“This was supposed to relax you, not make that furrow bury itself deeper.” Perry nuzzled her neck, his wet curls dripping onto the cold stone floor.
Rolling her eyes, she turned to face her husband, entwining her fingers through his hair. “Only you have the power to distract me, Lord Pettraud, but I must return to matters of state.” Stepping away from him, she surveyed her towel-wrapped self in the mirror. “Such as, what am I going to wear?”
In any other situation, she would think her comment shallow and conceited, but she was about to sit at a ducal table and discuss preparations for the War Council. Regardless of the table belonging to her father-in-law, Jax had to look the part of a Duchess, and she was woefully unprepared. Since she’d visited Ogdam Oasis under the guise of Lady Victoire Rapaste, she’d left her opulent ballgowns and crowns safely behind in Saphire. She’d tucked away the most regal dresses she’d packed for her vacation in the satchel George had carried during their journey here, but they paled in comparison to the finery Duke Pettraud and his horde of sons would be wearing, not to mention any other members of the royal court who would dine with them.
Perry whipped her towel away and raised a coy eyebrow. “I think you look stunning as is.”
Grabbing the damp cloth from him, she swatted him across his backside. “As freeing as this would be, I doubt you want your brothers to drool over the treasure you go to bed with each night.”
At the mention of his family, Perry’s face contorted into a grimace. “Philippe might earn himself another fist to the jaw.”
As much as she wanted to chastise him for the last time he’d lost his temper with his eldest brother, Jax snorted. “It might knock the sense he needs into him.” She wasn’t particularly fond of the heir to the Pettraud throne and didn’t look forward to working with him once he took his father’s place. “But back to the matter at hand. I must present a strong, composed front. I’m prepared to do so with my actions, but appearances are everything in this arena.” She bit her lower lip as she tried to decide how to spruce up the gown she had. “Perry, do you know if any of your mother’s old gowns are still around? Would it be too much to ask to wear one? Duchess Penelope had such incredible style.”
Just as she feared, her husband stiffened at the hesitant request. She thought he wasn’t even going to respond, when he finally sighed. “As much as Mother would have loved the idea of sharing her clothes with her daughter-in-law, I’m afraid her belongings are off limits.” Seeing Jax’s crestfallen expression, he sputtered. “N-not because of me. No. Father keeps her things locked away from us all.” He gave her a quiet smile. “Otherwise, I’d be happy to offer them to you…” He trailed off before snapping his fingers. “But I do have an idea.” He threw on a white tunic and linen pants and was nearly out the door before he turned to explain, “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
The door of their spacious suite clicked shut before she could get another word in. With a sigh, Jax settled onto the vanity seat, going to work on twisting her hair into a glamorous updo. Wishing she had Vita and Uma here to assist, she did the best she could with what little she had. With no makeup on hand, she pinched her cheeks until they flushed in protest. Not bad, but not great. She gazed helplessly across the bedroom that blended into a welcoming sitting room. Her amethyst eyes lingered on the dying fire for only a moment before she was out of her seat and hurrying toward the gaping fireplace. Gripping the iron poker, she skillfully batted a piece of charcoal away from the blaze. Waiting until it had cooled, she gingerly touched her fingertip to the crumbing black nugget and went to work smudging it around her upper eyelids. The effect was much more sultry than was needed for the gathering, but it heightened her beauty tenfold. Perhaps her dining companions wouldn’t notice her lack of a crown.
Just as she was swiping lavender oil over her lips as a makeshift gloss, Perry loped back into the room, winded but triumphant.
“What in Virtues have you been up to?” Jax pulled herself away from the vanity mirror.
“Visiting with an old friend.” Perry stepped aside, revealing a smiling, stout matron. “Duchess, I’d like to introduce Madame Neasa.”
Glad she had thrown on a robe while getting ready, Jax stood and moved to shake hands with the middle-aged woman.
“It is a pleasure to meet such an icon,” Neasa’s voice trembled with true excitement. “Please don’t ever tell the Duke I said this, but I was so jealous when you selected Monsieur Duval as your royal tailor.”
