I wanted open dissent againsthim. Not me.
I played my hand wrong, and that incenses me more than anything.
My father used to say that people are just an unlit wick ready to catch. I was supposed to get them to hold a candleforme, not burn me instead.
“What a bloody mess,” I seethe to myself. “I want that woman punished.”
Jeo says nothing, which is probably best for him, because my temper is an arctic bitterness ready to bite.
The carriage takes a sharp turn, making me nearly fling against the wall, and then it jolts to an abrupt halt.
Jeo frowns and looks out the window. “Seems we took a side street to get away from the crowd. There’s some kind of cart in the way.”
“I’ve had enough of this,” I snap before I shove open the door.
“My queen!” Jeo calls, but I step out and slam the door in his face. I’m finished with this day. I want to get back into my castle and regain control.
Stalking forward, my guards jump from their horses to follow me, but I wave them off. “My queen,” one of them says, rushing forward. “We’re taking care of it. You can go back inside where it’s warm.”
I ignore him, getting to the front, ready to lay into whoever dares to block a royal carriage.
In front of me is a weathered cart hitched to two horses, their brown coloring letting me know they’re not from Highbell. My driver and two guards are arguing with a man, urging him to move aside so we can pass.
“What is the meaning of this?” I demand.
All four heads turn to look at me, but my gaze hooks onto the man standing in the center. He’s not a Highbell peasant, I can see that immediately.
He wears finely tailored blue clothing, his shoulders are straight instead of hunched, and he dons a clean-shaved face. His blond hair is cut short against his scalp, and his eyebrows are a shade darker than the hair on his head. They arch up dramatically, giving him a look of intrigue.
He’s handsome, but there’s something more than just that, something that makes me want to keep looking at him. He’smagnetic.
“My queen...” one of the guards says.
“Why are you blocking the road?” I say, my attention on the man.
As I stop in front of him, I notice that his eyes are a peculiar color. Not blue, but gray and almost...reflective.
“Queen Malina.” He bows with practiced ease.
“What is your name?”
“Loth Pruinn, Your Majesty,” he replies smoothly.
I rack my mind to connect his family name, but for the life of me, I can’t. Strange, considering I know every nobleman in Highbell. “Sir Pruinn, you’re in our way.”
He smiles, a dazzling display to appease me. “Apologies, my queen. My wheel broke, and I was only mending it. I’m finished now, so I’ll make quick work of getting out of your path.”
“Good. See that you do.”
I turn to go back to the carriage, but he says, “Might I offer you a token? To show my appreciation for your patience.”
Facing him again, I hesitate for a moment, while the sky above us blows down soft flakes of snow.
“Please, Your Majesty,” he says, placing a hand over his chest in supplication. “It would greatly honor me.”
I nod, his respect somewhat calming my anger. “Very well.”
The guards and my driver move away while Pruinn beams and walks to his cart. It’s built like a covered box with a latch at the back. He opens it with a flick of a hook, lifting up the back wall and sliding it into a notch at the roof.
