“You know,” I snapped, “in the battle of KES versus Libertas, you guys are totally losing. They’ve kidnapped Juliana, they’ve kidnapped Grant, and they almost kidnapped me. What is wrong with you people that you can’t even do your jobs?”
Thomas opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Finally he said, “You’re right.” He sounded stunned. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Thomas?” I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to figure out what was going on in his mind, but I couldn’t decipher his expression at all. I waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you in there?”
He nodded, blinking as if he’d just broken out of a trance. “We should go. You can’t be late for dinner, the queen will kill us all.”
“Not if Libertas gets there first,” I muttered.
EIGHTEEN
The Castle’s formal dining room was large and bright, with a long oak table that spanned its length. It was covered with candles that flickered in the slight breeze coasting in through the open windows. Crystal goblets threw rainbows of light across the place settings, each of which had more utensils than it seemed possible to use. Nathaniel Whitehall, the president of the Congress, sat near me, and he’d spent nearly the entire time telling stories from when he and the king, friends since childhood, had been young.
“And so I said to your father, if you can’t ride a horse properly, how the hell are you going to manage a kingdom?” Whitehall burst into a fit of red-faced laughter, and our entire end of the table followed suit, some more sincerely than others. The queen’s gaze darted to the head chair, which had been left empty in tribute to the king. I pretended to find Whitehall’s anecdote amusing, more for my sake than his. The General was keeping an incredibly close eye.
The air in the dining room was clotted with tension, and not just between the General and me. The queen laughed along with Whitehall’s jokes the same as everyone else, but I could see hatred blazing in her ice-blue eyes, and remembered what Thomas had told me—that Whitehall had been under consideration for the regency the queen now held, and he almost won it right out from under her, with considerable support from Juliana. Now, watching us get on so well together, she was visibly tense, as if she expected us to launch a campaign to overthrow her right there over the fish course.
For the first time since I entered Aurora, I was truly alone among the natives. Domestic staffers came in and out to serve and clean up after each course, but the KES agents—of which Thomas was one of many—were outside the room, presumably guarding the entrances. There were even a few agents on the balcony outside; I could see them out there in their black suits, pacing back and forth on high alert for any disturbances.
I hadn’t realized how much I depended on Thomas—if not for help and advice, then just as a familiar face in unfamiliar surroundings. I would’ve been so much more relaxed if he’d been there, watching from a distant corner while I played my part, rooting for me to succeed. I knew now why the General had trusted him with assisting me; it wasn’t just that he was a respected and talented KES agent, despite his age. It was that he had both the steely-eyed composure of a soldier and the ability to speak to me like I was a real person. Maybe that was why he and Juliana had become friends. I was experiencing firsthand how people acted around her. She was simultaneously above and below them; too high born to be treated like a normal teenage girl, but too young to be taken seriously as a political force in her own right. Thomas must’ve been a breath of fresh air, someone she could both rely on to protect her and also confide in. Again, I wondered how deep their connection had been, and, surprisingly, found myself hoping that friendship was as far as it had gone between them.
Of all the dinner guests, Whitehall was the only person who behaved like Juliana was a regular person. Thomas had told me earlier that Whitehall was Juliana’s godfather, which explained both his easy familiarity with her and the way she’d supported him when the regency was under dispute. He treated her like a beloved niece, and I did my best to act accordingly, even going so far as to call him Whit, which was apparently Juliana’s nickname for him.
“You remember how bad a rider Al was, don’t you, General?” Whitehall shoveled a few stalks of asparagus into his mouth and smiled amiably over at the General as he chewed. The General’s eyes widened just a fraction; he took a sip of wine, swallowed, and paused before responding.
You couldn’t have found two more different men than Whitehall and the General if you scoured the entire planet. Whitehall was a large man, loud and jovial and friendly. The General was smaller in height and in girth; he was lean and fastidious about his appearance, with a habit of speaking in a low voice so that you had to bend forward to hear him. Whitehall, the General, and the king had known each other since they were young, which made it all the more strange that Whitehall called the General by his title and not his name—something he didn’t do for the king.
“His Majesty was a fine rider from an early age,” the General said, his voice taut and dark with disapproval. “I’m surprised that you’re being so cavalier with your stories about our friend, Whitehall. Can’t you see how it’s upsetting Her Majesty?”
I glanced over at the queen; sure enough, her eyes were brimming with tears. Whitehall hung his head, duly shamed, and apologized to the queen for his mistake.
“It’s all right, Whitehall,” she said, lifting her chin imperiously. “But perhaps we should talk about happier things. Like, for instance, Juliana’s upcoming nuptials.”
I tensed as all eyes turned toward me. “What about them?”
“Prince Callum arrives tomorrow,” the queen reminded me. “Surely you must be thrilled, darling.” I had to restrain myself from visibly cringing at the bitter way she uttered the word “darling” and somehow managed to dredge up a smile.
“Oh yes.” The General’s eyes were on me, and all I could bring myself to say was, “I’m terribly thrilled.”
The queen laughed. “So shy! I was all nerves before my wedding. But there’s nothing to worry about, my dear.”
“I’m not worried,” I countered. “I hear great things about Prince Callum. I’m sure we’ll be happy together.”
“We’ve missed you here, Juli,” Whitehall told me, mercifully changing the subject. “I heard you were off relaxing at St. Lawrence. What in the world were you doing there for two weeks? I’m hardly at my country house three days before I’m restless and yearning for the city.”
“I like the country,” I said. “It’s peaceful. And I only have to change clothes once a day.”
That got a huge laugh from the table; the fact that Juliana was often photographed in multiple outfits on the same day was a well-worn joke in the tabloids. Yet another gem of wisdom from Thomas, whose knowledge of Juliana’s day-to-day was coming in handy even more than I would ever have expected.
“Fair point to you,” Whitehall said, tipping his glass in my direction. Just then, a phalanx of servers bustled in carrying covered silver trays in their white-gloved hands. “What’s this, then? Dessert?” He addressed the question to me with a dramatic wink.
“What …” A server placed a tray in front of me and lifted the lid. “Oh no.”
“I was in the European Federation last week,” Whitehall explained, while I stared at what was on my plate. “And our ambassador in Paris—you’ve met Richter Barnard, haven’t you, Juli?” I nodded, not sure she had but certain nobody would question me about it. “Anyway, he ordered this for us both, and I liked it so much I twisted the chef’s arm for the recipe to give to the Castle kitchen. I thought you might enjoy it. I know how much you love chocolate.”