Pimpernel_Royal Ball

by Sheralyn Pratt

  “He’s … a backup son?” There was just something sad about that, even if Claire didn’t dare say it out loud in current company.

  “Basically,” Jack said.

  “And a backup father for his brother’s kids?”

  “Yes.” It was Margot who spoke this time.

  “And a backup…king?”

  This time Jack shook his head. “No. Malachi will never be a king. Only an oldest son can be a king, just as only an oldest daughter can be a queen.”

  If possible, Claire was more confused than before, but he saw her make the mental decision to move forward. “Okay. So I guess what I need to know moving forward is whether he’s a good guy or bad guy in all this.” She looked each of her friends in the eye, including Ren. “Do we trust him?”

  Ren shook his head. “Never.”

  Jack looked undecided. “That’s a tough one.”

  To Claire’s surprise, Margot looked thoughtful at the question but didn’t go so far as to say anything.

  “Well, that clears that up,” Claire said, getting a smile out of Margot with her sarcasm.

  “You’ll find Malachi to be a man who follows his own mind,” Margot said after a moment. “You know how they say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”

  Claire nodded. “Yeah?”

  “Malachi belongs in the third, less talked about, category,” she said. “Whether he’s your friend or your foe, he is always playing a long game with total faith that the ends justify the means. That means he will betray an ally and help an enemy if he believes his actions to be for the best.”

  Jack nodded. “She’s right. He’s undermining his father by bringing you here tonight. I can’t tell you why he did it, only that there will be consequences for his actions. His life will get harder—”

  “—which he would have factored into the choice before making it,” Margot added. “So there’s no point in feeling bad for him.”

  “But it still makes no sense,” Claire said, trying to find the right box in her mind for the man. She didn’t like things that couldn’t be sorted, and she found it hard to believe that someone could be genuinely unpredictable. People inherently followed patterns.

  Case in point, she was already pretty sure Malachi would be predictable when it came to Margot. The two of them had some sort of connection everyone was talking around. Claire was just about to bring it up when Margot distracted her with an interesting detail.

  “With Malachi, things only make sense in retrospect.”

  Now that Claire could work with.

  “It’s one of the things that makes him so dangerous,” Ren bit out. “I don’t trust him for a second.”

  “But his track record is a positive one,” Jack argued. “There are no tales of him causing anyone direct harm.”

  “Only leading them into harm,” Ren muttered.

  Jack nodded. “True. He opens doors, but he never forces people through them.”

  His words sparked up memories of Claire’s conversation with Malachi back in Las Vegas. “That’s what he did earlier tonight in Margot’s office.”

  That caught Jack’s attention. “You were in Margot’s office?”

  Claire felt her cheeks pink as she nodded. “I tried to use the system to find the two of you.”

  Jack and Margot shared a look of concern.

  “Did you happen to trip any of the alarms going in?” Margot asked, clearly thinking of something specific, even though her words were vague.

  Claire immediately thought of the countdown clock on the wall. The one that zeroed out right before Malachi had appeared.

  “I told Ace to let her in if her attempt was good enough,” Malachi’s voice said from the doorway. Margot jerked around in surprise, Ren’s hand flexed, and Jack’s chin came up half a notch at his appearance, but the man gave no notice. “Claire was good enough to bypass a traditional system, so she was allowed to enter. Ace locked up after we left.”

  “You told her about Ace?” Margot didn’t sound mad when she asked, but maybe a little jealous.

  “They met,” Malachi said simply, stepping further into the room.

  Jack stepped protectively between Malachi and Claire. “No point in you being here unless you plan on clearing a few things up.”

  Malachi’s perfect brow arched. “Such as?”

  “Why did you bring Claire here tonight?”

  “Because I believe people deserve a right to choose their own fate,” he said, focusing in on Jack. “Didn’t you just say yourself that I open doors for people, and they get to choose if they want to walk through them?”

