Page 54 of Her Dark Reflection

The physician shot me a disparaging look. I could read the expression well:Who are you to be questioning me?‘A sedative, ma’am. To keep her calm.’

Gwinellyn turned her head away and the physician took a hold of her.

‘She doesn’t want—’ I began, but a hand clamped down on my shoulder, causing me to jump.

‘Forgive my wife. She hasn’t witnessed such a thing before. She is overwhelmed.’ Linus’s voice at my back made my skin cold. ‘Continue with your care.’

The physician inclined his head before reaching over and clamping a hand over Gwinellyn’s nose.

‘Linus—’

He tugged me away just as Gwinellyn opened her mouth to gasp a breath and the vial was emptied into her throat. The sound of her coughing and spluttering filled the room as I was forced away, horror squirming low in my stomach. Linus pulled me to the side of the room and turned me to face him.

‘This is not your concern,’ he said, his voice low and unquestionable.

I swallowed whatever objection I was about to make. His expression brokered no argument. And he was right, it wasn’t my concern. Behind him, the watching women were winding into motion, moving forward to scoop up the now limp princess from the ground, holding her between several pairs of hands.

‘Where will they take her?’ I asked.

‘To the infirmary. It’s the best place for her.’

I continued to peer past him, ignoring the glower on his face, but his grip on my arm only tightened. ‘Maybe I should follow her.’

‘No,’ he said, with all the finality of a gunshot. ‘You will return to the hall with me. My daughter will already be absent from her own ball. How would it look for my wife to be missing too?’

Our gazes locked. I was the first to look away, turning to scowl at the ground.

‘As you wish, my lord,’ I muttered through gritted teeth. He steered me back into the ball with a firm hand and I went with little resistance, smiling benignly as courtiers clustered around us and began vying for attention, all seeming to have forgotten the young woman currently being hauled away into obscurity, just a minor inconvenience that could be solved with a concoction of sedatives and a well-chosen husband. I pushed her from my mind as I settled into the role I had worked so hard to play. When a tray of champagne passed within reach I swiped a glass and knocked it back.

The evening passed in the endless tedium of petitions for favour. Most looked to massage Linus towards their causes, but some were sidelined long enough to seek me out in hopes that I might hold some sway with my husband. I was pestered by grand matrons seeking positions of influence for their protegees, mothers pursuing favourable matches for their daughters, Dovegni demanding I deliver on my promise of funding for his guild scholarship program and fashionable ladies extending invitations to soirees in hopes of garnering social status. Even as they were currying favour, disdain licked at the expression of every single one of them. The respect and awe obvious when they approached Linus was not extended to me. I may have been queen, but it was clear that it was a position no one wanted me in.

When the musicians began to play, I was relieved to escape the endless hounding when a grizzled old bachelor invited me to dance.

I drained my third, or perhaps my fourth, glass of champagne and we took up our positions on the dance floor as I caught sight of Lord Boccius across the room. He only drew my attention because his red face was contorted in so sour an expression that I wondered if someone had told him how he resembled a pig with his bulging belly and tight pink waistcoat. But a quick glance in the direction of his glower told me all I needed to understand. In a shadowy corner, so out of the way that I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t looking for it, Lord Terame, the Grand Paptich’s nephew, was leaning with his hand propped against a wall, talking intently to the very young and very pretty Lady Boccius.

I couldn’t help but smirk as the dance begun. Gwinellyn had a better nose for gossip than I would have credited her with.

I was twirled from one hand to the next, slightly giddy with drink, trying to guzzle enough to numb the effect of the whispers that followed me wherever I went in the room, but not enough to give them all something more to talk about. The musicians slipped seamlessly from one tune to the next without my notice as I was twirled about by a procession of faces: sober men, kindly men, disapproving men, and those who looked on with lechery in their eyes, they all made as much of an impression on me as feathers falling against stone.

I was taking a break to nurse yet another glass of champagne when my hand was captured. I turned to see a head of dark hair bending to kiss it and felt a chill steal over me when my eyes caught on the long fingers gripping me.

‘May I have this next dance?’ asked a voice, deep and dark, burnt toffee and whiskey. A pair of pewter eyes met mine.

Draven didn’t wait for my answer, tugging me after him onto the crowded dance floor. He stopped and drew me up as the song changed, placing one hand lightly on my waist, where it smouldered like an ember as he positioned me.

‘What are you doing here?’ I hissed, my blood rushing so loudly in my ears I could barely hear the music. He had donned the formal tailcoat-waistcoat-trouser ensemble that the courtiers favoured, but he was still dressed entirely in shades of black and charcoal grey. Surprisingly, he didn’t look out of place here in this lavish ballroom, surrounded by people trussed up in the finest jewels and silks and furs that money could buy. I think it had less to do with the actual clothes and more to do with the way he wore them; his belief in his right to be there radiated so strongly from him that anyone looking on simply accepted it.

‘What a greeting for the man who made you queen,’ he said as he began to dance, steering me along as I tried to recover from the shock of seeing him. This past month had dulled my memories, had allowed me to convince myself that I was exaggerating the effect he had on me. With the shadow of a smirk coiling at the corners of his mouth and the slightly smoky scent of him beckoning, his presence was shattering every one of those fragile pretensions.

‘You are currently jeopardising that achievement.’ I stumbled as we spun and began to wish I’d drunk less champagne. It certainly wasn’t helping the feeling of disorientation that was whirling through my head.

He steadied me without missing a beat, his hand slipping lower, his grip a little tighter. ‘You had to have been expecting me. After all, you still have your end of our bargain to uphold,Your Royal Highness.’The last words were thick with sarcasm, and I scowled at him.

‘I could have you arrested.’ I lashed him with the words, wishing rather than expecting him to respect my new-found power.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Really,’ he drawled, and before I knew what was happening he was spinning me away from the centre of the dancefloor.

I tried pulling myself free as he began to tug me by the hand towards a doorway. ‘Someone will see us!’

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