Chapter 6

Royal Palace, Porenza

Exhaustion weighed on her, but Sophia kept her head high, maintaining her mask of composure while progressing through the ornate gold throne room. The ceilings were painted with scenes of bloody and barbaric medieval games, which she would gladly participate in if it saved her from having to see her mother.

Too soon, she passed the royal guards standing sentry to the private family wing of the palace.

Servants tended the flowers overflowing ornate vases, diligently staying on task or bowing as she stepped by. She hated being bowed to, but had no power to stop it. Other servants polished the carved antique furniture, ensuring not a speck of dust marred the priceless surfaces or gilded frames of the paintings that hung on the walls.

The ever-present dread of being in the palace niggled at the back of her mind, though the tension in her shoulders at least kept them straight. The only thing she could do was get through the week, and if she played her part well, she’d be able to leave for London on Friday. She’d be free of her cage for a while longer.

If only she could have made it to her rooms as soon as she arrived. But the second she’d stepped out of the car, her assistant, Mary, informed her that the dowager queen wished for an immediate audience. That meant Sophia got no time to herself to think.

The situation with Viktor was only adding to her nerves.

She breathed deeply before stepping foot onto the thick carpet lining the hall to her mother’s apartments.

Viktor had been right. Other than having Marco bang on her door to ensure she was well this morning, neither he nor Stephen had admitted anything had gone wrong the night before. They had been standing guard in separate rooms, so she guessed they each assumed they’d fallen asleep at their posts.

During the trip from Paris, she’d been on edge, worried that one of them might say something. If they had, it would have spurred an immediate and thorough investigation. How well would the hotel’s altered security feeds have stood up to that?

Sophia wished she’d had time to discuss Viktor’s visit with Jen. But Jen had been off duty until the plane took off at eleven, and finding time to relay events on the plane would have been tricky. Jen had been busy since they landed in Porenza, and there hadn’t been a sufficiently private place to talk without insidious palace cameras recording their every word.

She fought back the tension. It did her no good right now. There was no choice but to keep up appearances while in the palace because she was paranoid enough to believe they were watching, even in her rooms.

The closer she came to her mother’s suite, the more the cloying scent of roses seemed to reach out to suffocate her. She hated the expensive species her mother favored. Thankfully, William had forbidden their inclusion elsewhere in the palace.

Numbness settled throughout Sophia. The familiar defense mechanism washed through her until there was very little emotion left. The emptiness used to frighten her when she was young, but she learned to welcome it. It had kept her safe in her mother’s presence.

She ignored the family portraits she passed. The smiling faces were all a façade—perfect expressions to hide depravity, narcissism, or misery, in her case.

The guards swept the doors wide when she arrived at the entrance to her mother’s rooms. The interior of the dowager queen’s suite was decorated in soft champagne and gold, her mother’s two favorite things.

“There you are.”

There was no missing the disapproval in those three simple words. At fifty-two years old, Sophia’s mother was still a vision of perfection. She wore a gold silk dressing gown, full makeup, and her shoulder-length wavy hair, a shade lighter than Sophia’s dark-chocolate color, was swept into an elegant chignon. The strands of her hair gleamed and were far fuller than usual. A busy team of stylists and surgeons were paid well to ensure the widowed queen mother barely aged at all.

“I came as soon as I received your summons, Mother,” Sophia pointed out with the appropriate amount of propriety, having long ago lost any hope of experiencing real love from the woman in front of her. Her mother lacked the capacity for it.

If not for her friends, Sophia thought she might have ended up just like her mother, a woman devoid of empathy or affection for anyone but herself. Do what is expected, and life is far easier, Sophia. That was the grand life lesson drilled into her by her parents at a young age. Going against it meant pain. Not physical pain—that would have been far easier to endure. When she was younger, she would have welcomed some outward sign of the abuse. Scars and bruises, evidence of her misuse. No, her wounds had all been internal.

As long as she showed little to no affection for anything or anyone, they had nothing to use against her. No more pets ripped from her arms as she wailed. No more servants thrown out with no references because they’d given her cookies or let her play.

She shook off those old memories. Unfortunately, the place was rife with them.

Her mother assessed her closely before narrowing her eyes. “You have smudges under your eyes.”

“I was reading through the charity notes Helen sent and lost track of time last night. I didn’t get much sleep.”

Sophia was well aware that she looked tired and had prepared for her mother’s criticism. Sophia’s travel stylist had done the best she could, but hiding the effects of two nights with little sleep would have required a miracle without the palace’s spa-like facilities.

“Unacceptable. Allow Helen or Mary to choose your charities from now on. That is what an assistant is for.” Helen was her mother’s watchdog, and Mary, though she handled Sophia’s schedule, reported directly to Helen. That was exactly the reason Sophia had chosen to keep her assistant at the palace instead of traveling with her. She didn’t need one more set of eyes on her when she was away from Porenza.

Her mother’s critical assessment wasn’t surprising. The extent of the dowager queen’s interest in charities extended to whether they provided the most public or global approval and only if it were in a civilized location. Choosing where to help was something Sophia actually felt good about, so she chose her own causes. Sophia hadn’t lied about reviewing all the details, only about when she’d done it. She’d actually looked them over on the plane.

Her mother hadn’t asked a question, so Sophia changed the subject. “How was your trip to Milan, Mother?”

“It was pleasant enough.” Sophia’s mother would have attended many lavish events in Milan, but she didn’t appear interested in discussing them. “That’s not why I summoned you. I have sent a list with Mary. On it are the men you will spend time with here and throughout your scheduled travels over the next few weeks. It is past time for you to marry, and your brother agrees.”