  Ren shook his head. “It’s always a trap with you.”

  “It’s always my endgame,” Malachi corrected, his green eyes pinning Ren down as if he’d spoken out of turn. “Whether or not you fall into a trap of your own making along the way is up to you.”

  Ren’s nostrils flared in anger, but he didn’t seem to have a quick comeback for that.

  “Is Ren right?” Jack asked. “Is this a trap?”

  Malachi considered that then shook his head. “No. I’m offering Claire a narrow path, similar to the one the rest of us are walking.”

  Jack looked skeptical. “Against your father’s wishes? I don’t buy it.”

  “What’s the endgame?” Margot asked.

  Claire’s eyes dropped to Malachi’s thumb, checking for his nervous tic, but it stayed away from his ring as he replied. “Where’s the free will in telling you all of that?”

  “Well, maybe we’re at a point here where we’d prefer a sneak peek over free will,” Margot said. “Ever think of that?”

  “Always,” Malachi said softly, and Claire believed him.

  In that moment, it struck her how lonely Malachi must be. It was the only commonality to everything she’d observed about him that night.

  Yes, eyes had followed him like a celebrity when they’d entered the ball, but no one but his mother had greeted him. If Malachi had allies, they weren’t public about it, and his relationships with his servants seemed to be respectful but professional. Add all that to Jack’s claim that he was straining relations with his father by bringing her, and the only person Claire could think of who Malachi might have a personal relationship with was his mom.

  Yet even she hadn’t known what Malachi was up to tonight.

  Claire took in the man’s perfect visage with a new eye, realizing it, too, was strategic. A costume. A role.

  Did anyone see the real man underneath it all?

  If not, what was he hiding, and why?

  Claire could see why Ren didn’t trust him.

  “It’s fun to watch the wheels turn in your head,” Malachi said, smiling at Claire from across the room. “It’s a shame we’ll have to train you out of doing that.”

  “Are you here to flirt with Claire, or help her?” Margot snapped.

  “Help her, of course,” Malachi said evenly. “Or at least open a door. The rest is up to her, if she decides she wants this life.”

  “I do,” Claire said, surer of that than anything else in her life. If there were skills to learn to help her become as amazing as Jack, Margot, and Ren, Claire wanted in on that. She might never be strong, like Ren, or borderline psychic, like Margot, or a master illusionist, like Jack, but she definitely wanted to know anything Malachi could teach her.

  “Are you sure?” Malachi teased. “Ren will say I led you into a trap when things get rough later. And they will get rough. No one in this room will tell you otherwise.”

  Claire didn’t need to look around the room for confirmation. Jack had lectured her on the downfalls of joining his life for more hours than she could count. But the truth was it was only when caught up in a case that Claire felt as if she was living up to her potential. Margot had been one of the first to observe that when Claire was thrown into a situation—without having the chance to obsess beforehand—she was quite clearheaded.

  The smaller her world, the larger her anxieties and need for
control. But throw her into a mountain palace with the richest people on the planet and somehow she held it all together. She hadn’t counted anything since seeing the windows outside, and the only time she’d counted to three since coming in was while they were waltzing. She’d actually forgotten to do it while walking down the stairs. The mirrors were far too fascinating.

  For whatever bizarre reason, she was more functional in Jack’s world than the one she was born into. Even if she had never met Jack, she’d want to step into that.

  It was impossible to convince Jack of that, it seemed, but it was true. And if Jack wouldn’t see that, maybe Malachi would.

  “I’m certain,” she said, making sure Malachi saw the answer reflected in her eyes. “But Jack says you’re a second son and have no say in whether I’m hired or not.”

  “Technically true,” Malachi said.

  “No,” Margot corrected. “Totally true. Your father will make that call. Or, if not him, Oz will.”

  Malachi sent her a cautionary look. “He hates being called that.”

  The comment got a rare eye roll out of Margot. “Well, be sure he has his people call my people to tell me so I can make a note of that.”

