A Royal Masquerade

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A Royal Masquerade Page 12

by Allison Tebo


  “Not at all, Your Highness,” Valyns had assured him with an amiable smile. “I found it quite a change from my usual duties. Yes, indeed, quite a change. I only ask, sire—that is, if any more of your family ever decide to marry . . .” His eyes had practically sparkled. “Please don’t forget to ask me to officiate.”

  When Colin took it upon himself to intervene in the upcoming nuptials, Windslow had nearly been overcome by shock, which then quickly turned to a barely disguised outrage. Burndee was certain that the old windbag would always bear a heavy grudge against Colin for telling Poppy that he would support her in any decision she made regarding her engagement to Horace. Burndee privately resolved to nag Colin to keep a close eye on the bitter Windslow in the future.

  Poppy was obviously relieved at the reprieve. Horace himself was characteristically quiet about it all—though the doctor had told him to try not to talk very much after he wrapped the duke’s bruised ribs. Windslow had been on top of Horace in the earlier fight for quite some time, and the young duke was beginning to feel it.

  But during all the chaos of the hasty explanations and even hastier arrangements, Windslow ultimately had his way. He suggested that Horace and Poppy might remain engaged for a time, allowing public interest—minimal as it was—to die down so that when the engagement was eventually called off, it could be done with as little scandal as possible. Poppy and Horace, ever-faithful to their respective fathers and their royal duties, indicated a vague agreement to the temporary arrangement that, Windslow assured them, would be mutually beneficial for Radorria and the Dukedom of Windslow.

  In the end, Colin had to leave the two youths in the hands of the avaricious Windslow and the absent-but-much-referenced King Gustav, though Colin assured Poppy that she would not have to marry anyone in the future if she still chose not to—and Poppy thanked him.

  “After all,” whispered Ella to Burndee as they all sat down to the rather cold wedding rehearsal dinner, “it’s possible she could change her mind about marrying Horace.” Ella smiled, ever hopeful. “They might fall in love someday.”

  Cynthia had to perform an emergency maneuver on Burndee after he began choking hysterically on a piece of chicken.

  In the shelter of a rose arbor that dripped plump, pink petals, some bewildered musicians played softly on their instruments. The moon had risen early and it peeped down at the party in Windslake Hall’s gardens. The sky began to darken, shot through with scarlet and gold at the horizon.

  They had all eaten, and despite Windslow’s barely-contained frustration, it was an oddly content group that settled back in their chairs as the Hall’s staff served Burndee’s cream pies.

  Burndee watched a servant slicing one of the pies and noted with infinite satisfaction the smooth, fluffy cream, the perfect crumbly texture of the crust, and the artistic arrangement of berries.

  His inner self-congratulation was interrupted as Colin suddenly leaned over to him and whispered in his ear.

  “Look here, Burndee. I know these social functions . . . people . . . are difficult for you to deal with, and you were trying very hard, so I want to apologize for shoving you into the fountain.”

  Burndee was astonished, but merely tilted his head stiffly. He was frankly gobsmacked, though not nearly as astounded as when he heard himself responding, “And I . . . I must apologize too, for being a fool and not disenchanting you sooner. I was . . .” A word that Fey had used in one of her many rants that he had studiously ignored for years returned to his memory. He mumbled, “Irresponsible.”

  Colin gaped at him and was incapable of speech for ten glorious seconds.

  “You’ve never admitted you were wrong before—ever. What has Ella done to you? You’re a changed man!”

  Burndee glared at him, but he couldn’t correct Colin, because Ella had done something to him and he was a changed man—so he concentrated on maintaining a lofty silence.

  Colin winked at him. “Well, in that case, maybe we can have some more fun before the day is over.”

  Burndee groaned, and Colin laughed in response. “Everything did work out for the best, though, in spite of your irrespons—” Colin had a sudden coughing fit into his water glass, then added, “Er, in spite of everything.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Burndee replied, eyeing him and letting it slide.

  “You know, Burndee,” Colin remarked, “you and I . . . We make a dangerous pair, even when we’re not on the best of terms. I was just thinking, we’d make quite a team if we made it a habit to work together, wouldn’t we?”

  “I believe we would,” said Burndee.

  “Do you foresee a truce somewhere in our immediate future?”

  Burndee raised a cool eyebrow. “Maybe. Perhaps.”

  Then, the two men turned, looked at one another, and grinned.

  EPILOGUE

  S nell shuffled his feet nervously. He knew his employer was not happy about the report. The shadow in the tall-backed chair was ominously silent. Snell shifted from one foot to the other and glanced at the row of windows lining the walls, their velvet curtains thrust back to reveal pane after pane of splintered moonlight. Other than that, a fiercely snapping fire was the only illumination in the room.

