The Queen's Assassin (Queen's Secret #1) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,96
I blink a few times. “Er, no, Your Majesty.”
He looks at the vizier. “You haven’t invited Lady Lila—and her brother—to the Small Ball?”
The vizier shifts uncomfortably.
“Issue the invitation at once.” The king returns to his cake, as if the matter is settled.
“May I ask a question?” Cal says. “Why is it the ‘Small Ball’?”
“Because we are a small group, of course,” the vizier says, looking baffled. “Are you not familiar with the tradition?”
“No, I’m not. In Argonia we only have large balls,” he says with a straight face.
I thwack Cal’s shin with my pointy-toed shoe. He doesn’t even flinch.
“In any case,” the vizier says, “I was under the impression that the Holtons were going to depart by then; otherwise I would surely have sent them an invitation. Allow me to set this right, Lord Holton?”
“We would be honored to attend,” Cal says.
“Then it is done, and, Renovia, are you staying for the event?” asks the king.
“It is our distinct pleasure to be able to,” says Ambassador Nhicol as Mathieu beams at his side. “You are too kind, Your Majesty.”
Please no. Please no. Please no. I can’t do this all over again.
Duchess Girt claps her hands. “It’s settled! Everyone’s coming to the party!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Caledon
THE VIZIER SHOWS UP FIRST thing in the morning to fret over their wardrobes. He visits Cal’s closet first. “Oh, but what will you wear?” The vizier sighs, flicking through the various shirts and jackets and pants Cal has collected during his stay. “We have, let’s see, one . . . two . . . three days! Three days. We can come up with something in three days, I think. We’ll get started right away.” He shuts the closet door decisively.
Next they walk down the hall so the vizier can tackle Shadow’s closet. The duchess follows him around, taking mental notes for the tailor. He pulls each gown from the oak wardrobe and tosses it onto the bed until there’s a gigantic rainbow of silk and lace toppling over onto the floor. A maid picks them up, replaces the hangers, and places them over a chair, waiting for the vizier to leave so she can hang them back up. “Something . . . let’s see . . . no . . . no . . . absolutely not . . . what’s your favorite color, dear?”
“Red,” Shadow says.
“No. Blue for him, darker blue for her,” the vizier tells the duchess.
She nods solemnly. “Agree completely.”
“In fact, we should get out there right away.” He turns to address his footman, who stands patiently in the hall outside the door. “Get the coach ready.” The footman bows and leaves. The vizier sighs and rolls his eyes, as if to suggest the staff is a bother, rather than people doing him a great service.
“Tea for the drive?” the vizier asks Duchess Girt. He doesn’t wait for her response, which will of course be yes. He leaves the room. As she follows, she brushes suggestively against Cal. Later, she mouths to him. She runs her manicured nail across his lips.
Once she’s gone, the swoosh of her gown fading into the house somewhere, Shadow says, “Do you need something?” She is standing by the window with her arms crossed.
Cal’s taken aback. “I thought we would talk about—” He is about to say “the duke” but he doesn’t get a chance.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she snaps.
He runs his hands over his face and hair in frustration. “Why are you so upset with me? Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”
She looks out the window.
“I already told you . . .” He pauses to collect his thoughts. He thinks she could be jealous but he can’t be sure. Besides, if Shadow cares for him, wouldn’t she say something? It’s not as if she’s shy, like he keeps telling people. “All I did was kiss a girl I didn’t particularly want to kiss, but I did it, for us.”
“For me? You kissed her for me?” Shadow whips from the window. “Should I be grateful? Should