Jax’s eyes brightened as she realized who Perry had brought to aid her. If anyone could help spruce up the gowns she’d packed, it would be a royal tailor. “It is very lovely to meet the woman who imparted such a sense of style to my husband.” She often teased Perry for the attention he paid to his appearance, but in this moment, she was grateful for his connections.
Looking extremely proud of himself, Perry motioned to the bulging satchel that rested on the ground near Madame Neasa’s feet. “I think she’ll be able to whip you into shape, my dear.” He picked up the garment bag and brought it inside the sitting room. “Goodness, what do you have in here, Neasa? Cannonballs?”
The woman chuckled as she shooed him away from her things. “I didn’t know what tools may be required, so I came prepared.” She glanced up at the Duchess. “May I see the gown you need altered?”
It only took Jax a moment to retrieve the purple-and-gold dress, which she considered the most elegant of her choices.
Madame Neasa’s lips curled in a hungry smile. “Oh, I can work with this.” She pulled reams of fabric from her bag, accompanied by swollen sacks of gemstones and adornments. Mesmerized by the woman’s skill, the plain evening gown transformed into a sparkling masterpiece before Jax’s eyes.
“Now you know why I give Duval such a hard time,” Perry murmured in her ear, her neck tingling under his chuckling breath.
Within an hour, Neasa produced the finished, altered dress, and Jax wouldn’t have believed they were one and the same if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. The tailor had added additional layers of emerald and silver fabric, creating the perfect marriage of Saphire and Pettraud colors, all while enhancing the size of the skirt. Glittering jewels had been stitched around the neckline, alleviating the need for a necklace or any type of jewelry…which Jax did not have to begin with.
“The Virtues bless you.” Jax kissed the woman’s cheek as the tailor departed, her arms full of Jax’s other gowns for alteration.
“I’ll have these to you in the morning,” she said with a wave and disappeared down the dark hall.
Lacing up the modified gown with help from Perry—whose fingers often strayed from their given task—Jax finally felt presentable. Appraising her glowing reflection in the full-length mirror, she prayed to the Virtues that the shimmering jewels, figure-enhancing ball gown, and her rimmed eyes and pinched cheeks would be enough to assert her power and authority without the aid of her crown.
“You look breathtaking.” Perry kissed the exposed nape of her neck. “You might as well go naked, for everyone will still be drooling over you.”
A satisfied smile spread across her face. “If you don’t hurry up yourself, you will be the one going without clothes.”
A servant had appeared earlier with a selection of formalwear Perry had left behind at the palace after his move to Saphire. As much as Jax wanted her hands to wander as she helped him into his dark green suit, she kept her focus, and he was dressed within minutes.
Extending his arm for her to take, Perry took a deep, bracing breath. “Are you ready for this?”
Her head held high, she clasped his forearm. “Lead the way.”
‡
George paced the length of the small chamber that connected the room he’d been assigned to Jax and Perry’s royal suite. He sported a well-cut black tunic with gold trim and matching trousers. His suit was nowhere as regal and formal as the one Perry wore, but it was sharp enough for a Captain of the Ducal Guard to get away with. His face was
clean-shaven, making the unease etched into it all the more evident.
“I’m glad to see Shavon was able to rustle up something for you to wear.” Perry slapped the worried warrior on the shoulder, trying to lighten the mood.
“Do you think all your brothers will be joining us?” Jax asked Perry, hoping he could illuminate what the upcoming dinner might be like.
Perry rolled his eyes. “Who knows. Considering Father can rarely keep us all on a leash when we dine together, I doubt he’ll let the whole brood attend tonight’s meal.”
Jax’s relief was short-lived.
“If I had to guess,” Perry continued, “I’d say we need to prepare ourselves for Philippe and Ivan’s company, at least.”
Ivan seemed pleasant enough, but Philippe could cause more problems than she wanted to deal with at the moment. “Well, let’s hope the Virtues are in our favor and we make it out unscathed.”
Perry escorted her and George through the myriad of stairwells and hallways, the stone fortress sinking deeper and deeper into darkness now that the sun had vanished on the horizon.