  He couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Thanks to that stupid girl and her dwarf, all your plans are ruined! I don’t see how—”

  His employer turned on him, impatient. “It’s true that Lucinda was never part of the scheme. She was ambitious and stupid. She complicated everything. If she weren’t in prison right now, I’d kill her.”

  Snell poked at his collar uncomfortably, as if imagining a noose around his own neck. “At best, she shall be imprisoned for a very long time.”

  His employer let out a sniff of disgust, as if they wished they had a rope at their convenience at that very moment—and that Snell was tied to the end of it. “The whole plan isn’t ruined. I shall simply regroup.”

  “But the door has been shut in our faces,” Snell whined. “The marriage has been called off.”

  “The door of opportunity is never shut. There are other ways to achieve our goals, many ways that fools like you couldn’t possibly imagine.”

  Snell tilted his head, quizzically.

  “They’re still engaged, after all. And besides . . . there’s still Prince Colin’s wife and unborn child.”

  His employer laughed lightly. The fire sputtered and blazed in the grate, illuminating a face so twisted, so dementedly happy, that Snell cringed.

  “Never fear, Snell. Colin isn’t the King of Ambia—yet.”

  Absolutely, Positively Vital Acknowledgements

  The play is over. Please join me in giving a standing ovation to the amazing crew that put together this production!

  My Heavenly Father: No matter who tries to steal my identity, I am a princess because of His unending grace. Thank You, my Prince Jesus, for freeing me from the curse that once bound me and reaffirming again and again that I am royal.

  My mom: You were the final bit of caulking that reassured me that my ship was ready to sail. When I was still feeling uncertain about this story, you understood it completely. Thank you for teaching me to appreciate all kinds of art and stories and for cultivating in me the magic of trying something different.

  My twin: My story doctor and the first one to see anything I write. Thank you for all your advice and calm and objective feedback on what to add and what to keep. Your fantastic guidance made A Royal Masquerade infinitely better and it would not be the story it is without you.

  My real-life knights in shining armor: My dad—thank you for promoting my books and me and for always believing that, with the right amount of selling technique, I could land in the stars. My brother—thank you for being such a faithful, enthusiastic supporter of my books and for all the magic you bring to my stories.

  My sister: The guardian of the hobbit. Thank you for encouraging me to be true to my story and believe in my vision, no matter what.

  My beta readers: Mary, Karis, S
arah Grace, and Angela. Thank you, my dear girls, for helping me polish A Royal Masquerade until it was shiny!

  My cover designer and formatter: Victoria Lynn. Thank you not only for your friendship but for helping me develop just the right design for The Tales of Ambia.

  My copy editor, Andrea Cox: You continue to help me hone my writing and make my work shine while preserving the voice. Thank you not only for your skill, but for your sweet friendship.

  Annabeth Thompson, Lake Dobbs, and Mary Hanna: For the reasons listed in the dedication. You inspire me! Thank you for reading and for being so amazing!

  My librarian, Terri: Thank you for ensuring that The Reluctant Godfather made it to the library bookshelves and making a lifelong dream come true!

  The League of Extraordinary Fairy Godmothers and all of the bloggers that helped me promote A Royal Masquerade: Thank you so much for your support and enthusiasm!

  The readers and reviewers of The Reluctant Godfather: Thank you a million times for your kind words and your generous enthusiasm. Without you, there would have never been a sequel.

  And to you, readers of A Royal Masquerade: Thank you for reading this book. When an audience turns their eyes to a stage, listens closely to the script, and fully engages in an actor’s performance . . . there is always magic.

  About The Author

  Allison Tebo is a Christian author in her mid-twenties. A sales associate for a major transportation company, she writes books in her spare time. A graduate of London Art College, Allison also pursues children’s illustration and cartooning. When she is not creating art with words or paint, she enjoys narration, singing, quilting, and, naturally, baking.

  You can visit Allison at her website, www.allisonteboauthor.com, or her blog, www.allisonswell.com. You can also follow her on Facebook, Twitter, or Goodreads.

  Book One in The Tales Of Ambia Series

  The Reluctant Godfather

  “You humans certainly have your hearts set on being happy don’t you?”

  Burndee is a young and cantankerous fairy godfather, who would rather bake cakes than help humans. A disgrace to the fairy order, Burndee has only two wards entrusted to his care…a cinder girl and a charming prince.

  A royal ball presents Burndee with the brilliant solution of how to make his wards happy with the least amount of effort. He’ll arrange a meeting and hope the two fall in love.

  A humorous and magical re-telling of Cinderella from a unique perspective.

 

 

 


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