At those words, Sophia felt a flicker of anger slip through the numbness, but she choked it back. Showing anger wouldn’t serve her well at all. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t expected this. But a few weeks of forced dating?

Irritation flashed in her mother’s eyes as she added, “The queen consort has offered to advise you, though I do not agree with some of your sister-in-law’s exclusions or why we have to go through this charade at all. William should simply choose your husband.”

Judging from the added chill to her mother’s already cold demeanor, Sophia likely owed Nichole a favor. It was fair to assume her sister-in-law had removed from the list any men who were particularly horrible human beings, no matter their political connections and titles.

Her mother continued. “If you cannot choose within the month, William will do it for you.”

More of that fury burned beneath the surface, but Sophia tamped it down violently. A month? “I will take a look.” If her façade had cracked at any moment during her mother’s words, the dowager queen hadn’t appeared to detect it. Her brother’s marriage to Nichole had been the only thing to save her for as long as it had. Her mother had insured the royal wedding of the king was drawn out for the most publicity, and the year since William had married had kept them all busy.

Her mother barely waited for Sophia’s agreement before turning toward her dressing room. “Go. You only have hours to look presentable.”

Effectively dismissed, Sophia exited the same way she’d entered, more than ready to be away from her mother. Being in her presence for even a moment left Sophia drained, but she also felt a ridiculous pang in her gut, the echo of the child she’d been wishing for some kind of approval, if not love, from the woman.

She definitely needed a few hours to relax if her mind was taking her in that old, toxic direction. A few hours of rest was her only hope of getting back to her normal state. In the evening, she’d present a charming front, and afterward, she’d get some much-needed sleep. Tomorrow, she’d deal with telling Jen about Viktor and decide how to deal with that list of her mother’s.

She passed another guard, and it made her edgy. It was a reminder that at any moment, the guards who’d been drugged last night might decide to talk. She might need to get to Jen sooner than later. Her only ally needed to know what was going on.

Her anxiety prompted memories of Viktor that she really didn’t need to relive while at the palace.

Mere feet from her rooms, she saw Nicole turn down the hall from the opposite direction. The woman’s blond hair hung in loose, silky waves, and she wore a simple knee-length dress that hugged her slight curves. Sophia smiled but didn’t relax. Regardless of how pleasant and kind the woman could seem, Nichole was a royal who believed in the monarchy.

Nichole’s eyes lit up when she returned Sophia’s smile. “So good to have you home, Sophia. We’ve been on such opposite agendas that it feels like it’s been ages.”

“It’s good to see you as well,” Sophia said as she reached out to accept the hug her sister-in-law offered. Nichole had implemented some good changes as queen of Porenza, and Sophia respected her for them. It assured her that if, or likely when, Sophia decided to utilize her exit strategy, Nichole would ensure all her charities were cared for, not just the ones Helen handpicked for the best political impact.

Nichole reached out to grasp Sophia’s hands as the other woman searched her eyes. “Have you seen your mother?”

“I just left her suite.”

Her sister-in-law nodded before turning to walk at her side. A guard opened the doors to Sophia’s room, and the waiting team of stylists and her assistant, Mary, made a hasty departure upon seeing the queen consort.

In relative privacy, they settled on a couch of cream and blue, facing one another. Sophia asked, “You’re here to advise me on my choice of husband?”

Nichole actually rolled her eyes, which made Sophia want to be her friend. But that wasn’t in the cards. Nichole and William had met at university, and she was warmer than any woman Sophia imagined her brother would choose as a wife. A part of her felt pity for the other woman, but as authentic as the woman seemed, it could easily be a lie. William had always been cold, like their father. At least he wasn’t truly amoral, like the old king had been. William had a moral code, even if he was controlling and demanding in his antiquated ruling style.

Thinking of her father and his death sent a shiver up Sophia’s spine.

“I’m here to tell you to take your time going through the list. I understand you’re going to London for a couple of weeks. Your mother insists we have your choice before the end of the month, but I’m sure I can get you more time.”

“Thank you. And, yes, I leave for London on Friday. I have some things to attend to and some dinners scheduled.”

“Look over the list while you’re there. I took the worst candidates off. I was lucky to have found William at university. I can’t imagine having to choose a husband without any shared history or common goals.”

Common goals?

To the world, Nichole and William played the part of loving newlyweds, though her comment confirmed they were more like business partners. She had thought there was some affection there, at least on Nichole’s part.

William had become king at twenty, after their father’s death. Sophia was aware that ruling a monarchy came with a great deal of pressure, but he’d been bred to it. He’d returned from university and finished his degree at the palace, always doing what was expected of him, including choosing a suitable wife. He ruled with a firm hand and a strict belief in tradition.

He used that same adherence to tradition to control all her financial accounts. “That’s how things have always been done in the monarchy,” he’d claimed. And he’d made it clear, just as her mother had, that if Sophia were to break any rules or embarrass the family, she’d suffer the consequences.

“How was Paris?” Nichole asked, jolting her from her thoughts.

“It was a good. I enjoyed time with some friends.”

“Good. The round of dinners here should be delightful. Your mother expects you to spend most of your time with the few nobles on the list who are able to attend. Try to have some fun as well.”

“I will,” she assured her sister-in-law, though it was highly unlikely she’d have any fun.

“I’d better get going. We both need time to get ready.” Nichole reached over and squeezed Sophia’s hands in hers before rising.

She reminded herself that Nichole’s loyalty was never in question—it was to William and the crown.