“Thank goodness you know the way around,” Jax said, leaning into the comforting warmth of her husband.
He chuckled. “I suppose that’s why Shavon didn’t come collect us himself.”
The High Courtier stood in front of two massive oak doors, nearly twice the height of George, the tallest of their small group. He greeted her with a bow. “Duchess Jacqueline, the Duke is ready for you.”
Jax concealed her surprise that Duke Pettraud was already in the dining hall. Usually, when a foreign dignitary visited, the host was the last to enter. Unsure why he would go against royal protocol, Jax arranged her face into a serene smile and nodded to the courtier that she was ready.
Shavon tapped three staccato beats on the door, and it responded by swinging formidably into the grand dining hall. “May I announce Her Illustrious Highness, the Duchess of Saphire and the Isla DeLacqua isles, accompanied by Lord Percival Pettraud, Prince Consort.”
Shavon’s words echoed around the great room with authority. The latest addition to her title still sounded a bit strange to her ears. She was accustomed to being addressed as Duchess of Saphire, as she had been born into that role, but only recently had she come to acquire the Duchy of Isla DeLacqua, the realm’s only island nation.
Jax’s keen gaze swept the length of the stately table, counting eight faces staring expectantly at her as they stood for her grand entrance. With Perry at her side, she floated over to the head of the table, toward the outstretched, welcoming arms of Duke Pettraud. Giving him her full attention for the moment, she leaned into kiss his cheeks in a warm greeting.
“Jacqueline,” he said with a gravelly voice, “it is good to see you looking well in light of the excitement you encountered in Kwatalar.”
Musical laughter cascaded softly over her lips. “‘Excitement’ is certainly one word for it.” She assessed his regal features. His gaze was tinged with fatigue, but otherwise he appeared strong and resolute, bearing a striking resemblance to his youngest son. “I am grateful to be here in your esteemed company, Duke Pettraud.”
Her host turned his attention to Perry and gave him a hearty hug, startling both Jax and—from the look on his face—Perry. “Percival, my boy, I see married life is treating you well.”
“Yes, Father,” Perry managed to say despite the Duke’s firm embrace.
Pulling away, the Duke gave them both a beaming smile. “Come now, you must be famished from your journey. Ivan tells me you rode horseback the entire way. Quite a feat of endurance, Jacqueline.”
She blushed. “I have always enjoyed the sport, although I can safely say I’ve had enough of it for a while.” She moved to the vacant seat on her father-in-law’s right, which Perry held out for her before claiming the next chair. George had taken a seat toward the middle of the table, next to Ivan.
“I’m sure some introductions are in order.” Duke Pettraud motioned to his oldest son, seated on his left. “You remember Philippe, of course.”
Wideset eyes bore into her as she smiled primly at the man across the table. “Good to see you again, Philippe,” Jax lied with ease. There was something about the man that continually set her on edge.
Philippe ran a hand through his pale blond hair, the tips of which skimmed his broad shoulders. “Duchess.” His succinct greeting indicated he harbored the same reservations toward her.
“And I’m sure you remember Elias and Kaul.” The Duke pointed to the two men seated next to Philippe.
Kaul was the second youngest of the Pettraud clan and shared the most familial resemblance to Perry, although he was lanky and probably twenty pounds underweight. He was barely visible in Elias’s hulking shadow. With close cropped dark hair and a bulky, muscular build, Elias looked the part of a thug or hired guard, rather than a prince.
Jax nodded in greeting, but before she could make any small-talk with either brother-in-law, the Duke moved on to the next guest, sitting beside Kaul.
Even if she had seen him in a setting outside the palace, Jax would have no trouble guessing the strapping man was one of Perry’s brothers. His dark curls were more closely cut and styled than Perry’s ever were, but there was no mistaking the same chiseled cheekbones and perfectly sloped nose. Seeing them all in the same room, this brother resembled Perry even more so than Kaul.
“I’d like to introduce you, Jacqueline, to Galahad.” The trace of pride in his voice made Jax suspect the Duke treasured Galahad slightly more than he did Elias or Kaul.
