor, it seemed, had any other member of the extended royal family been invited to this...whatever it was.
Damien dropped into a chair next to Gideon under the disapproving stares of his mother and brother.
"The coronation means nothing," Aunt Veronica said. "Your brother is King by all rights, and you know it."
"I do," Damien said, tugging on the lace at the end of his sleeves, "but does the King's Widow? She could change things in an instant."
Veronica tsked and shook her head. "It's an unnecessary custom in this case. We know my brother doesn't have any sons that lived, nor does his so-called wife have any knowledge other than what we tell her. Josiah will be crowned just as soon as it can be arranged."
"After my husband's funeral, of course."
Ursula, with the Protocol Mistress right behind, entered the Drawing Room before the butler could announce her, taking Veronica by surprise. The older woman gasped and then addressed her brother's widow.
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