Chapter 8

MARGE

Fren led me down a quiet corridor on the east side of the palace. The air smelled of old paper and candle wax.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Somewhere you'll like." She smiled over her shoulder. "Trust me."

I had stopped trusting people a long time ago. But her voice was soft, and I followed anyway.

She pushed open a tall oak door. Inside was a library. Shelves climbed all the way to the ceiling. Ladders leaned against them. Dust floated in the golden light from the windows.

"The king's mother built it," Fren said. "Almost nobody comes here anymore."

I ran my fingers along the spines. Some were cracked. Some were so old the titles had faded. As a child, I used to hide in my father's study just to read. After the fire, nobody let me near a book. Zach said they were a waste of my time.

"You can come here whenever you like," Fren said. "No one will stop you."

"Won't the king mind?"

"The king minds a lot of things." She laughed lightly. "But he doesn't mind you."

I turned to her. "You said Corvina was complicated."

Fren's smile thinned. She sat on the arm of a chair and picked at her sleeve. "She loved the king's first love too much. They fought about her death. Corvina says he caused it. He says she did."

"Whose death?"

"I shouldn't say. It's not my place." She looked up at me. Her eyes were so warm. "Just be careful, my lady. In this palace, people smile with one face and plan with another."

"Even Ryan?"

"Prince Ryan is different." She said it quickly. "He's honest. Too honest, sometimes. That's why he gets hurt."

I wanted to ask more. But the door creaked, and a servant stepped in, out of breath.

"Lady Margaret. The king requests your presence at dinner. Immediately."

My stomach dropped. "Me?"

"The council is waiting."

Fren stood and smoothed my dress. "Breathe," she whispered. "Hold your head up. You belong there as much as anyone."

I didn't believe her. But I walked anyway.

The dining hall was loud when we reached the doors. Then I stepped in, and the noise died.

Thirty faces turned toward me. Elders in dark robes. Ladies in jewels. Servants frozen against the walls. I felt every eye crawl over my body, and old shame rose in my throat.

Don't shrink. Don't you dare shrink.

I kept my shoulders back. I kept walking.

Ryan was already standing. His chair scraped the floor. "Margaret."

"I'm sorry I'm late," I said.

"You're not late," a deep voice cut in. "You're exactly on time."

Garret sat at the head of the table. He watched me the way he had last night. Too long. Too carefully. A glass of wine sat untouched in front of him.

"Come," he said. "Sit."

A woman with sharp cheekbones leaned toward her friend. She didn't whisper quietly enough. "Is that the wolf? I heard she can barely fit through a door."

Her friend giggled behind her cup.

My face burned. I felt that old tightness in my chest, the one that begged me to disappear.

Ryan heard it too. His hand slammed down. "Lady Orla. Say that again."

The woman's smile slipped. "I only meant—"

"I know what you meant." His voice was low and dangerous. "This woman is my guest. You will apologize or leave."

"Ryan," I said softly. "It's fine."

"It isn't."

Orla stood slowly, red-faced. "My apologies, Lady Margaret."

"Accepted," I said, though my hands were shaking under the table.

Garret watched all of it. Something moved behind his grey eyes. Pride, maybe. Or fear. I couldn't tell.

"There is a seat beside Corvina," Elder Voss offered.

"No," Garret said.

Everyone looked at him.

He rose from his chair. He walked down the length of the table, his boots loud against the stone. Then he stopped at the foot of the table, where a high-backed chair stood alone. It was carved with silver vines. Dust clung to its corners.

The Queen's seat.

"Margaret will sit here," he said.

The hall went dead silent.

"Father," Ryan breathed.

"My king," Voss stammered. "That chair has been empty for—"

"I know how long it has been empty." Garret never looked away from me. "Margaret has endured enough humiliation for one lifetime. Let her know that in this house, she is not a servant. She is not a joke. She sits where she will be respected."

I stared at the chair. My legs wouldn't move.

Four years in Zach's house. Four years of crumbs and insults. And now a king wanted me at his side like I was something rare.

It scared me more than any insult.

"I can't," I whispered.

"You can," Garret said. His voice dropped so only I could hear. "You have more right to it than you know."

My blood went cold.

More right than I know?

Corvina's fork clattered onto her plate. She looked pale for the first time all evening. Ryan's gaze jumped between his father and me, his jaw working.

"Margaret," Ryan said carefully. "You don't have to do this."

"Let her choose," Garret said.

Everyone waited. The candles flickered. Somewhere behind me, a servant coughed and then froze, as if he'd broken a law.

I looked at Ryan. He gave me the smallest nod. Your choice. Always.

Then I looked at Fren, standing near the wall with the other attendants. She smiled and tilted her head toward the chair. Go on.

I took one step. Then another. The chair was heavier than I expected when I pulled it out. I sat, and the cushion sank beneath me like it had been waiting.

A few elders gasped. Lady Orla looked ready to faint.

Garret returned to his place. He raised his glass. "To our guest."

Nobody lifted theirs.

"To our guest," he repeated, colder this time.

One by one, the glasses rose. Ryan's was the last. His eyes never left his father.

Dinner dragged on. I barely tasted the food. Every bite felt like a trap. Garret asked me polite questions. Did I like my room? Had I seen the gardens? Did I enjoy reading? Each time I answered, he leaned forward a little more, like he was searching for a face under my face.

Across the table, Corvina watched him with something close to horror.

When the plates were cleared, Garret stood again. 

"Before we part, I have an announcement."

"Father, not tonight," Ryan said sharply.

"Especially tonight." Garret ignored him. "In seven days, the palace will host a ball. Every noble house in both realms will attend."

Murmurs rippled across the room.

"And at that ball," he continued, "I will make a decree that concerns Lady Margaret and the seat she now sits in."

My heart stopped.

Ryan went white. Corvina closed her eyes like someone hearing a death sentence. Elder Voss started to speak, but Garret lifted one finger, and the old man fell silent.

I gripped the arms of the chair so hard the silver vines bit into my palms.

"What decree?" I managed.

Garret smiled. It was the first time I'd seen him smile, and it didn't reach his eyes.

"You'll know when everyone else does," he said. "But understand this, Margaret. After that night, no one in either kingdom will ever call you a guest again."

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