I followed an old footman, who had come to escort me to the throne room, which was situated just under my rooms, in the west wing of the palace. The corridors were bursting with activity as noble ladies, servants, and seamstresses bustled about. Flower garlands in blushing rose and snowy blooms adorned the white marble bannisters. And the only talk was of the upcoming ball.
I passed open doors to chambers where servants stood around holding big silver trays of something sweet for the ladies to nibble on. All the while, the ladies preened and sucked in their bellies as the seamstresses tugged and pulled, sticking them with pins in places I would never imagine they needed to.
Aunt Serena was waiting for me in the outer chamber of the throne room.
I was a little nervous. What was the king like? Would he accept my claim to the throne of Illiador? Would he help me?
The massive doors to the throne room opened, and we were summoned inside. Aunt Serena led the way, and the doors shut behind me with a thud. The herald announced the Countess of Everdale, and I walked stiffly behind Aunt Serena.
The throne room was a cavernous hall, long and rectangular, with white marble floors. Huge pillars, spaced out at regular intervals, lined the two sides of the enormous room. The ceiling here was two stories high and decorated with magnificent frescos; massive arched windows bathed the room in sunlight. A long gallery ran along the first floor of the room, and a few lords and ladies of the nobility stood around, whispering in low voices.
My hands were becoming clammy, and my heart had started hammering in my chest. Was this going to be a formal audience in front of so many people? What if I slipped up? What if I said something wrong? All these people would laugh at me.
When we reached the dais where the king sat on the throne, Aunt Serena curtsied and gestured for me to do the same. I immediately dropped into a clumsy version of a curtsy that I remembered from ballet class. Aunt Serena had been teaching me, but I wasn’t very good at it.
The king looked pleased. He was a big, burly man with deep-set eyes and closely cropped salt-and-pepper hair, which peeped out from beneath his crown.
The king looked over to one of the guards standing on the side of the throne. “Where is my son?” His deep voice booming across the throne room. “Did I not expressly give a command that he was to be here for this audience today?”
The guard looked embarrassed. “I am sorry, sire. The prince got away from us again,” he said in a soft voice. “We have no idea where he is.”
“Probably out at a tavern, holed up with some wench as usual,” said the king loudly, his voice laced with disgust. “Just find him. I want him here for the harvest ball tomorrow.”
“Yes, sire.” The guard nodded and backed away into the shadows.
Some of the ladies in the crowd snickered and giggled. It looked like the reports about the crown prince were true. He sounded like quite a rake.
The king dismissed the sniggering, smiled, stood, and offered me his hand. “Come, my dear,” was all he said as he led me through a door behind the throne room into a smaller, more comfortable room. This was the king’s private audience chamber, and I immediately felt more at ease.
We sat across from each other, Aunt Serena and I perching ourselves on an elegant settee, while the king sat on a high-backed chair opposite us.
“The countess has informed me of who you are and why you are here,” said the king. “We are glad to have you with us.” He smiled. “I wanted our first meeting to be private, but later we can have a meeting with the council.”
I must have looked startled, because Aunt Serena put her hand on my leg. “Don’t worry, my dear. I told you we will not do anything you do not want. My father has arrived, and once you have had a talk with him, we can decide what is to be done.”
I nodded. I was dreading seeing Uncle Gabriel again. He was going to be so angry with me.
The king looked disconcerted. “I thought that fae-mages were a myth, but Serena has informed me that you are being taught to control your powers.”
“Yes.” I looked down at my hands. I was still embarrassed about the fiasco at school.
“It also seems your powers are exceptionally strong, like your father’s,” King Petrocales said. “It would be a shame to see such potential go to waste, so we must get as many nobles as we can to support you if the war comes. You will need troops, and you need to be ready to face Morgana and Lucian.”
“But . . .” I said, trying to get a word in.
The king held up his hand to silence me. “Let me finish. When the time comes, we can decide what is to be done. I understand your hesitation. Serena has informed me that you are reluctant to rule Illiador.”
I nodded again, more fervently this time.
The king’s brows scrunched together as he rubbed his temples. “Nonetheless, you need to understand that we cannot permit Morgana to rule, nor can we permit her to invoke the old law of Illiador as the high kingdom. If Azaren were king, it would have been a different story altogether. I do not know how much your aunt and granduncle have told you about your father.” He flicked a glance at Aunt Serena and turned back to me.
“After so many years, we had given up hope. You must be the one to ascend the throne. If you do not claim your right, the other noble families of Illiador will rally to someone else’s banner, there will be strife in
