entertain, but an eyeless, ravenous monster who’d wanted to eat me.
Reminding myself that Jean-Jacques was more likely to drool on me than bite off a chunk of my shoulder, I tamped down on the remembered horror. Not that the stench of his soured-wine breath was that much better than the fetid rot of that monster.
With every nerve in my body, I wanted to throw his doughy, clammy hand off me. But I couldn’t risk making a scene amidst the courtiers and the prince’s party, who were taking their morning tea alongside us on the castle terrace.
“I’m sure I would,” I agreed tightly, looking down pointedly at the hand weakening my grip on my teacup. “Now, if I can have my hand back, please. I’d hate to stain this pearly-white tablecloth…”
“Pearls, yes. You will wear Mother’s pearls in the portrait.” He tugged at me, his greying face closing in. “And you seem to have pearly teeth. I should like to see them up close, to check on your health and all.”
As his own yellowed teeth filled my vision, revulsion overtook any courtesy I had left for this man or his companions. Certainly any hope I could withstand him, even to save my life.
I stopped resisting his pull, letting my wrist twist, dumping the scalding contents of my cup down his shirt.
Jean-Jacques jumped up squawking in pain, eliciting a storm of amused whispers as he dabbed frantically at the ruby stain on his chest.
“Oh, dear, what a mess!” I breathed in pretend apology. “I hope you have a change of clothes, Prince Jean-Jacques. Hibiscus is an expensive import from my mother’s homeland of Cahraman, and its stain is permanent.”
Jean-Jacques swung unsteadily towards me in outrage, but I had already gotten up and was striding back inside.
Keeping my head high as I passed through tables, I tuned out the gossiping snickers and the prince’s drunken swearing.
Stepping out of the rare Arborean sun into the empty sitting room, I found my handmaidens where I’d left them watching this train wreck unfold. I waited until I’d crossed out of everyone’s line of sight before I mirrored Agnë’s disappointment with a slouch, and Meira’s displeasure with a scowl.
“I can’t believe I had to tolerate that disgusting fool,” I seethed, rubbing at my forearm, the revolting ghost of his sweaty grip lingering on my skin. “Checking my teeth, indeed! As if I was some mare he’d come to acquire. And you’d think this was the dark ages, with his preference for wine over water.”
“It’s a wonder he hasn’t drunk himself to death at his age,” Meira said snidely.
At that, Agnë smacked her upside the head.
“Ow!” Meira rubbed her head, ruffling her curly, dark brown hair, brows slanting as they dipped over glaring, same-colored eyes. “What?”
“You know what!” Agnë squeaked indignantly, before turning to escort me away with a gentle hand, her big, watery-blue eyes sorrowful, sunlight bouncing off her blonde hair in a golden halo. “We still have the other four candidates to go through this weekend. Surely one of them will be the one.”
Before the last few failed attempts, I would have striven to echo her optimism, or to appreciate her aversion to having the word “death” mentioned around me. But the reality of having no more viable candidates pressed on me like a boulder, and I could no longer bolster myself with flimsy hope.
There was nothing more to do to stop my impending death. I could almost feel its suffocating fingers squeezing my neck tighter with every breath.
I exhaled. “His half-brothers are nowhere near noble enough anyway. And they’re even shorter, rounder, and amazingly, more off-putting.”
“And two of them have not one but two dead wives to boot,” Meira muttered, before squeaking in protest of another smack up the head.
Agnë turned from reprimanding Meira with a flustered exclamation. “But they are younger!”
“Yes, indeed,” I sighed dejectedly. “The youngest is only twenty years my senior.”
With none of us having anything more to add to this mess, I let them herd me away to the last place I wanted to be at the moment.
Gliding across polished floors spread with silver granite, and following the curving path set by royal-blue carpet, we passed through six sprawling sections of the castle’s middle floor. When we were at the end of the corridor leading to the king’s quarters, it was still too soon.
My dreaded destination was flanked by two guards garbed in the Arborean black-and-gold royal uniforms. They were holding their spears at attention and staring ahead stoically, pretending not