Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(33)

The others must have sensed my mood because they left me alone—except for Calandre. Her sisters were riding in another car, but she’d boarded this one, although she had been huddled in the corner so far, drawing in a sketchbook. Finally, she worked up the nerve to come over to me.

Looking ill at ease, Calandre cleared her throat. “My queen? May I sit?”

I waved my hand toward the opposite seat, and she dropped into it. We silently scrutinized each other for the better part of a minute before she cleared her throat again.

“I wanted to ask you something that has been on my mind for several weeks now.”

I waved my hand again, telling her to continue.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said. “I was quite honored to be chosen to be your personal thread master . . .”

“But you’re wondering why I picked you?”

Calandre nodded. “Yes. I only became Queen Cordelia’s thread master because the man serving her took ill and no one else was readily available. But Cordelia was never very particular about what she wore or how she looked, and she kept me on out of routine and convenience.”

She grimaced, as though what she was about to say next pained her. “And Cordelia didn’t care that my father was a common tailor who married a minor noblewoman and that neither one of them had much money. She also didn’t care that I don’t have nearly as much magic as others at court.”

Her cheeks flushed, and I knew she was thinking about Fullman’s insult. “After Cordelia’s death, Vasilia chose someone else as her thread master, and I was banished to a little workshop on the seventh floor. Even though I was expecting such a thing, it was still . . . humiliating to be dismissed so abruptly. But as you know, I have never been particularly powerful or popular at court.”

“Neither was I—and look at me now.”

Calandre’s blue gaze lifted to the crown on my head. “You certainly have . . . prospered in recent months.”

I arched an eyebrow. “That’s a nice way of saying that I killed my cousin.”

She grimaced again. “Perhaps you should tell me if there is anything special that you require of me or my sisters while we’re in Andvari.” She gestured at her sketchbook on a table in the corner. “I’ve already started designing a gown for the royal ball the king is holding in your honor. I would be happy to show it to you.”

“There’s no need. I know you’ll make something lovely.”

Calandre frowned. “Lovely is not good enough for the queen of Bellona. You need something spectacular, and I’m not sure that I can give it to you.”

“Lovely is more than good enough for me,” I said in a firm voice. “I’ll leave spectacular to the preening peacocks at court.”

She smiled a little at that, but her features remained troubled, as if she was worried about my suddenly dismissing her from my service. Her fortunes must have fallen even further than I’d realized when Vasilia had chosen someone else as her thread master.

I studied the other woman, wondering how much I could trust her. But I had to start trusting other people, even if just a little bit. My friends were already spread too thin trying to help me hang on to the throne, and I needed more allies.

“Do you remember that royal ball I spoke of during the court session?”

She nodded. “The one where Tolliver insulted you.”

“Tolliver didn’t just insult me,” I replied. “He stepped on the hem of my gown and made me trip. Everyone saw me fall, and I ripped my gown and scraped my hands, which only made Tolliver and his friends laugh more. I got to my feet and ran into the closest bathroom. I was going to stay there until the ball was over and I could sneak back to my room, but another girl came inside. And the strangest thing happened—she actually used her magic to fix my dress and help me clean up.”

Understanding dawned in Calandre’s gaze.

“I told everyone at court that I remember every insult, every cruel and petty thing they ever did to me.”

She frowned, not seeing my point. “So?”

I shrugged. “So I remember the small kindnesses too.”

Calandre’s brows furrowed together, and she gave me an incredulous look, as if she couldn’t believe that I had chosen her now because of how she had taken pity on me all those years ago. She didn’t speak for several seconds.

“Thank you for answering my question,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything else, my queen.”

I waved my hand, dismissing her. Calandre nodded at me again, then retreated back to her corner seat, opened her sketchbook, and returned to her design.

And so I was alone again—until Sullivan sat down across from me.

Even though I had seen him in the courtyard earlier, I still drank in the sight of him. The way the sunlight made his dark brown hair gleam like polished mahogany. How his eyes could seem as cold as ice or as hot as stars, depending on his mood. The dark stubble that always made me want to smooth my hand over his jaw. The way his long gray coat perfectly draped over his broad, muscled shoulders. Sometimes, I wondered if I would ever get tired of looking at him. I doubted it.

Sullivan glanced at me, then stared out the windows, still giving me some space, but I didn’t have time to brood. Not anymore. Besides, this trip was just as important to him as it was to me.