Royals (Royals #1)(48)
Dungeons and beheadings may not be on the agenda, but I bet she kind of wishes they were.
Glynnis steps forward then, an iPad in one hand, a folder in the other, and she leans down to murmur something into the queen’s ear.
Queen Clara lifts one hand, waving that off, and then gestures for Glynnis to hand over the folder.
The room is very quiet as she flips through its contents, and I squirm a little on the sofa, my fingers clutching my skirt. I want to twist around and look at Miles, still wondering why he’s even here. He hasn’t said anything, but I wonder if he’s in trouble for taking me to Seb’s club last night. I also wonder if Isabel has seen all the news and what she might think.
Closing the folder, Queen Clara fixes me and my parents with another smile. Her nails are painted the same color as the sofa she’s sitting on, and they drum against the folder for a moment.
“What a pickle,” she says with a little laugh. “But such is life with teenagers, hmm?”
She directs that at Mom, who sits up a little straighter on the sofa and pats my knee. “Our girls have never been much trouble,” she says, which, in my case, is kind of a lie, but I appreciate her loyalty.
Queen Clara’s smile tightens, like someone just turned screws on the sides of her mouth. “Given what I heard about An Reis, I’d say Daisy is making up for lost time,” she says, and my stomach drops.
Ellie is still sitting in that chair, her fingers laced over one knee. Alex is beside her, and I see his hand drop briefly to her shoulder, squeezing.
“I am so sorry for what happened—” I start, but the queen flicks my words away like they’re a mosquito buzzing around her head.
“My brother’s wife is the one owed an apology, not me. And in any case, there’s now a much larger issue to deal with.”
Okay, this is officially kind of dumb. Everyone’s acting like there are pictures of me and Seb making out on top of Edinburgh Castle or something instead of a few blurry shots of me coming out of his club.
I nearly say that—okay, I was going to leave out the makingout part—when Glynnis steps forward and says, “I’m sure this all seems a little silly to you, Daisy, but we have to be very careful with the optics right now.”
Right. Optics.
Tapping on her iPad, Glynnis continues. “Any kind of rumor of things between you and Prince Sebastian has the potential to overshadow the wedding, plus it causes the kind of gossip we try to avoid.”
“Has anyone said that to Seb?” I can’t help but ask, and Glynnis glances up at me even as the queen’s smile slips.
“Sebastian understands his role, I assure you,” she says, and, yup, really gonna be lucky to get out of this room with my head still on my shoulders.
Queen Clara waves her hand at Glynnis. “Montrose,” she says, and I wonder if that’s some kind of code word to have me dragged out of here, but Glynnis just nods, tapping away again.
“Yes, the Duke of Montrose and his daughter, Lady Tamsin, are expected to join us for part of the summer. Lady Tamsin is a lovely young woman, and we’re hoping that Sebastian takes a fancy to her.”
Glynnis gives me a little wink at that, and I blink, confused.
But when I look over at my parents, they’re just watching the queen, Dad’s fingers curled tightly around the handle of his teacup.
“I’m not sure—” I start, and Queen Clara cuts me off.
“One of my sons is marrying an American girl from a frankly questionable family,” she says bluntly, and I see Ellie draw herself up tight. Alex’s hand is still on her shoulder, but he’s standing just as stiffly, and Miles turns from the window to watch all of us.
Mom sighs softly, but Dad just fixes the queen with a gaze that used to hold whole arenas full of people in its thrall. “Be offended if you didn’t think we were questionable,” he says.
The queen ignores him. “Eleanor is a lovely young lady, and we’re pleased to have her join the family,” she goes on. “But one son following his heart is quite enough. Sebastian can marry whomever he chooses, but he will pick a girl from the right sort of family. Perhaps it will be Lady Tamsin, perhaps not, but the point remains that there cannot be even the littlest hint that he may be cavorting with your other daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Winters.”
“Cavorting?” I echo. “I literally just went to get my friend from his weirdo posh-people club. And why are we even talking about marriage when he’s seventeen?”
The queen’s eyes may be the same gorgeous blue as her sons’, but they are cold and hard as sapphires when they turn to me. “I don’t expect you to understand,” she says. “But I do expect you to stay clear of my son.”
Holding up both hands, I perch myself on the edge of the sofa. “That is not a problem, trust me. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
Another smile, this one just as tight as the last. “Then we’re in agreement,” she says, and I hope we’re about to be dismissed so that I can go find Isabel at her hotel and tell her all about this particular bit of Banana Pants Crazy, but then the queen once again signals to Glynnis.
“Obviously we need to kill this story as soon as possible,” she says, and Glynnis nods, stepping forward again.
“And that’s where Miles comes in,” she says.
I twist on the couch to look over at Miles, but he’s facing away from the window now and very much not looking in my direction.