Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(75)

“Although you and Heinrich seem very content,” I said. “Perhaps the two of you should be planning a wedding. Seeing their king happy would do a great deal to boost the morale of the Andvarian people.”

Dahlia let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, my dear, I have no desire to marry Heinrich. Perhaps when I was young and starry-eyed, but not now.”

“But you would be queen,” Helene pointed out, with a pretty pout on her face, as if she couldn’t imagine anyone ever turning down that particular opportunity.

Dahlia shrugged. “I’m quite happy with my current arrangement with Heinrich. Besides, I don’t want to be queen. It’s far too much work for far too little reward.”

I drew in a breath, but she reeked of lime truthfulness. It was the first scent, the first emotion, I’d been able to sense over her strong rose perfume. Her answer surprised me. I would have thought that she would have demanded that Heinrich marry her after the first queen—Dominic’s mother—had died. Then again, I was hardly an expert on love and relationships. And Dahlia was right. As queen, she would have to become even more involved in the nobles’ petty disputes and games. I’d been queen for only a few months, and I was already thoroughly sick of that.

Dahlia stared at me. “Everleigh knows what I mean. Being queen isn’t nearly as much fun as everyone thinks it is. Am I right?”

“Well, not when you’re dodging assassins right and left,” I drawled, deciding to play her words off as another joke. “That does tend to tarnish one’s crown.”

The two women both politely chuckled again.

A knock sounded on the door, and a servant entered and said that Helene was needed to deal with some business in her workshop. She hugged Dahlia, air-kissed my cheeks again, and left.

Dahlia got to her feet. “It’s such a lovely morning. Let’s take a walk.”

She stuck her head out into the hallway and told her guards to meet us downstairs, along with Paloma. Then she crossed her chambers and opened one of the glass doors. I followed her.

We stepped outside onto the same balcony where I had seen Dahlia yesterday. Unlike my balcony, which was now devoid of greenery, thanks to Grimley and his massive tail, potted plants and flowers of all shapes and sizes lined the railing here.

“What a stunning collection you have,” I said.

“Oh, they’re not mine. Not really. Helene gave them to me,” Dahlia replied.

She trailed her fingers over the plants and flowers as she walked along the balcony, making the green leaves and bright blossoms bob up and down. She drew her hand back for a moment, so that it wouldn’t touch the spiky needles on a small gray cactus, then ran her fingers along the rest of the greenery sitting on the railing.

“I’m not much of a gardener, and the poor things wouldn’t even get watered if the servants weren’t around,” Dahlia confessed. “But Helene knows that I love flowers, and she often gives me cuttings from her greenhouse. She’s like the daughter I never had.”

Helene would have been Dahlia’s daughter—or at least her daughter-in-law—if she had married Sullivan. I wondered how Dahlia could be so friendly with the woman who’d broken her son’s heart. I didn’t think I could have managed it.

Unlike my balcony, this one featured a set of stairs, and Dahlia and I spiraled down them. Her two guards were waiting at the bottom, along with Paloma.

Dahlia set off down one of the paths that led into the gardens. I walked beside her, with the guards and Paloma trailing along behind us. It was a warm autumn day, and nobles, servants, and guards were going about their gossip and duties. Everyone bowed their heads and murmured greetings to Dahlia, while I received more flat, suspicious stares.

But the walk was pleasant enough, and Dahlia shared little facts about the gardens, along with the people we passed, as we moved into the hedge maze.

“It seems as if you know everyone at Glitnir, from the nobles to the servants,” I said, after she stopped to inquire about the newborn grandson of one of the kitchen cook masters.

Dahlia shrugged. “I suppose that I do. That’s where I started out, you see. In the kitchen.”

“You were a servant?”

Xenia had mentioned that, but I wanted to hear Dahlia’s story.

“Oh, yes. I was sent to work in the palace kitchen at a young age, so I grew up around Heinrich and the other nobles. The thing I loved best about Heinrich is that he always treated me as an equal. I was so happy that he did the same to Lucas.”

From everything I’d seen and heard, Heinrich was a good, fair, just king—except for his insistence that I marry Dominic.

“You’ve done quite well for yourself at court,” I said. “Your chambers are lovely, and everyone seems to respect you a great deal.”

Dahlia smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes, well, no one wants to piss off the king’s mistress. I imagine things are similar among the nobles at Seven Spire.”

I didn’t respond because things weren’t similar at Seven Spire. Oh, we had our share of torrid, illicit love affairs. The hearts and initials carved into the wall on the royal lawn proved that. But I’d never seen any mistress with the amount of respect, power, and wealth that Dahlia had. She was the de facto queen of Glitnir, only without the official weight and concerns of the crown on her head. It seemed as though she’d found a way to have the best of both worlds. I envied her that.