A Queen of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 4)

“Correct. Once we are king and queen, we’ll have very little time before we need to officially establish ourselves on the council. If we were to do that now, we’d go in as a poor, broken kingdom. The other kingdoms would view us in low esteem, and it would give Dolion a lot of power over us. They’d side with him, essentially, no matter what we said. We need power and might and financial security if we’re going to have a chance to stand against him.” He took a deep breath. “But the council also won’t wait forever. Time is ticking, and this thing with my mother is slowing everything down. It’s muddling my plans to lift this kingdom onto its feet. Plans that already have a slim chance of success.”

He didn’t say it, but I could read him easily. Why is she doing this to the kingdom?? he was wondering. He must be. I certainly would be.

My dragon rolled within me, and I knew what she was thinking as well: we had precious little time to cure him if he was to show up at that council meeting in all his golden glory.

I sat and waited for him to sit beside me, but he remained standing, reaching down to lay his hand on my shoulder.

“You aren’t going to sit?” I asked softly, not wanting to be overheard in case the guest of horror was nearby.

“I was taught that a gentleman stands until all ladies are seated.”

My heart swelled at his chivalry. Even though he and his mother were at odds, and she posed a threat to both of us, he would keep himself to his high standards.

A swish of fabric had me glancing toward the door. The sparkling necklace she wore caught my eye first.

I turned a little more as Nyfain’s mother walked in wearing a shimmering dress that had probably been made from silk or some equally as expensive and currently unattainable fabric. More jewels sparkled on her earlobes and shimmered around her wrists and on her fingers. She was covered in the things, more gems than I’d ever seen, let alone on one person. Her face had that firm expression Nyfain had worn, and her bearing and poise screamed regal and important. Her hair was done up on her head, and although her face had been heavily made up, her refined beauty shone through. Even without a crown, so did her position.

There was nothing former about this queen.

Oh my god, I was about to have dinner with the queen. Me, a commoner, meeting the queen!

Young me was squealing. A thousand childhood memories crowded me: my make-believe tea parties with the queen, palling around with her son, getting ready for a formal dinner in the castle…

Watch, folks, as the queen sits down to tea with the fine and esteemed Princess Finley.

Fucking hell, my dragon thought. Not that again.

If this wasn’t the perfect time for it, then when was?

Too bad this time the queen wasn’t happy to see me.

My heart sped up, and soon it was racing. Perspiration formed on my brow.

I struggled to call up images of “Ami” in her quaint house or in her backyard in plain clothes, working the plants like anyone else. Now, in this formal dining room with her, watching her glide to her chair, I once again felt completely and utterly out of my depth.

Nyfain ran his palm up my shoulder to rest on his mark. He squeezed, probably to comfort me…or himself. I could feel his anxiety rise like mine. I could feel his uncertainty.

If only Claudile—Delaney—were here to scowl at me so my anger could drown out this annoyingly debilitating, star-struck horror…

A staff member met Arleth at her chair. If she was annoyed not to be at the head of the table, she gave no sign. She sat down gracefully and was helped closer to the table, where she folded her hands into her lap and lifted her gaze slowly to Nyfain.

He ran his thumb across my mark, cutting through my anxiety with a jolt of pleasure, before pulling his hand away and taking his seat. Another staff member made a show of helping him push the chair closer to the table before crossing to the other side of me. The staff member on the queen’s side leaned forward, and then, in a little dance that was almost choreographed but not quite, they took our folded napkins off the porcelain plates in front of us and snapped them out before dropping them into our laps. Nyfain was next, and once his napkin had been dropped into place, the staff members moved away toward a silver tray-stand holding two carafes of a reddish-brown liquid at the other end of the dining room.

“Mother,” Nyfain said by way of greeting before stretching his arm across the back of my chair, just barely low enough not to be awkward for him. “I’m surprised to see you here, in this kingdom. I was told you’d died.”