Page 81 of Once Upon an Enchanted Kiss

“I will have no speeches of how your diplomacy works,” she interrupted, calm and cool. “You will repair relations with King Reginald. Rosamund and Phillip will marry. The wedding will go on as planned.”

He stared down his wife for a long, quiet, deadly moment. Then his shoulders slumped in defeat. He looked back at Rosamund.

“You truly love him?” he asked.

She nodded. “I do.”

“And he truly loves you?”

She nodded again. “He does.”

He inhaled a deep breath and blew it out. “Then I suppose I have nothing left to do but speak with Reginald and make sure this wedding happens anyway.”

Her mother placed the glass she still held on the table between the chairs. She grasped her father by the arm and led him toward the door. Rosamund jumped to her feet to watch as they headed for the door.

“You should. And you should go right away.”

“Are you certain now is the time, my wife?”

“Yes, absolutely. Time is of the essence, my darling.”

At the door, she pulled it open and ushered him out. When he was gone, she closed it behind him with a snap. She sagged against the wood door, blowing out a breath as though she had been holding it all that time. There was color high in her cheeks as her emotions ran high.

“That went well,” Rosamund said.

“Yes, better than I expected. You have excellent diplomatic instincts, my daughter.” She pushed off the door and walked toward her. Her gaze raked up and down her, as though seeing her for the first time. “Now, I think you should change out of those peasant clothes. Wherever did you get them?”

Rosamund smiled. She hooked her arm with her mother’s. “I’ll tell you the story, Mother, if you wish. But first, I’d love a hot bath and a meal. I’m ravenous!”

“Ah, yes, of course. I’ll ring for the servants.” She released her daughter and headed for the gold cord, then halted and turned back. A smile exploded on her face. “My daughter is getting married.”

A flush of joy, hot and wild, went over Rosamund.

“And,” her mother added, “I could not be more pleased. I’m so happy for you, Rosamund.”

Rosamund was happy, too. She could not wait to share the news with Phillip.

Queen Rowena sat high in her castle as satisfaction oozed from her pores. She had finally gotten her revenge on the hateful King Stephan. His daughter was dead by her hand. It had been a very long eighteen years, but she was happy to finally have her vengeance.

As she lounged on her throne drinking a glass of her favorite elderberry wine, Ferrin arrived. She had sent him on an errand for her to make sure the prince took the dead princess back to her father. She wanted to know the king’s reaction when he realized his only daughter was dead. She sat straight up and poured another glass of celebratory wine.

“Ah, Ferrin. You have returned. What news from Myst Hall do you have for me?”

His face was pale. He stood before her with his hand clenched and a look that told her she was not going to like what he had to say. Immediately, her mood darkened.

“Well?” she asked.

“Your majesty, the prince returned to Myst Hall with the princess,” he began.

But she sensed something was wrong. Her hand tightened into a fist, her nails biting into her palm. “And?”

“And it seems the princess did not die when she pricked her finger.” The boy swallowed hard, his throat working.

Rowena lifted her head and looked down her nose at him. “What do you mean she didn’t die?”

“It appears, my queen, she was under a sleeping curse.”

Fury erupted behind her eyes. She flung the goblet she’d been holding across the room. Wine splashed out as it clattered to the ground with a resounding clang. She rose to her full height, taking a deep breath to steady her rage.

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