"Look at them, he doesn't even realize he's the prey rather than the predator."
"If she kills him, there will be war," I said in a low warning.
Bryony's expression hardened and grew thoughtful. "Well…she can't do it in one night can she?"
Wendell twitched, gaping at her. "You want to let her take him in the hopes that she will harm him?"
"We need more witnesses to Camellia's cruelty," Bryony whispered.
Camellia's arm reached out, sudden and making anyone close by skitter away, wives dragging back their husbands. Anyone but Holden. Holden approached her, entirely fearless. Ignorant. A moment later, Camellia had him in her clutches as he pushed her and her Chosen into a further off shadowy corner.
"He may be too proud," I warned Bryony, turning her away from the scene.
She hummed and nodded. "We need some way to keep an eye on things in her suite. Bribery maybe? A maid? Or a guard?"
"Cunning woman," Wendell said with a grin, wrapping Bryony's arm around his. "Look to your mother."
I looked too, found Bryony's mother still staring in Camellia's direction, a knot of tension marring the queen's normally smooth forehead.
"Look to Thomlinson," Bryony said with a snort.
The man was near the queen, which was probably to be expected, and he appeared equally as perturbed by Camellia as Bryony's mother. Good. His choice of princess made him look like a fool.
"We're nearly done for the day," I said, smoothing my hand over Bryony's shoulders. "Accept a few more condolences with dignity, and you'll do your grandmother proud."
Bryony straightened under my touch, and she nodded, Wendell guiding us to where a few councilmen—ones whose support was still up in the air, I noted—stood with two foreign ambassadors.
"The dinner was good," Bryony murmured, eyelids heavy as Owen rubbed the soles of her feet.
We were gathered together in the suite's lounge, the moon high in the sky and only a fire in the fireplace to light the room. Morgan and Nora had already been dismissed, so it was only us Chosen with our exhausted princess.
"You mean aside from the interruptions of your sister?" Aric asked, his head tipped to rest on the back of the couch, fingers working tension out of his temples.
Bryony's head rested on my chest. The laces of her dress were undone, corset slipped out from beneath the dress in some kind of feminine magic trick.
"Camellia's appetite for cock didn't seem to impress some of the council," Cosmo said with a shrug, sipping on a glass of brandy, his bare feet propped up on a decorative table.
"Or the queen," Daniel added, nodding.
"I don't want to think of her," Bryony whispered, and we all fell silent. Her fingertips picked at the weave of my shirt, and I placed a hand over hers, stilling the movement. A minute of quiet later, and her trembles started, little sniffles soon following.
"Your grandmother would be proud of you today, Mistress," Owen said, bending down and pushing Bryony's skirt up enough for him to kiss her shin.
Bryony shuddered and nodded against me. "I know," she said, words choked with tears.
"It's late. There'll be more visiting and opportunities for politics tomorrow," Wendell said, rising from his chair.
"You should get some rest," Cresswell said, moving for the door to the bedroom.
Bryony nodded again, but her hand pressed to my chest. "I'll come in. In a few minutes."
One by one, the others took the gentle cue, heading for the bedroom to wait for Bryony to come in and be bundled up in the arms of whomever could claim her first. I watched them go, my heart drumming slowly beneath Bryony's firm hand that held me in place. Had I angered her? Or aroused her? Or was she merely comfortable here and wanting privacy and a good lap to mourn on?
"I'll be in soon," Bryony said to Owen, who hesitated longest. He smiled at me, a secretive look I wasn't sure I could really read, and then stood and left us.
Even after we were alone, Bryony remained in place, her sniffling slowing and growing quiet, her hand still holding me in place. I relaxed, my arms already looped around her waist, and I lowered my cheek to the top of her head.
"Will you take the pins out?" Bryony asked.
I smiled. This was usually Cosmo's job, and it was one I coveted. I reached one hand up, searching blindly for the thin pins, working them gently out of Bryony's hair as she sighed and softened fully against me.
"Thank you."
"Any time," I said, shrugging a little beneath