Only then did she break.
The burning in her eyes intensified, and a lone tear slid down her cheek, quickly followed by another. Elizabeth leaned her head against the windowpane and gave a shuddering exhale.
She knew it was for the best. What they had would have ended eventually. She had known that from the beginning. She only wondered why it hurt so much.
Chapter 43
In the Queen’s Court
Three days later, Elizabeth prepared to return to Rhodea. She hadn’t seen Caspian at all, and he had been absent at dinner. Once or twice, she thought she’d caught a flash of dark hair, or a glimpse of his tunic at the end of a hall, but every time she got closer, he would disappear, as if into thin air.
She was a fool. Listening for his footsteps in the hallway and waiting for him to pepper her with sweet nothings to fix the tumultuous feelings in her heart. Of course, he hadn’t sought her out. She’d wounded his pride as surely as he’d wounded hers. She was a fool for believing he wouldn’t be offended by the depth to which she was afraid to love him.
When Fiza came to her chambers, she wordlessly pointed to the bag she had already packed for their trip. She followed the demon in silence as Fiza hauled her luggage to the carriage.
Despite being angry with her, Caspian upheld his word. The servants that she had requested were standing there waiting for her.
Lial, Maud, and Fiza stood by the carriage, solemn-faced. Lial would be her footman and guard on the journey, and Fiza, her maid. Maud, whose hair was twisted up and stuffed into a cap, saw Elizabeth approaching and screwed up her face, closing her eyes tightly.
In a puff of black smoke, a different person stood in Maud’s place. Instead of Maud’s mousy appearance, she had grown taller and developed thicker brows and shorter hair. She could easily pass for Lial’s brother now.
In her early days within the castle, Elizabeth would have been flabbergasted to watch a demon shapeshift into a completely different person. Now, all she offered was a cool smile in reaction to Maud changing her skin as easily as she changed dresses.
In the carriage, Fiza was a solid and unwavering presence beside her, while Elizabeth hardly spoke during the entire journey. She knew this trip would not go well, but she had no choice. As a citizen of Rhodea, she could not ignore a direct summons from her monarch.
Elizabeth had a sinking feeling she was supposed to be the planned entertainment.
The forests and mountains of Arboras thinned and gradually gave way to rolling hills.
Her layers proved far too much for the balmy, southern weather, and she removed her cloak.
They passed through leagues of neatly tilled vineyards and fields dotted with wildflowers. The familiar landscape should have felt like coming home, but instead it felt foreign, as if she no longer belonged to this softer, warmer world.
After a few days of travel, the roads gradually became more populated, and they entered the silver gates of the Calyx.
The sun shone, and the commoners wore pretty gowns of peach, lilac, and cream. There were baskets of flowers hanging on every street corner, and the atmosphere was merry and bright.
Their carriage rolled past the bistro and restaurant district, with white tables and chairs artfully arranged around patios, offering views of ships out at sea. This had been her favourite place in the city once.
Elizabeth spared no expense on the inn they stayed at, knowing at court, appearances were all that mattered. She cringed inwardly at the loss of funds and insisted on treating their party to dinner at the attached restaurant, making sure to seat their party by the window, visible to any nosy passersby.
The following afternoon arrived too soon, and Fiza helped her get ready for the court dinner. The demon’s face was set with determination while she did Elizabeth’s hair and face paint with expert precision. When she was done, Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror and thanked Fiza profusely. She looked radiant. Modest, elegant, and every inch a high-born lady.
“Give them hell, Lady,” Fiza murmured softly, fixing an errant lock of hair.
Elizabeth had decided to forgo the soft palette that was in fashion in Rhodea and opt for a gown of dark silk. In Caspian’s home, dressing in swaths of endless black had washed her out and erased her identity as a Lady of Rhodea. Now, she wanted to remind every woman at court exactly who she was and where she had been.
To take their shame and ridicule at having left and wear it proudly on her chest.
The gown she had chosen was made of midnight blue satin, with a fitted bodice and full skirts. Fine silver embroidery embellished the neckline and waist of the bodice, and the sleeves were billowy and made of translucent fabric. She paired it with the ice diamonds Caspian had bought her, thinking that at the very least, his gift might stop the queen from ridiculing her.
Elizabeth entered the palace with her head held high. She was formally announced, and as she entered the great hall, she curtseyed deeply to the queen seated at the head of the table.
“Rise,” said Queen Rowena with a smirk on her lips.
She did and strode to the only remaining chair at the table. She was seated far from the queen, which confirmed her family had fallen from her favour. Her mother’s absence doubled her belief she’d been invited purely for entertainment.
Charlotte was in attendance, of course, and sat three seats to the right of the queen.
