Cedric’s lessons rose through the haze of fear, settling her unruly heartbeat.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said with a slight bow of her head. “I am most grateful for your concern. Though I am not at my full strength, I shall eagerly endeavor to fulfill my duties.”
The king nodded, bringing a bite of roasted veal, glazed with jus, to his mouth thoughtfully.
“Good. I am pleased that you have made a recovery.”
Then the king moved on, redirecting his interest further down the table. Her grip on the cutlery loosened. Nin hadn’t realized she was gripping them tight enough to leave indents on her palms. She closed her eyes for a single beat.
She did it. She passed the first test. The threat hadsailed by… for now.
Yet, from her peripheral, she sensed the queen studying her. She stared at her plate and swallowed thickly.
After the roasts were cleared, Nin blanched when a plate of small, tiny peas was set before her. Everybody else began eating, stabbing each pea with their forks, one morsel at a time.
She and Cedric hadn’t practiced with anything this fragile before. The tiny peas, dressed in butter and herbs, gleamed in the light—mocking her.
Her grip tightened over her fork as she prodded it gently.
It danced away. She tried again, applying a little more pressure, and the pea slipped like metal skating off ice.
The little traitor.
She hoped nobody would take notice of her awkward attempts, but she knew Cedric was observing her every movement.
Her stomach fluttered. Once, twice, and three more times she tried to pierce the pea, but it eluded her like a game of tag she was sorely losing. Frustration prickled her skin.
By all that was good in this world, she would not lose to apea.
She stabbed a little more firmly.
Perhaps too firmly.
The fork rolled against the offending green vegetable with a sharp scrape against the plate. To her horror, the wretched pea launched into the air.
Nin froze, her breath trapped in her chest as it arced across the table and into a bubbly champagne glass.
Plink.
She didn’t dare move or breathe. Some heads turned at the sound, and others murmured curious whispers. Duke Le Blanc blissfully raised his glass to his lips and drank.
A beat passed.
Then he sputtered, his face turning the shade of a plum. He pounded a fist against his chest, and the whispers rose in alarm.
“Are you all right, Duke Le Blanc?” King Ancell inquired.
The duke couldn’t answer. His coughing grew frantic as his hands came around his throat.
“He’s choking!” his wife screamed beside him. “Do something!”
The room exploded with cries of alarm. The king shot to his feet, commanding the servants to act.
Two pounded on the duke’s back out of sync, and then another wrapped his arms around his waist.
With one squeeze and a choking gasp, the pea soared free.
And struck King Ancell squarely on the forehead.
