Ava
Chapter 9
I marveled at the spotless marble floors, stepping on them with my dirty shoes. Nothing looked different at the palace. It was as though I had stepped back in time. Tall ceilings were painted to look like a stained glass window and were supported by wooden beams. The walls were decorated with paintings of men and women with crowns, remembering kings and queens of the past.
I followed George as he bellowed out orders to have me shown to my room. His attitude had been dark and dismal since the attack. George wasn’t one for coddling, so I’d given him his distance, but I worried.
“George.” I paused, touching his forearm. “Are you okay?”
George grumbled. “I told you to stop asking me. I’m fine.”
“It’s just that you’ve been very distant, and I—”
“Just tired,” he cut in, then issued more orders to the servants.
“Don’t worry,” Garrett whispered in my ear. His breath tickled my skin, sending chills down my arms.
"Why, if you aren't still the most beautiful creature in the world." A deep voice echoed through the hall. A large man wearing a crown approached, dressed in deep red.
King Edward Brandon of Telliva.
He had gained weight since my last remembrance of him, his hair and beard now gray. He strode toward us, two guards following behind him.
“Welcome back, my dear,” he greeted with a smile lining his face. He stopped before us and looked at his sons. “What in Femme Fatale’s name happened to the both of you?”
“We were attacked yesterday,” George snuffed.
Edward’s wrinkled eyes narrowed, landing on Garrett. “Who?”
“Pierce.”
“The pirate who rape—who assaults women and kills for fun?” he snapped. Garrett nodded, and Edward inhaled deeply. “Where is he?”
“Dead,” George replied. “I ran him through.”
“We’ll talk about this later tonight,” Edward advised, and looked back at me. “How is your father, Ava?”
“Very well, Your Majesty,” I replied flatly.
“I hear you are heading that trading business of his. I must say, I’m not surprised. You’ve always had spunk.” He looked at George purposely. “Always was a clever girl.” He gestured down the hall. “Go, get comfortable in your room. You’ve had more than an exciting trip. We’ll have a small dinner tonight to welcome you back.”
Before I could tell him I’d rather not, a bustle ricocheted in the corridor.
A lavishly dressed woman swept toward us in a rush of ruby skirts, adorned in jewels. Lady’s maids followed, as well as six guards, and I knew instantly it was Queen Cecilia. She wore red, to match her King, and her dark blonde hair was pinned in curls. Cecilia had aged extravagantly, which was no surprise; she was always over the top in everything she did.
"My dear!" she exclaimed. I flinched at the loudness of her voice, laced with forged sincerity. I forced a smile and curtsied. Cecilia held me and kissed my cheek. "Did you have a satisfying journey?"
“They were attacked on their way home, my darling,” Edward reported.
Cecilia’s eyes widened. “You are still pure, are you not, my dear?”
My mouth dropped as I clenched my fists to my side.
Of all the—
“She is fine, Mother. Everyone is fine,” George reassured her.
Cecilia gasped when she looked at him. “Oh, my sweetheart! Your eye!” She reached to touch his face, but George batted her hand away.
“I’m all right, it’s just a black eye. Ava gave me at least two of them, and I lived through those,” George retorted.
Edward nodded. “Whatever you want, George.”
“We’ll see you at dinner.” George ended the conversation and yanked me around his parents.
Cecilia frowned, her eyes following us. Turning to look at Garrett, I held a hand up to say goodbye.
∞∞∞
Stretching lazily, I woke up from my nap. Pushing myself up on my elbows, I studied my surroundings. Across the room, on the closet door, hung a maroon-colored gown I didn’t recognize. Hopping out of bed, I found a note pinned to it.
Because all your dresses were ruined, and I owe you one from years ago. I hope you like it.
Garr
A little thrill flicked down my spine. The dress was beautifully made. Roses laced in gold adorned the bodice and plain maroon silk flowed from the waist. I took the dress off the door and glanced around for a mirror. Finding one at the vanity, I walked over, placing the dress against my body.
I cringed as I stared at my reflection.
My hair was tangled from the bath I took earlier, and a purple bruise plagued my cheek from Pierce’s blow. I looked as though a carriage had run over me and then came back around again to do it again.
Laying the dress over the bed, I sat down in front of the vanity. Raking my fingers through my hair, I pulled it up, then to the side, thinking about how I should wear it. Opening one of the drawers, I found a brush and various blushes and eye pencils and pulled them all out. I needed all the help I could get right now.
A knock sounded at the door as I rubbed my hand over my colored battle wound.
“Come in,” I called.
The door clicked open as I watched a blonde and brunette female peek around the door.
“My Lady,” the blonde greeted, opening the door wider to curtsy. “It is lovely to meet you. I’m Lucy.” She motioned to her companion. “This is Miranda. We are your ladies.”
I nodded. “Nice to meet you both. But I don’t need any—”
“We must get those locks under control,” she said bleakly, examining me with sandy brown eyes. I narrowed my eyes at her.
Nice way to get right to it.
“Oh no, my Lady,” Miranda chimed, playing with the ends of her hair. “You are beautiful.”
“May I brush your hair, my Lady?” Lucy already held a brush.
I blew out a breath. “I guess I can use all the help you both can give.”
The girls pinned my hair up in a loose bun, strands dangling from it. Miranda placed a white carnation in my hair for “an added look” and applied powder to my face. It felt nice to be pampered for a few moments, since I didn’t have a personal maid at home.
