Page 13 of The Throne Seeker
“I hope this war wasn’t too much for her,” she said, still studying the queen. “Do you think her illness has taken a turn for the worst?”
Her mother put a hand on her arm. “Keep your voice down,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder. “Her condition is still not widely known. But yes… I was hopeful that the tinctures were helping, but I’m afraid they haven’t been as successful as the healers had predicted.”
Rose played with her gold necklace, watching the pair argue. “I hope we weren’t too hasty to return. Having the ball tonight must have taken a lot out of her.”
Her mother scoffed. “It was she who requested it be moved up, said it would make sense with the soldiers’ return. She was most insistent upon it.”
Rose blinked, perplexed. Why would the queen care to rush the ball? Unless… unless the queen intended to get Rose married off before she stood a chance with Tristan. “Do you think the queen is opposed to me marrying Tristan?”
Her mother hesitated with empathetic eyes. “Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t think she’s too keen on the idea right now.”
Rose’s heart plummeted as she dropped her necklace. “Why not? Does she not approve of me?”
“No, it’s not quite that. I think it’s… something else,” her mother said.
Rose’s brows drew together in confusion.
Her mother gave an exasperated huff, moving closer. “You must have noticed their family’s fragile state,” she whispered. “She’s afraid one small tear might leave them all in ribbons.”
Rose had never shared a close bond with the queen, like she did with King Henrik, but she had thought they got on well enough. The queen had always enjoyed listening to her sing and frequently requested performances when Rose was a girl. She had often assisted in planning Rose’s birthdays, arranging for special desserts, and allowing Rose to select flowers from the garden. It puzzled her to imagine what had changed.
She fought hard to conceal her disappointment, recognizing that her potential mother-in-law might not want her as a daughter after all.
She glanced back at Tristan and his mother, only to catch both of them staring at her.
Embarrassed for prying, she quickly looked away. But, from the corner of her eye, she saw Tristan’s expression harden, snapping at his mother with a short remark before stomping away.
And to her surprise, he was headed straight for her.
She tracked him through the crowd until he was standing before her like a gallant knight. His self-assured presence calmed her worries as the rest of the room faded into the background. For that moment, she focused solely on him.
On the only thing that mattered.
He reached his hand out for hers. “May I have your first dance?”
She responded by gripping his hand. He held it firm as he guided her to the dance floor. The crowd parted for them as they glided to the heart of the room. She did her best to keep from falling over as they bowed to each other.
He closed the space between them, his free hand sliding around her upper back, supporting her arm on his. The mere contact made her very bones tremble. Her face burned as blood rushed to her cheeks, leaving her unexpectedly thankful for the thick layers of makeup. “Tristan, what?—”
“Do me a favor?” he interjected. “Don’t overthink this… Just dance with me. Dance with me and pretend the rest of the world isn’t watching.”
His tone was so sincere, she allowed her fortified walls to crumble.
A new song floated through the hall, reaching her ears in a soft, comforting quartet as the cello’s deep notes resonated through the floor. The rehearsed movements coursed through her trained body. Dancing with him felt as effortless as water flowing downstream—serene, yielding, and graceful.
Other couples gradually joined in, relieving her nerves as the focus shifted away from them.
“You look incredible tonight,” Tristan whispered at last.
She smiled, looking through her darkened lashes. “Thank you. It only took a few hours.”
Tristan’s face broke into a handsome smile. “Then I suppose at least one good thing came from all this… Though I still don’t know why you wanted this ball at all. Why did you request it be moved forward?” He twirled her, bringing her back into his arms with ease.
“What do you meanIrequested?” she asked, confused.
His brow quirked. “You didn’t?”
“No. My mother said your mother requested it be moved to today. She said she practically insisted.”
