Her lady’s maids finished dressing her, and she didn’t even bother looking at herself in the mirror. She hated the veil, hated the color black. It made her look pale and sickly. But mourning clothes weren’t meant to be flattering. And the alternative was removing the veil and presenting herself to be available for marriage, and the thought of that was equally distressing.
Normally, these sorts of meetings would be hosted at the palace. But Aristea was desperate enough to go directly to Duke Krantz’s town house. She’d sent notice that morning, asking to visit. But it wasn’t as if they could deny her. When the carriage pulled up to the town house, their servants were lined up on the steps to greet her. And, on the topmost step, was Duchess Krantz, an austere woman with thin, wrinkled lips and iron-gray hair. Aristea was disappointed, but not surprised, to see that Duke Krantz wasn’t with her. The duchess bowed stiffly to Aristea as she exited. Yvette, who’d ridden with her, followed her out of the carriage door. Duke Krantz had been one of Heinrich’s closest allies and was the head of his faction. Duke Krantz’s personal army had been the bulk of Heinrich’s father’s forces during the rebellion. Duke Krantz had often hosted her and Heinrich at their town house parties over the years. The men would drink and talk politics while Aristea endured small talk with the ladies in the drawing room. Despite a long acquaintance, the duchess had never warmed to Aristea.
“Your highness, thank you for honoring us with a visit,” Duchess Krantz said dryly.
“I appreciate you welcoming me on such short notice,” Aristea replied.
“Did I have a choice, your majesty?” the woman said with a raised brow.
Aristea just smiled at her jab, glad for the veil that would hide any of the frustration on her face, and gestured for her to show the way.
The duchess leaned heavily on her own maid, shuffling her way into the drawing room. Aristea took a seat and dismissed Yvette to wait outside while the duchess’ silent servant prepared a tray of finger sandwiches and wine. Then, when the duchess gave the signal, they retreated as well. The duchess’ shrewd gaze was piercing. She had a reputation for being rather blunt but cunning, and Aristea was under no illusion that the duchess didn’t know exactly why she was there. Which would either make her task easier or harder.
It was rude to jump straight to the point, and Aristea attempted a few lines of small talk, all of which fell flat. The duchess gave one-word answers that killed any attempts to start a conversation before sipping from her wine and staring down Aristea as if she’d asked the wrong question.
Aristea was feeling increasingly uncomfortable when the servant returned to refresh her wine. After she left, Aristea started another line of polite inquiry.
“Your husband is well, I hope...”
The duchess set her glass down heavily on the table beside her. “Your majesty, perhaps we could do away with the pleasantries and cut to the heart of your visit. I grow weary of this vapid talk.”
Aristea sat up a bit straighter and cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to cause offense.” She attempted to act demure.
“No, I expected not. But you wouldn’t be visiting me unless you needed something, would you?”
Aristea curled her hand into a fist on her lap and said, “I’ve come to see where Duke Krantz’s loyalties lie now that my husband is dead.”
It was a gamble to speak bluntly. For all she knew, they were plotting against her and would turn on her the moment she walked out the door. But she, too, was growing tired of games.
Duchess Krantz smiled. Aristea thought it might be the first time she’d ever seen her do such a thing.
“I knew you had some of your mother’s backbone.” She rang the bell on the desk next to her, and the servant re-entered the room.
“Bring the princess another cup of wine.”
“No, thank—” She hadn’t even finished the first glass, but the older woman cut her a look, and Aristea slammed her mouth shut.
The servant began to fill her already full cup, but frowned as Duchess Krantz scoffed.
“Not that bottle. Get a fresh one from the cellar—something old and dusty from Sundland. Their wine is the best.”
The servant nodded before backing out of the room.
“It’s not necessary. This is perfectly adequate,” Aristea said, gesturing to her full cup.
“Have something against Sundland?” Duchess Krantz asked with an arched brow.
Aristea coughed and turned to cover it.
The old woman cackled. “Nice to see you’re not made of stone. No, I sent her off on an errand to make sure she doesn’t eavesdrop. Never know who’s paying whom to listen in on important conversations.”
Aristea felt foolish for not considering it sooner, but of course, she should have. It was reckless to speak without being certain they weren’t overheard.
“Pardon?” Aristea said, trying to make sure she understood her meaning.
“I never liked Heinrich,” Duchess Krantz confessed. “He was a self-important fool, but he was a man of royal blood and in line to the crown, which is why fools flocked to him. Including my husband.”
Aristea took a moment to process everything the duchess had said. She’d never heard her speak more than a few words at a time, and now she was practically eviscerating her husband and Heinrich.