Another knock sounded on the door, and Lucy went to it. “Your Grace,” she welcomed.
George stepped in, magnificently dressed in an emerald green cravat with a black coat. His hair was casually combed to the side, looking rested.
“You look wonderful,” he complimented, with the first smile I’d seen in days.
“Do I? I haven’t been able to see.” I gave a playful grin in Miranda’s direction.
Walking over to the mirror, I looked into it, not recognizing the girl in front of me. The dress complimented my skin tone and hugged my curves more than I would have picked out, but it still looked beautiful.
“You both did a marvelous job,” I commended them. “I don’t look so haggard.” I glanced over at George, looking hopeful. “This is just a small affair, right?”
“It better be. I want peace and quiet.” He held out his arm and I accepted it, letting him guide me down the large hallway.
“Did you settle in well?” George asked. We turned a corner, which opened more things to discover. Various paintings of scenery and stone statues of angelic females graced the walls. I made a mental note that one would look nice in our foyer. “Ava?”
“Hm?” I murmured, still studying the decor.
“Did you settle in well?”
“Yes, thank you,” I replied.
“I’m sorry for my sour mood the last few days.” That received my full attention. He rarely apologized.
“No need. It was, like you said, a trying few days.”
“Regardless,” George continued. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you so often.”
I smiled. “I’m used to you snapping, George. You used to chastise me at every moment.”
George straightened. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Don’t get defensive,” I told him. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” George replied. “My eye is killing me, but it makes for a great story.”
“Have you been telling your servants outlandish tales?” I teased.
George cracked a smile. “Maybe just a few.” He placed his hand on mine that was settled at his forearm. “How are you doing?”
“Better than expected, actually.”
“That’s my strong girl. I was worried sick.”
“I know. We are all right now; everything's back to being somewhat normal,” I said, squeezing his hand lightly.
George stopped in the middle of the hallway, forcing me to face him. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.” He looked down at our hands.
“No need to think of such things, George,” I comforted. “I wouldn’t have gone out without a fight.” I winked, and he chortled, then hugged me.
“Thank God.”
“I hate to interrupt this tender moment, but Queen Terror is looking for you, brother,” Garrett called down the hall. I peered over to see Garrett, arms crossed, looking at us intently.
George sighed. “Ready?”
I looked up at him and smiled weakly. “Ready.”
He placed my arm back into the crook of his, and we walked toward his brother, whose eyes never strayed from me. I felt like I would be set on fire at any moment because if Garrett’s looks could mimic actions, I’d be in flames right now.
George stopped outside the door of the dining room. “I forgot to tell you,” he started. “I’m courting someone.”
My eyes widened. “You’re what?”
“Her name is Madelyn Stratford,” he said. “She is the oldest daughter of a Judge in Vorset. I’ve only been courting her for—”
I placed a hand on his shoulder. “This is wonderful. I can’t wait to meet her.”
“You would like her,” George replied, grinning. “She loves to read and paint.
“I’m sure I will. I’ll start praying for her. She is going to need it.” I studied Garrett, who still hadn’t moved. “Are you going to stand there all night looking like that?”
He uncrossed his arms, walked over to the wooden door, and opened it, motioning us in. “After you,” he replied, with an over-exaggerated bow.
The room was lit with dozens of candles and a roaring fire. Cecilia stood in a gold dress that sparkled, pearls etched perfectly into it, demanding attention from the room. I shifted in annoyance; my patience didn’t want to handle this today.
“Evening, my darling,” she hailed with her arms outstretched. She squeezed me tightly, and then George.
“Would you like some refreshment?” she asked. A servant appeared immediately, and she handed me a flute of champagne.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I welcomed the drink to tamper my nerves.
“Come and meet my dearest friend,” she said, walking over to a woman sitting comfortably in an arm chair, “Natalie Dawson.”
I froze. She wouldn’t.
Anger brimmed in my veins. She had invited the conniving woman who had chased George down for years. I clenched my jaw, keeping the words that wanted to spill out of my mouth at bay…for the moment.
Lady Natalie Dawson daintily held out a hand for me to shake. My instinct was to smack it away, but I took it anyway. The woman had aged just as well as Cecilia; dark chestnut hair, that was put into a perfect bun on top her head. Her light brown eyes still held their splendor, and the only signs of age were the slight wrinkles.
“My, Ava Barlow,” she began. “I haven’t seen you since you were a child. Your beauty proceeds you, as I was told.”
“Lady Dawson,” I strained. “Lovely for you to be here. I didn’t know we’d have guests.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” she conceded. “I don’t get to spend much time here, but with Her Majesty’s birthday celebration tomorrow, I get to spare a few days away from my duties.”
“Of course,” I said. “I just hope we don’t keep you from your husband for too long.”
Cecilia and Natalie tittered softly. Natalie placed a hand on her chest, drawing attention to her low-cut violet gown. “I never married again, my dear. No other man caught my selected interest for an extended period of time, until recently.” Her gaze slipped past me, likely focusing on George.
Tactfully, I stepped to the side slightly, blocking her view and forcing a chuckle. “Oh, Lady Dawson, that is marvelous. He must be a handsome, older gentleman. Pray tell, who is he?” I watched her swallow, peering up at Cecilia for help, but the Queen gave her none.