"Princess Ursula, how lovely you look this afternoon. I'm gratified to see you have chosen to forgo the inappropriate dresses you brought from Valborough. You look almost royal."
"It's Queen Ursula, as you well know. Before I arrived, I had no idea my wardrobe was considered inappropriate. Women here wear such overdone dresses. A little warning would have been polite."
"I beg your pardon, but you must understand your situation is quite problematic. Without a wedding held in our own chapel, overseen by our own priests, we can't be certain you were truly married to my brother. It wouldn't do to send royal gowns to a woman who might be trying to steal from the palace."
"I won't listen to any more of this," Ursula said, straightening her back. "I am the King's Widow. I don't know why you insist on playing this game of questioning my right to be here or to act as the King's Widow, as stipulated by your own customs. I have no intention of undermining your son's claim to the throne, but I won't be disrespected by a woman whose power comes from telling her sons what to do."
"You little..." Veronica sprung to her feet and took a step toward Ursula. Josiah stopped her by grabbing her arm.
"Mother, the King's Widow has a point. Please sit."
"Josiah?" His mother stared at him, but slowly, she retook her seat.
Gideon bit back a chuckle, but Damien didn't bother to be as polite.
"She told you, Mother," he said, grinning. "Maybe you could stop trying to manipulate everyone into believing Uncle Killian didn't marry a Princess from Valborough. We all know that was his plan. We all know he sent Gideon to stand in for him. Isn't it time to welcome his widow into the family and get him in the ground?"
"Damien, you will show my brother the respect he deserves."
"Begging your pardon, Mother. I meant no disrespect, but we can't move on with the business of the kingdom until after his funeral, and apparently, Queen Ursula wants to see he gets a proper one."
"And I don't?"
"All I've heard is how eager you are to get my brother crowned King."
"I do think," Ursula said, "we need to see to my husband's last wishes before we can have a coronation. Now, I believe I was summoned here. If it was for this kind of family squabbling, I think I'll go back to my apartment." She moved toward the door.
Madame Belinda's face had gone quite pale.
"You will not turn your back on your King," Veronica cried, and Ursula looked over her shoulder at the older woman.
"I'm sorry, Grand Princess Veronica, but I was under the impression there was no interest in the Heyton court in recognizing my right to be here. If I am not the King's Widow, then I don't believe this man is my King." She faced the door again and took a step to leave.
"Wait. Stop it, both of you." This came from Josiah, and Gideon grinned.
Ursula turned back around, her eyebrows raised. "Yes, sire?"
Veronica stared at her son, her face red, almost bordering on purple.
"Are you commanding me?" she demanded.
Josiah sighed. "I think I would rather lead a charge into a hostile battlefield than deal with two women fighting over the same tiny bit of power."
"There is no fight," Veronica said, sneering at Ursula. "I am the Queen Mother, the most powerful woman in the kingdom."
"Until I marry," he said. "However, that is not the point. You two are giving me a headache, and if I'm King, then it is an extremely bad idea to give me a headache. Ursula married our uncle, your brother, and our late King. Therefore, she is the King's Widow, and never again will you address her as Princess or suggest her claim to the title is questionable. Is that understood?"
Veronica stared at her son, but after a moment, she nodded. "It is, Your Majesty."
"Queen Ursula," Josiah said, turning to face her. "We recognize your position in this palace is an unusual one, but it is customary for the King's Widow to declare the rightful heir to the throne. As much as we would like the coronation to take place as soon as possible, for the good of the kingdom, it is also important for the people that tradition be upheld. Therefore, we will wait one month from the time of King Killian's funeral to allow you to find your place in the palace before we set the coronation. Is that acceptable to you?"
Ursula curtsied. "It is, Your Majesty. Thank you. I promise to give the matter of the rightful heir my full attention."
"Thank you." Then Josiah spoke to his mother. "Are you satisfied?"
