Page 19 of Legacy of Glass
“M…Marigold?” Olivia stumbled over her friend’s name, the ice down her spine turning to heat that flooded her whole body and set her trembling. She was glad her long skirts hid how close her legs were to collapsing. “I don’t know. Her dress?—”
But the queen was already walking toward the glass doors and the guard beyond, a martial light in her eyes. “Someone has made a grave error,” she said. “And I want to know where Lady Marigold is.”
She pulled the door open and spoke to the guard beyond. Olivia didn’t hear every word, but she did catch “fetch” and “footman.” She swallowed. She had traveled to the ball in Lord Emerson’s carriage, but she hadn’t made any false claims when she arrived at the palace, so if they had mistaken her for her friend, that was hardly her fault.
But how could such a mix-up happen? The royal family knew Marigold. It didn’t make any sense.
When Queen Elsinore finished speaking, the guard shut the door again, and the queen returned to them, her eyes on Olivia. But before she could speak, her son interrupted.
“Lady Marigold? You choseMarigold? What were you thinking, Mother? She’s erratic, temperamental, unpredictable, and has no self-restraint. She would make a terrible queen!”
Olivia could barely make sense of his words, but loyalty toward her friend sent another spear of anger through her, once again helping to keep less welcome emotions at bay. Defensive words hovered on her tongue, but she retained enough sense not to speak them.
“Peace, Julius,” King Robert said, echoing her thoughts. “This is hardly the time.”
He gave his son a stern look, his eyes flicking to Olivia and away, and the prince subsided, muttering to himself, “I’m going to kill Cade.Not going to be disappointed?!” He shook his head.
Olivia’s mind finally caught up with everything the prince had said, circling around and around the word queen. Was Crown Prince Julius betrothed to her friend? Was Marigold the future queen? Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening. How could her friend not have mentioned such a momentous thing? Was it possible she didn’t know about the planned match herself?
But a betrothal only made the mystery of the apparent mix-up all the more strange. Clearly Julius knew Marigold, so he couldn’t possibly have mistaken Olivia for her friend. He certainly hadn’t talked to her as if she was Marigold.
Olivia waited for the queen to speak up in Marigold’s defense—given she had apparently been the one behind the betrothal plans. But Queen Elsinore didn’t seem able to meet her son’s eyes, her gaze sliding sideways and her lips pursing slightly.
Olivia’s heart sank, any potential excitement for her friend withered before it could grow. Was it worth becoming a princess if it meant her friend would have to join a family where she was so poorly valued? Clearly Marigold had been chosen for her father’s wealth, influence, and power rather than her personal qualities.
Marigold might been dramatic, but she had a good heart. She deserved better.
“That isn’t what’s important right now,” the queen said, turning back toward Olivia. She reached for her dress, and for a terrible moment, Olivia thought the queen meant to rip her billowing skirts.
But she merely tweaked them aside to reveal Olivia’s feet, shod in the required glass slippers. Olivia looked back up at the queen, relieved, but the queen had turned pale, a fresh look of horror on her face.
Olivia felt her own face pale in response.
“What is the meaning of this?” Queen Elsinore demanded.
Each turn of the conversation only made matters more confusing, and Olivia had no explanation to give. But before the queen could demand an answer a second time, the doors to the ballroom opened, and the footman who had welcomed her to the palace walked outside. The doors closed behind him, and Olivia felt a pang of fellow feeling for the uneasy look on his face as he crossed the terrace and bowed low before the king and queen.
“How may I be of assistance, Your Majesties?” he asked.
“Your instructions were clear!” the queen said in a low voice, her eyes narrowed. “What is the meaning of this?”
She pointed dramatically at Olivia, and the footman’s eyes followed her gesture. The two of them gazed at each other with looks of equal bewilderment. Clearly he had no more idea of what was going on than she did.
“I checked as instructed, Your Majesty,” the man said carefully. “She was wearing the glass slippers.”
“Exactly!” the queen said, as if they were the ones talking nonsense instead of her. “Why was that girl permitted to enter the ball wearing glass slippers?”
Olivia stared at her. What was she talking about? Wearing glass slippers was the one requirement of attending the Midsummer Ball. Everyone was wearing them…Weren’t they?
Now that she considered it, she hadn’t actually seen anyone else’s slippers, except for Marigold’s. But then she hadn’t been looking at anyone’s feet, and the long dresses of the ladies covered up their footwear most of the time.
“My instructions were to watch for the daughter of Lord Emerson,” the footman said. “I saw the crest on his coach clearly, and only one girl got out. Her.”
All four of them wheeled to stare at her. Olivia bit her lip.
“It’s true that I came in Lord Emerson’s carriage,” she said. “And that I got out alone.”
“Treachery!” the queen cried, clasping at her heart.
