Chapter Twenty-Two
Leander awoke the next morning with the sun shining brightly through his open curtains and cursed his drunken self for forgetting such a simple task of closing them. Groaning, he rolled out of bed, extricating himself from the sheets as he did so and rubbed his eyes.
There was a knock at the door.
“Yes?”
The door opened and his father’s butler poked his head through. “Lord Leander, you asked for a wakeup call.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“No, my lord, you misunderstand, the slave came to wake you, but you were not to be roused in your state.”
Leander dragged a hand along his face and tried to remember why he had asked to be woken up. What event was so important that he had had to ensure he was there on time?
“It is the queen, my lord,” the butler prompted, unsmiling.
…shit.
He jumped to his feet and ran to his wardrobe, where he threw on what clean and pressed clothes he could find in his wardrobe—why didn’t the slaves stay on top of the laundry?—and threw them on with record-breaking speed.
“You would be best to take the carriage, my lord,” the butler intoned from his place by the door where he watched Leander struggle with fastening his attire. Ordinarily, it required one of the slaves to act as valet, but Leander didn’t have time for that. Sighing, the butler approached and helped Leander, who was fiddling with his cufflinks. “You will take too long if you walk, and you do not want to appear lateanddishevelled if you run to the palace.”
Leander nodded. “If you can have it made ready, please.”
“It already is. It returned by your father’s request once it had dropped him off at the palace earlier.”
Leander wasn’t sure what to make of that, knowing his father and he were attending the same court event and Flavian had deliberately left the Talius residence without him. It was almost like he was waiting for Leander to fuck up.
Once dressed, Leander dashed downstairs and exited the manor to find the carriage waiting. “The palace,” he ordered the driver, who was moving as soon as Leander had sat down.
The journey didn’t take long, but Leander couldn’t stop bouncing his leg and starting out the windows, willing the carriage driver to spur the horses on faster and praying thepedestrians would move out of the way quickly and not hinder his journey. His agitation was building. Today was not a day he wanted to be late for, even if it was just his aunt, the queen—rather than the king—whom he had to petition.
Alighting from the carriage before it had even been brought to a stop, Leander stumbled but managed to keep his footing enough so as not to fall on his face completely, which would have made him look even worse when he presented himself to the queen.
His head was pounding something fierce, and he tried to remind himself of what he was petitioning for. It wasn’t really what he wanted anyway, it was what his father had suggested. This exercise was more academic than anything else: a chance for Leander to learn more about court and role he played as a lord.
Had he remembered about his day, he would have exercised more restraint instead of drinking so much.
He wasn’t at the point where he was slurring, or walking with an uneven gait, but he had the worst fog resting over his mind. He wasn’t sure if he could pull this off. A part of him wished that he could have slept through even the butler coming to wake him.
Walking through the palace, Leander worked hard to avoid the gaze of other courtiers milling about. He was headed for the throne room, where the queen was undoubtedly waiting for him… and his father. He stopped and caught his breath as he reached the doors to the throne room. After a moment’s pause, he indicated to the guards to open the doors and announce him.
All turned to face his way as he entered. Leander staredstraight ahead, once again preferring to avoid eye contact from those in the room, lest he see the judgement in their eyes. He got enough of that from his father.
“Your Majesty,” Leander stopped and bowed deeply at the waist when he came close enough to his aunt. “I apologise for delaying your morning, and I thank you for waiting for me.”
Queen Melanie was not smiling, but her face wasn’t one of anger either. If anything, her face was serenely composed, giving nothing away. “That’s quite alright, Lord Leander.”
“Thank you, aunt?—”
There were titters around the room as Leander immediately realised his mistake in being so informal with the queen. Would that he could take it back, but he couldn’t, and he felt heat flush up his neck and cheeks with the embarrassment at his impropriety.
“My deepest apologies, Your Majesty,” Leander said again.
The queen dipped her head but said no more, waiting.
On with the show, he guessed, there was no time for dawdling, not after he had made Queen Melanie’s morning run behind with his lateness.