  “You could try talking to him yourself.”

  Margot’s only response was to laugh, and Claire felt the conversation teetering back into bickering territory. Jack was the one who stepped in to get it back on track.

  “Can we get back to Claire, and why you brought her tonight?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Claire agreed. “How do I fit into all this?”

  “You don’t,” a new voice boomed from the doorway, dripping with disdain. Margot flinched to attention and Malachi stilled before turning to face the door.

  Chapter 16

  Jack

  Jack bowed his head out of habit at the appearance of his boss, while everyone else kept their backs straight and chins up. Except Claire. Her chin was hanging a little bit as she took in the sight of the silver-haired king dressed up like an eighteenth-century gentleman.

  Usually honored to have an audience with Arthur, Jack felt himself panic at his appearance.

  People came to Arthur; Arthur didn’t come to them. The fact that his boss had sought them out in a backroom at a party was evidence enough that he was angry. Very angry.

  “Father,” Malachi said. “So good of you to join us.”

  A literal chill filled the air as Arthur moved into the room, eyes dark with anger directed at exactly one person. Malachi.

  “Don’t be obtuse,” he sneered. “Do you know how much embarrassment you’ve caused me already tonight?”

  “Don’t worry, Father,” Malachi replied. “The night is young.”

  The instances where Jack didn’t know what to do were few and far between, but this moment was quickly becoming one of them. He was sworn to Arthur, yes, but Malachi’s offer to hold the metaphorical door for Claire seemed genuine.

  A door that Arthur wanted to shut for some reason.

  “You’re leaving,” Arthur commanded Malachi just as Prince Abed’s entourage passed the doorway on their way back up to the pedestal.

  Time was up? So soon? The timing literally could not be worse.

  “Now,” Arthur said. “And you’re taking her with you.”

  Prince Abed reappeared in the doorway, flanked by four knights. The prince seemed to take in the scene with measured looks at all participants, the four knights bringing an aura of credibility to his scrutiny.

  “Funny,” the boy said. “I thought only I gave commands today.”

  Ren was the first to drop to his knee at the boy’s appearance, with everyone following suit a breath later. Jack looked Claire’s way to try to coach her, but she’d already taken notice of Margot’s deep curtsy and mimicked it.

  He couldn’t believe how well she was taking all this. So many curve balls in one night, and she was barely even blinking. Except when she looked at Malachi.

  Jack had to admit he wasn’t a fan of whatever unspoken connection existed between the two. Claire would probably deny it if he brought it up, but even Margot seemed to have noticed how often the two of them shared looks that communicated way too much for two people who had just met.

  Claire clearly wanted to trust Malachi, and Claire didn’t naturally trust anyone.

  Jack didn’t like it.

  The prince let them all hold their bows for a beat, while Arthur glared at his son as if he’d planned the moment. Which of course he hadn’t.

  Had he?

  With Malachi, you never knew.

  “Rise,” Prince Abed said, assuming both the tone and posture of authority. He wasn’t done with the room. “Please share what was being decreed in my absence on my Day of Anemone?”

  Wow. The kid was gambling big. On every other day of the year, Abed bowed to Arthur just as quickly as Jack did. As king of their shared banner, Arthur’s judgment was not questioned.

  And yet the boy was standing tall and questioning it. It was a move that could either earn mad respect or terrible wrath.

  For the kid’s sake, Jack hoped things played out in favor of option one.

  Everyone rose as Arthur made his diplomatic reply. “My apologies, Your Highness. This is family business.”

  “Under my roof on my Day of Anemone,” the boy pointed out, looking at everyone in turn. “Including multiple houses and banners. Forgive me for pointing out that this woman you seem to be talking about is not your family, nor is she of our banner. I don’t need to see her test results to know she aligns with Malachi.”

  The tension in the room rose to levels where Jack had to consciously remind himself to breathe. Only two people seemed to be taking things in stride, Prince Abed and Malachi.

