For the fifth time that morning, I fidgeted with my dress in front of the mirror, then shifted my hair from one shoulder to the next. Then I split it evenly to fall across both shoulders, still wasn’t happy with it, and shoved it all behind to fall down my back.

I let out a huff.

No matter what I did, I wasn’t going to be good enough.

The Dowager Queen—Grayson’s mother—had invited me for tea.

And of course that invitation was laced with all sorts of implications.

Like, I’m totally going to eat you for breakfast because you’re a problem here.

I wasn’t trying to be a problem, but after the conversation with Alex, I'd started to pay attention to the number of times Grayson came to see me, and, well... None of our interactions were particularly long, but they were very frequent. He was a perfect gentleman, always—he had to be playing some kind of game—but he was also rather abrupt towards the end of our interactions.

Just like that first night.

I didn’t know what to do about any of it, since he wouldn’t exactly open up to me about what I was supposed to be doing.

It was very sink or swim, and I was definitely sinking right now.

If only my abuelita were here. She would know what to do.

But she wasn’t, and she hadn’t been for a long time. She probably wouldn’t give me any advice other than, ‘Get the hell out of that hornets’ nest.’

Which, admittedly, wasn’t bad advice.

But I’d chosen to live in this hornets’ nest for as long as Conall required, and I couldn’t go back on that decision.

Which meant going to see the Dowager Queen.

I let out another sigh, checked my appearance one last time, then left the suite.

It was a short walk to her suite—royalty lived close together—but I trembled the whole way there.

At last, I was standing in front of her door, and my hand shook visibly as I lifted it. I meant to knock on the door, but it was as if there was an invisible force field that my hand couldn’t push through.

She’s going to kill me.

No, my nerves were going to kill me before she got the opportunity to do it.

With a little huff, I shoved my nerves back down and knocked on the door.

“Enter.” Her voice rose at a commanding volume from within the room, which only served to rattle me further.

“It’s all going to be OK,” I muttered to myself before I pushed the door open, walked in, and closed the door behind me.

The suite was extravagant. The sitting room was large and filled with numerous pieces of art and furniture. It spoke volumes about her status and how long she'd been here—I got the impression that Grayson’s suite was more something that he just happened to live out of, that he didn’t particularly care about it, hadn’t put much thought into it, and would have been perfectly OK living out of the common quarters for all the time he spent, or didn’t spend, in it.

Not so with his mother. She'd spent God only knew how much time arranging her suite just the way she liked it, and she'd probably kill anyone who suggested she change one little thing.

She was sitting at a small café table by the wall, her face perfectly calm, with a smile on her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her hair was as white as her son’s, and she was wearing an elegant blue gown.

“Do take a seat, dear,” she said, but her tone said something different.

Get out, and don’t ever come back.

That was the impression she gave me, but I’d be a fool to do anything other than what she specifically told me to do. I was out of my depth here. I could only do as I was told and hope to get out of this with my head intact.

I curtsied, hoping that was the right thing to do, then walked over and took the seat opposite her.

“I’m so curious about you,” she said, her smile never faltering.

This woman didn’t want to know the least little thing about me; I knew that. This was an intimidation game, and I had to play along.

“What would you like to know?” I tried for my own smile, but it was a little wobbly.

“Where do you come from?”

I froze for a moment before I remembered the cover story Conall had provided me with.

“Oh, just a small estate in the country. Really, it’s of no particular consequence.”

“I see.”

I swallowed, waiting for her to say something else. This woman was an ice queen, and she was doing a fine job of rattling me.

“And how is it that you caught my son’s eye?”

Ah. Now we were getting down to it, although she was still skirting around what she actually wanted to say. That damned political style of speaking.

I shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’m just as confused as everyone else.”

“Hm.” She took a sip of her tea, then placed the cup back on the table. “How odd.”

“Odd, ma’am?”

“You're not quite what I’d expect of my son’s thrall.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to choose my words carefully. She was clearly saying I wasn’t good enough, but I didn’t know how to respond to that.

“And you do take up quite a bit of his attention, don’t you?” she continued. “I’m not sure that’s for the best.”

So, now I was a bad influence? What could I do to make her see that I hadn’t chosen any of this?

She continued on for several minutes, carrying on a one-sided conversation full of double-talk and implications that I was bad for her son, and after a while, I reached my breaking point.

I stiffened my shoulders and lifted my chin.

“What would you have me do? I have no control over what your son does or doesn't do. It’s not my fault if he wants to spend time with me. I'm certainly not trying to cause any trouble, and aren’t I supposed to be taking care of all your son’s needs? If he wants to spend time with me, I think that’s his decision.”

She lifted her eyebrows, her only reaction to my outburst.

Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said any of that.

I felt sweat bead on my forehead as if I were on a hunt and seconds away from being caught in the middle of a kill. She was just as terrifying as if that was actually going to happen.

At last, she made a small noise that sounded...a little...approving?

“You're certainly an interesting little thing,” she said at last.

I chose to take that as a compliment, even if she'd just called me a thing.

But it broke the ice.

She warmed to me, and we fell into friendly conversation about Gray. What he was like, his little quirks and such. I got the sense that she didn’t have many people to talk to about him, and he was her pride and joy.

“I do have to say,” she went on after taking another sip of her tea, “I’m glad he isn’t lonely anymore.”

I stared at her for a moment. It almost sounded like she liked me, like she was happy I was here.

What a complete reversal.

“I’m happy to help in any way I can,” I replied, hoping it was a suitable answer for her.

“Well, dear, I've enjoyed this, but I have some things to attend to.”

And that was that. I was dismissed.

“Of course. Thank you for your time,” I said. I stood and curtsied again before I made my way out of the suite.

What a strange interaction.