Galahad dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “It is a pleasure to finally meet my famed sister-in-law. I have heard much about you from my brothers who were lucky enough to attend the wedding.” A teasing grin graced his lips.
Jax immediately felt at ease with his lighthearted banter. “I hope it wasn’t all bad things you’ve heard.”
Galahad chuckled. “Quite the opposite. Kaul said he’d never seen anyone handle so much pressure with such grace.”
Touched, Jax sent Kaul an appreciative smile, causing his pale complexion to erupt red. “It was a shame you couldn’t join us for the festivities,” she said, turning back to Galahad.
He sent a sidelong look toward his father. “Blame him. He’s the one who ordered me to stay back.”
Duke Pettraud shook his head at his son’s jesting accusation. “Galahad is in training to become a High Courtier, and what better time for him to learn how to puppeteer a duchy than when its sovereign takes his leave?”
“High Courtier?” Jax’s gaze darted to Shavon, analyzing his stoic expression. “Under your tutelage, sir?”
“Indeed,” Shavon answered with a slight bob of his chin.
Serving which duchy, I wonder? Jax shuddered at the thought of Philippe and Galahad leading Pettraud into the future. Without even knowing Galahad’s politics, she knew nothing good ever came from putting two brothers in powerful positions. It had been done before in the history of the realm, but each pairing always ended with one brother losing his head.
Shaking her dark thoughts away, Jax realized the Duke had continued his introductions down the table, despite her inattention. “This is our court physician, Mistress Lenora.”
Jax acknowledged the reserved woman sitting to Perry’s right. Lenora’s salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a loose bun, emphasizing her long neck and sweeping cheekbones. In her youth, she must have been quite the beauty, and she still cut a handsome figure now. Her olive skin made Jax wonder whether she was originally from Pettraud or one of the southern duchies.
“And this is Lady Sabine,” the Duke said with finality, motioning to the last unfamiliar person at the table, seated between Lenora and Ivan.
Jax couldn’t be more grateful to Perry for arranging something suitable for her to wear, for Sabine’s elegance and finery would have put her traveling clothes to shame. The young woman looked no older than twenty-five, radiating youth and innocence from her serene face. Her hair was whit
e-blond, and her amber eyes were ringed with telltale violet, revealing her bloodline was somehow connected to a ducal house. She was very pretty, and it didn’t take a keen observer to see how the eyes of some of the unmarried Pettraud brothers hungered after her.
“An honor to meet you, Duchess Saphire.” Sabine bowed her head with regal grace.
“Please, call me Jacqueline.” Jax waited for further explanation as to who Sabine was, and when none came, she pressed onward. “Are you a friend of the family?”
Duke Pettraud’s reaction garbled in his throat. “Curious as ever, Duchess. I see you haven’t lost your touch.”
“Considering recent events,” Jax said, her eyes narrowing slightly, “it would be wise for me to know who I am dining with.”
“Right.” The Duke reached for his fork and knife, unfazed by her retort. “Lady Sabine is the daughter of my wife’s lady-in-waiting.”
Jax nodded, waiting for more.
“We invited Lady Astrid to stay on at the palace after my wife’s death, as well as Sabine,” the Duke explained.
“My mother and the Duchess were cousins,” Sabine interjected with refined finesse, her voice a musical trickle. “Recently, my mother has fallen ill with what we suspect is the same disease the Duchess suffered from. Duke Pettraud has graciously offered Mistress Lenora’s services to make Mother comfortable in these final months.”
Jax brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes flashed to Perry. He struggled greatly after his mother’s passing, and Jax hoped the references to her illness would not bring him pain. “Can nothing be done?”
Lenora cleared her throat as she tugged at the sleeves of her healer’s robes. “I’m afraid this is an aggressive illness. All I can really do is ease Lady Astrid’s suffering.”
“It’s been a great comfort to her, knowing I’ll be looked after,” Sabine said, a grateful smile curling on her plump lips. “The Duke has been so generous.”
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