Chapter 6

"Her Highness just woke up. Why the rush?" Sylvia questioned with a frown, her voice sharp with indignation.

Lydia made a dismissive sound. "Of course. Her Highness comes from a military family, holds a distinguished position, and had her marriage settled by the king himself. No wonder she doesn't see fit to show Madam Rebecca any respect."

Sylvia's eyes went wide. "When did I say anything like that?"

"If you can't even keep track of what you mean, then don't say anything at all." The woman shut Sylvia down flat, then turned to Vivian. "What do you say, Your Highness?"

By sending someone so sharp-tongued and ready for a fight on the very first morning, Rebecca had made her intentions clear. She wanted Vivian to know her place before the day had even started.

Vivian met the maid's pointed stare and smiled. "Of course I should formally call on Aunt Rebecca."

Her tone was easy and pleasant, but the words landed with a particular weight.

Lydia's eyes shifted slightly downward. "You misunderstand, Your Highness. It's not a formal visit. Just a casual meeting."

Vivian continued as if she hadn't heard, "General Sullivan gave his life to save His Highness. His widow deserves respect, and I have great admiration for Aunt Rebecca. Paying a formal visit to her today is only proper."

Lydia looked pleased with that answer, a satisfied look spreading across her face.

Vivian let her enjoy it for exactly one moment before adding, "So, I'll have to trouble you to make a trip to the palace first."

Lydia blinked. "The palace?"

Vivian smiled and nodded. "Yes. Please inform the king and queen that Aunt Rebecca takes precedence. I'll be formally calling on her before I present myself to Their Majesties."

Lydia froze for a moment, a flicker of panic rising in her chest. Setting aside whether she could even get past the palace gates, if she actually repeated those words to the king and queen, her head would be on the ground before she finished the sentence.

She'd never dare!

As the confidence drained out of her face, she forced a smile. "Your Highness, you jest. His Majesty and Her Majesty always come first."

Vivian kept smiling. "Good. Then, go back and tell Aunt Rebecca I'll come see her when I'm done."

Lydia stood there for a moment with nothing left to say. The orphaned daughter of the Sinclair family looked delicate and gentle, but was clearly not someone easy to bully. Lydia muttered a quiet acknowledgment, then left in a rather sorry state.

Vivian went back to her makeup.

Sylvia leaned in and whispered, "Your Highness, are you actually going to visit Madam Rebecca?"

Vivian picked through the hairpins on the table, considering each one carefully. "She's family, as well as a widow who lost her husband in battle. Of course I'll go. But I'll go when I decide to, not when she summons me."

It was a question of who held the upper hand. If Vivian was already at a disadvantage on day one, then the days that followed would only get harder.

Her sister-in-law, Grace Walker, had taught her that. She had grown up in those old, sprawling families packed with wives, concubines, and competing children. Grace liked to say she'd seen every kind of scheming and backstabbing there was. The battles fought in a household were every bit as brutal as the ones fought on a battlefield.

After marrying into the Sinclair family, she'd found the house refreshingly free of that kind of drama. With nothing better to do, she'd turned her attention to Vivian and started passing things on. As Vivian was the only daughter in the family, her sister-in-law had held nothing back.

In her previous life, Vivian had never made use of any of those lessons. Thinking back on it now, it felt almost a pity.

Now, it was a different story.

Once she was dressed and ready, she had the carriage brought around. Vivian headed out with Sylvia and Lulu Carter, one of the estate's maids. She was just about to climb into the carriage when the shouting reached her.

"I'm not drunk! I'm not! I can drink three more bottles!"

She looked toward the noise. An unfamiliar carriage had stopped just outside the gate, and two young restaurant workers were helping someone out of it. The person they were half-carrying was a young man dressed in expensive, finely made clothes. His hair was a mess, and his sleeves were wet with spilled wine.

He staggered unsteadily to his feet, barely managing to stay upright. With a drunken swipe, he slapped one of the workers away and cursed, "Do you know who I am? Prince Damian is my cousin! The late queen watched me grow up, and I've even met His Majesty in person!"

The worker clutched his face and said nothing. Everyone around the drunken man murmured and fussed, trying to calm him down.

Vivian pursed her lips and turned to Lulu. "That's His Highness' cousin?"

Lulu nodded. "Yes, Your Highness."

She had heard of him. Joshua Sullivan was a notorious playboy who drank heavily and frequented brothels. When she married Damian yesterday, Joshua had been drunk in a woman's arms and hadn't bothered to come back for the wedding at all.

What kind of family had Damian collected in this estate?

Vivian let out a quiet breath and climbed into the carriage without another word. She didn't notice that through the gap in the flowering trees, Joshua had caught a glimpse of her. Her pale, delicate face registered somewhat in his mind. His drunken haze cleared a little, and he stared at her in obvious surprise.

Rubbing his face, he grabbed the nearest servant by the sleeve. "Who is that? I've never seen her before."

The servant hadn't seen her face, but recognized the carriage. "That's Prince Damian's princess consort, sir."

"Princess consort?"

Joshua frowned, slowly recalling that his cousin had indeed gotten married yesterday.

Watching the carriage gradually move away, he muttered to himself, "But Damian is still unconscious. There's no way the marriage could be consummated."

The thought amused him, his mood lifting as a slow grin spread across his face.

-

Vivian went to the palace and paid a formal visit to Rosalind first.

On the first day after a wedding, it was customary for the bride to make a formal visit to her husband's parents. But the late king and queen were both gone. With no parents to call upon, the current king and queen were the next senior members of the royal household, so Vivian treated the visit accordingly.

She'd timed it carefully. By now, the royal consorts would have already finished their morning visit with Rosalind and gone back to their own quarters. The morning court session was nearly over too. If she sat and talked with Rosalind for a little while, Edmund would arrive on his own, and she could greet them both at once.

She'd only miscalculated one thing—Julian was standing just outside the entrance.

Yesterday, Caleb had mentioned that Julian was sick. That explained why he wasn't at court this morning. He did look thinner than she remembered, and his face still carried the worn look of someone not quite recovered.

He stood with his head lowered, staring at the corner of the wall. It was unclear whether he was looking for something or waiting for someone. Vivian couldn't tell which, and it had nothing to do with her.

Out of basic courtesy, she stopped and said, "Greetings, Your Highness."

Julian looked up, slightly taken aback.

Married women in the Solmere kingdom wore their hair up. Vivian had pinned hers that morning, layered and gathered at the top of her head, held in place with pins and flower ornaments. The image from last night's dream flickered through Julian's mind. The sight of Vivian in her full wedding headdress overlapped with the woman standing before him now, then slowly blurred apart.

This time, she wasn't smiling at him. If anything, her expression could even be described as indifferent. When had Vivian ever looked at him like that?

Something about it irritated him, and his voice came out flat as he said, "Lady Sinclair, you married my uncle. You must be pretty pleased with yourself."

Vivian shook her head. "No."

Julian's gaze flickered. So, she wasn't happy?

He was about to say something when Vivian straightened her expression and said, "You should address me as your aunt."

Julian went still for a half second before it registered. When she said no, she hadn't meant she wasn't pleased. She'd meant the way he addressed her was wrong.

"It was quite improper of you to address me like that," Vivian pressed the point, her tone calm but firm.