  Arthur, on the other hand, looked ready to punch something but tilted his head in deference to the young prince instead. “Well observed, Your Grace.”

  Prince Abed studied Claire for a moment, and Jack felt his heart hammer helplessly against his chest. He wanted to do something. Anything. Everything. But he could do none of it. He couldn’t even speak unless the prince asked him to.

  All he could do was glare at Malachi and pray the man had thought this all through.

  “It does beg the question as to what she’s doing here,” the prince mused, looking at Claire like she was hieroglyphics he intended to translate.

  “She’s my plus-one, Your Highness,” Malachi said with a tip of his head. “The invitation said I could bring any guest of my choosing.”

  “Yes,” the prince replied. “But the assumption was that it would be someone from among the banners, not a commoner.”

  Well, they all knew what Malachi did with assumptions. Next time the invites might just be a little more specific.

  “I assure you, Your Grace,” Malachi said, ignoring the implied censure. “Claire Ramsey is quite uncommon. Your pimpernel adviser would agree. As would Margot, a future queen.”

  “Sentimental assessments,” Arthur accused. “Not objective ones. I’ve seen Miss Ramsey’s charts, and it is my impartial analysis that she is dangerously unsuitable.”

  Dangerously unsuitable.

  The words echoed in Jack’s ears like a slap. When he looked to Claire to see how she took the claim, she was looking right back with panic in her eyes.

  Dangerously unsuitable? Arthur must have gotten something wrong because Jack had never met anyone more suited.

  “The sentiment you speak of is apparent,” the prince said, sounding unimpressed. “That is why we test each candidate with equal rigor—to ensure personal bias holds no sway.”

  “She’s not good enough to test,” Arthur replied.

  Ouch. Dangerously unsuitable? Not good enough? It was like the man knew right where to aim when kicking Claire in her insecurities. It physically hurt Jack not to speak up on her behalf, but if he did, it would only be used against her.

  This was a conversation for Royals. The only one who could weigh in was Margot, but even she would need to tread
lightly. This had nothing to do with her house or banner.

  “Your Majesty,” Malachi said, still holding his ground with applaudable cool. “Claire is not ready to test because she hasn’t been mentored yet. She has only been nominated as a candidate for the pimpernel’s house.”

  House? Jack could almost see the confusion in Claire’s eyes at the term and he mouthed the word team to her. It wasn’t an exact synonym, but close enough for her to keep up with the conversation.

  “I see,” the prince said, not letting his age get in the way of his authority. Jack got the distinct sense he was looking at one of the few princes who would rise to king one day. “So the candidate is at your discretion because your pimpernel invited her into his house.”

  No! The prince couldn’t give in that easily. Not when Jack had just started respecting him.

  “We understand each other, Your Grace,” Arthur said, no longer sounding annoyed. “I was going to talk to our pimpernel after the party to let him know we are letting his girlfriend go. Malachi knew this and decided to try one of his usual games of subversion. So, like I said at the beginning, this is a family matter.”

  When Malachi stepped forward to object, Jack broke into a sweat for him. “It would be if Claire was of your banner, Father. But she isn’t. She’s mine.”

  Jack’s eyes narrowed at the last two words, physically clenching his jaw not to contradict him as Margot joined the conversation.

  “And Claire has the right to be seen and judged by her own,” she said, eyes all frost. For the first time since walking in the room, Prince Abed looked a little intimidated.

  The boy had good sense for someone his age.

  “The future queen brings up a good point,” the prince said, looking to Arthur. “This candidate is not of our banner, and therefore, not ours to ban. Correct?”

  Arthur took a visibly calming breath. “True, Your Grace. But it is within my right to reject her as my charge.”

  Jack had never seen Arthur so unyielding about something so far below his station. Jack wasn’t really one of those people who believed in people’s birth charts being predictors of their destiny, but Claire’s must really have something going on in it for Arthur to be this adamant.