Page 51 of Heartless

He found her in the room.

She couldn’t tell if he was amused or embarrassed for the King, but it was quick to fade, whatever it was. Jest seemed to change as he looked at her. His body lengthening to full height, his shoulders tugging backward, his eyes searching hers.

Cath didn’t know what he was looking for, or what he found. She felt half crazed, delusional with a wish that she was anywhere but here.

‘A courtship?’ said the Marchioness.

Cath yanked her gaze away from Jest. Her thoughts started to spin, her subconscious dissecting the King’s words.

Courtship. Thatiswhat he said.

The King was asking to court her, precisely as Jest had advised.

He was not proposing.

Relief rushed through her, fast as a rising tide through the whistling cove.

She placed a hand over her thundering heart and looked at her mother, whose mouth was hanging open.

‘Well,’ the Marquess blustered, ‘you honour us, Your Majesty. I—’ He turned to his wife, as if searching for permission to respond.

Shutting her mouth, she kicked his ankle.

‘I—uh, give my hearty blessing to such a courtship, but of course the decision lies with my daughter. Catherine? What say you?’

The room fell quiet.

The King, terrified but hopeful.

Her mother, pale with anxiety.

Her father, patient and curious.

Mary Ann, inching the door open so she wouldn’t miss a word.

The White Rabbit, eyeing an expensive vase with yearning.

And Jest. Unreadable. Waiting, along with the others, for her to speak.

‘I . . . am flattered, Your Majesty.’

‘Of course you’re flattered, child.’ Her mother kickedherthis time. ‘But don’t leave His Majesty waiting for an answer. What say you to this most kind and generous offer?’

Courtship. No obligations. No commitments. Not yet.

And, possibly, time to persuade the King that he did not really wish to marry her at all.

It didn’t feel like she’d been given a choice, not a real choice in the matter – but it didn’t seem so entirely dreadful, either.

‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ she said, already exhausted at the prospect. ‘It would be an honour to be courted by you.’

CHAPTER 16

CATHERINE WAS TREMBLINGby the time she retreated to her bedroom, dizzy with the King’s visit. Mary Ann had started a fire some hours ago, and the room was filled with a pleasant warmth that Cath couldn’t enjoy. She sank into her vanity chair with a groan.

She was officially courting the King.

Or, rather, the King was courting her.

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