Her facial expression said she wanted to kill someone, but she nodded and said, "I am, my son."
"Fine. This was not how we thought this meeting would go, but we are tired of the bickering. You are all dismissed. The entire royal family will have dinner together in the formal dining room. Gideon, make sure your parents and sister attend."
"Of course," Gideon said, inclining his head toward Josiah.
"Thank you. You're all dismissed."
After her official audience with the Exarch, Ursula went back to her quarters, and, just like after her meeting with the Princesses, Felecia and Rebecca rushed to change her into fresh clothing. Again, the women wrote in a large ledger book what items she wore.
"These sleeves are beginning to fray at the cuffs," Felecia said, examining the items Rebecca had handed her.
"How is that possible?" Ursula asked. "Today was the first time I've worn them."
Felecia set down the pen she was using and folded the sleeves in half, handling them as though they were made of fine crystal. "They belonged to Queen Charlotte. According to the records, she wore them to every noble's home in this region. They need to be taken from your wardrobe."
Ursula didn't know what to question first; why she was wearing her predecessor's clothing or why Felecia had said the sleeves were fraying when they were almost like brand new.
The Dressing Mistress must have seen something in her expression because she hastened to add, "The royal seamstresses haven't finished making the wardrobe you will wear after the period of mourning. However, there won't be many new things, as most of the clothing budget for the royal family was used for Grand Princess Veronica's mourning and coronation garments. It is unseemly for the palace to be discarding items of clothing that are still wearable, but custom demands you not be seen wearing the same thing too often.
"We will record that the sleeves were frayed, but it is your prerogative to gift them to a member of your staff."
So many things she had to get used to. Ursula sighed, but didn't argue. "Who should I give them to?"
"It is tradition you give your used clothing to one of the maids who serves you, or in the case of items worn to special events, a commoner."
"How does that happen?"
Felecia and the undermaids exchanged looks, but the Dressing Mistress answered. "On your birthday, we gather all the clothing items to be given away, and you go out to the Queen's garden. Some of the villagers will be there, and you pass the things out to them."
Fortunately, Ursula's birthday was some months away so she put that out of her mind. "If you would like the sleeves, Felecia, you may have them."
"I think they should be given to Shirley." She nodded toward the young woman who was holding the last of six petticoats Ursula needed to wear. "She has never received a gift of Queen's clothing."
"Fine," Ursula said, smiling at the maid, but in reality, she couldn't care less what happened to the sleeves. The whole thing seemed designed to waste some of the Queen's time, which, she realized, might just be true.
After dressing, it was time for the mid-day meal, which, again, Ursula ate in her private dining room. The maids and Ladies left so they could eat with the rest of the palace staff or run whatever errands were needed. Madame Belinda stayed with her but sat, reading, in a corner.
When she finished eating, Ursula wandered around her apartment, thinking about and discarding the idea of starting a new needlework project. She felt out of sorts and out of place.
"Your Majesty," Madame Belinda said, looking up from her book after Ursula walked past her
for the fourth time. "While the family is in mourning and officially confined to the palace, there's no reason you have to stay in your rooms. This might be a good time if you wanted to pay your respects to His Majesty."
Ursula stared at the Protocol Mistress. "Of course. I should have done that before. Can you show me where the Throne Room is?"
Madame Belinda stood. "It would be my honor. You should have a veil for your hair, however. It is considered inappropriate for a widow to visit her husband's body or his grave with her head uncovered."
"Thank you for that, Madame."
Belinda hurried to the dressing room and returned with a sheer gray scarf that matched the official mourning color. Ursula wasn't sure if this was one of the scarves she'd owned in Valborough or a gift from someone in the royal family who knew she wouldn't have the right color.
After making sure her head was covered correctly, Ursula followed the Protocol Mistress out of her apartment and down two flights of stairs to the ground floor where the public areas of the palace were.
