Tangled Games (Dating Games #5) - T.K. Leigh Page 0,97

unborn child!”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Nora

A breeze blows a few tendrils of hair around my face as I stare at the miles and miles of glistening, blue ocean below me. I’ve never walked this close to the edge of Anderson’s property before, choosing to remain at a safe distance. But now I’m drawn to the swirling depths. Wonder how it would feel if I were able to summon up the courage to leap.

I imagine I’d feel free again.

Then nothing.

What I wouldn’t give to feel nothing. To be numb.

But I’d never be able to do that. Not only because of Little Pickle, but also because Lieutenant O’Kelly lingers nearby, watching my every move, as if I pose a danger to myself.

After the way I destroyed the bathroom in Paris, I suppose everyone has good reason to think I do.

“My lady.” A voice cuts through over the ocean waves crashing below.

I turn around, facing the butler. I can’t even remember his name. Charles… Richard… It probably won’t matter much longer anyway.

“Her Majesty is here and requested an audience.”

I close my eyes, drawing in a steadying breath.

The last person I want to see is that woman, who I’m sure believes every single word my mother said.

“If you’re not up for it…,” O’Kelly says, expression awash in concern.

It touches me that, even though he’s employed by the monarchy, he still shows loyalty to me first.

“Thank you, Kylian. But I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure about anything right now.” I smile sadly, then follow the butler out of the gardens and into the house, O’Kelly remaining only a few steps behind me at all times.

As I walk down the corridors, it feels like all the portraits stare at me as they would a condemned prisoner heading to her execution.

With pity.

With disgust.

With just plain revulsion.

From the first time I stepped inside this house, I always felt they were judging me, silently thinking I didn’t deserve to be here. That I’d never measure up.

They were right.

“Ms. Nora Tremblay,” the butler announces.

I give O’Kelly one more reassuring smile before stepping into the study.

The space is mostly dark, dust from the hundreds of books clinging to the air. If it weren’t located in this house that’s more like a prison, I might like this room.

I focus on where Queen Veronica currently sits at a table by the window, a chess board resting on it.

She doesn’t get up when I walk in, simply stares at me with those cold, judgmental eyes.

“Your Majesty,” I say with an awkward curtsey.

It may be the last one I ever do. It’s probably why she’s here. To break the news so Anderson doesn’t have to. Doesn’t have to look into my eyes and tell me we gave it a shot, but it just didn’t work out. That he had to make a choice between the Crown and me. That as future king, he will always have to choose the Crown.

“Sit, Nora,” she says in an even tone, gesturing to the chair across from her.

There’s a part of me that wants to remain standing, one final act of defiance. But there’s nothing left. I do as she requests, peering at her with a vacant expression. Nothing she says can hurt me. I don’t think anything can now.

We sit in silence for several moments. It once unnerved me. Not anymore. Now I welcome it.

“I’m sure you know why I’m here,” she begins.

“It’s not to discuss who I favor in the upcoming derby?”

She gives me a reproachful glare, her distaste for my sarcasm obvious. “You’ve put this family in a difficult position.”

“I believe that honor should be given to my mother.”

“Perhaps.” She waves her hand at the chess board. “Do you play?”

“I know the basics.”

“Very well.”

She grabs two pawns, one black and one white, closing her hands around them. She hides them behind her back and mixes them up. When she extends her hands back toward me, I tap her left one. She opens it, revealing black in her palm.

I take the black pawn and return it to the board, awaiting her first move. She pushes one of her pawns forward two squares, which I also do when it’s my turn.

“Regardless of the veracity of your mother’s claims,” she continues, her focus mostly on the board, “her version of events is out there, and there’s only one person who can clear your name in this so-called Kangaroo Court that appears to have convened in this country.”

“Who’s that?” I ask cautiously after taking my turn, unsure how much she knows about