"The Throne Room is at the end of that hallway," Madame Belinda said, pointing. "I will let you have your privacy as only the royal family is allowed to be with the body until the public viewing tomorrow. If you need me when you're finished, I will be waiting in the hall."
"That's not necessary," Ursula said. "I think I can find my way back to my rooms alone."
"Your Majesty, it my duty to assist you whenever you might need it. The palace is quite full these days with dignitaries and other guests who have come for the funeral of King Killian and in anticipation of the coronation. It wouldn't be proper for you to encounter one of these guests and not know how to address them. This would cast the Sapphire Palace and the royal family in a dark light."
"Of course." Ursula stifled a frustrated sigh. She'd thought she'd never get to be alone when she lived in her father's palace, but home was not like this. At least, she'd be given some privacy with her husband's body.
Or so she thought. When she reached the door of the throne room, the guards hesitated before letting her inside.
"You do know who I am?" she asked.
"Of course, Your Majesty," one of the guards said.
"Then you know I should be allowed to see my husband's body alone."
The man swallowed and looked at his companion, but the other guard kept his eyes facing out into the hall as though he were unaware of the conversation happening right next to him.
"I...it's just that..." The guard's blushed, and Ursula rolled her eyes. This had to be Veronica's doing.
She took a deep breath. "There is no reason to keep me from seeing my husband's body. Move aside."
"But Your Majesty..." Sweat covered his forehead. She hated causing him distress, but she had to make it clear she was the King's Widow and was to be accorded her due respect.
"I'm going inside now."
With a quick nod, he moved and opened the door for her.
And that's when she saw the cause of his hesitation.
A woman she'd never seen before was draped on top of the glass casket that held Killian. Wails of pure agony sounded as though they were being ripped out of this woman's body.
Who, other than family, would mourn so deeply for this man?
Ursula took a step toward the body, and the door to the throne room closed behind her. The quiet click startled the stranger who stood and spun around.
"Who are you?" she demanded, sniffling but making no moves to wipe away the streams of tears soaking her cheeks. "No one is allowed in here other than family. You'll have your chance to see him tomorrow when the public pays their respects."
"I'm sorry," Ursula said, "but there has been some kind of mistake. I am Queen Ursula, his wife...widow."
The woman's eyes grew wide, and she screamed, rushing at Ursula, her long, bright red fingernails aimed at the Queen's face.
"You," the woman yelled.
Her cry must have alerted the guards, or perhaps they anticipated something like this happening, because one of them jumped in before she reached Ursula. He pulled her away, while she continued to scream.
"You couldn't love him like I did. You were nothing to him. I should be his widow. I should have been his wife. He loved me."
Her words became incoherent as she dissolved into more weeping and sobbing.
Ursula watched as the other woman collapsed to the floor, still being supported by one of the guards. The other man was nowhere in sight, but when Knight Prince Damien appeared a moment later, with Madame Belinda right behind, Ursula realized the guard must have gone for help.
"I will take Princess Yamina back to her quarters, Your Highness," the guard said to Damien.
"Of course," the prince replied, then he asked Ursula. "Are you hurt? Did she attack you?"
"She tried." Ursula watched as the guard had to pull the woman away from the throne room. "Who was that? He called her Princess."
Damien sighed. "First things first. Have you had a chance to see Uncle Killian?"
She shook her head. "I just got here."
"Madame Belinda, I will take care of the Queen for the time being. Thank you."
"Of course, Your Highness."
Belinda left the room closing the door behind her again.
Knight Prince Damien offered Ursula his arm and escorted her to the coffin.
"Would you like to be alone?" he asked.
Ursula sighed and considered the man lying still in front of her. "I don't think so. I didn't know him, so it's odd to be here. I should feel something, shouldn't I?" She glanced at him.
"I think you should feel whatever you feel. You're in a strange situation, so there aren't any rules."
"He looks like a kind man." It was the only thing she could think of to say.
Damien shrugged. "I suppose he was like any other man. He had his kind moments and his not so kind moments." In a gesture that spoke of affection, he brushed the surface of the coffin with his hand. "He was more like a friend to me than an uncle. I guess because he didn't have to treat me like his heir."
"But weren't you expected to be ready if something happened to Josiah?"
"I suppose, but Uncle Killian wanted a son more than he wanted an heir." Damien looked at his uncle's body again. Ursula saw tears well up in his eyes but they didn't spill over. "I think with Josiah as his heir, he used me as a substitute for his son. He taught me all the things my own father never thought I should know." He winked at her. "Like about women."
She considered him for a moment, then tilted her head. "I do believe, Knight Prince Damien, you are trying to flirt with me. Do you think this is the appropriate place for that?"
"Your Majesty, I truly believe if my uncle had gotten to see what you look like, he would be ashamed of me if I didn't try to flirt with you."
In spite of where they were and why, she had to laugh. "I can't believe your mother approves of your antics."
"She doesn't." Damien shook his head. "But I don't think she pays much attention to me at all."
He rubbed the top of the glass casket again then said, "Would you like to take a walk with me? I think there are some things we should talk about."
"Like who that woman was?"
Damien took a deep breath. "Among other things."
Chapter 21
"That was the King's mistress?" Ursula sat on a stone bench surrounded by fields of strawberries, yet in full view of the palace.
Damien took a deep breath. "It is odd, but the Mistress of the King is an official position in the palace hierarchy. When Aunt Charlotte was alive, Uncle Killian kept no mistress because he was deeply in love with his wife. Two years after she died, he took Yamina as his Mistress. It caused quite a scandal."
"Why? Obviously, he wasn't the first King to do that kind of thing."
"No, but usually it's because the marriage was a political one. The Mistress is recognized as the woman the King loves, and while she may have no official power, she has great influence over the King."
"Understandably."
"In this case, the decision to take a Mistress was an unpopular one with both the Council of Ministers and the people. Princess Yamina was a friend of Aunt Charlotte. They grew up together in Ibiran. There are many who believe she is still acting in the interest of her country, rather than ours."
"I didn't realize Queen Charlotte was an Ibiran Princess."
He nodded. "She was a minor Princess, not related to King Constantine. Uncle Killian met her at some sort of diplomatic meeting or other when he was about sixteen. The story is they fell in love instantly, and both kingdoms saw benefit in the arrangement."
"And Princess Yamina came with her to the palace."
Damien nodded. "The title of Princess in Ibrian is one of honor, not of birth, at least in the case of Yamina. She was one of Aunt Charlotte's Dressing Women, maybe the Wardrobe Mistress. I'm not sure. In any case, she and Uncle Killian grew closer over their grief with Aunt Charlotte's passing.”
"Was he in love with her?" Telling George Evan she was going to marry Killian had nearly destroyed her. Had the King gone through something similar when he told Yamina about the wedding?
Damien shrugged. "I don't know, but I doubt he could ever have loved anyone the way he loved Aunt Charlotte."
"But Princess Yamina thought she should have been Queen?"
"Likely." He stared at the strawberry fields, leaning forward so his elbows were on his knees. As he rubbed his hands together, his lips drew together until they were thin lines. Even without her Abilities, she would have known he had something serious on his mind.
"Just say it," she said.
Damien turned to her. "I never have been good at keeping a stoic expression. Mother says that's a bad trait in a Prince."
"Maybe in a politician, but I don't think that's who you want to be."
He shuddered. "No. I'm more than happy to leave the politics to Josie." Then he took a deep breath, and his expression sobered. "That being said, I don't want to see anything happen to endanger the royal family."
Ursula scowled and shook her head. "Are you suggesting I do?"
"Oh, no." Damien sat up straight and shifted his body so he faced her on the bench. "It's Yamina. I mean..." He ran his hands through his hair. "What do you know about Ibiran culture?"
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