Page 95 of Waking Roslyn

My heart squeezed. It was an apology I had never expected to receive, and having it given so unexpectedly left my heart a little raw, but also hopeful. “Thank you, Lord Everett.”

He gave a bow. “I shall leave you in peace. Good evening, my lady.”

I blinked in shock for several moments and then turned to John. “That was…unexpected.”

He was staring after Everett, his brow furrowed. “Do you believe him?” he asked, turning his eyes to me.

All the broken bits of my younger self wanted nothing more than to think Everett had finally decided I was worthy of kindness. I let out a sigh. “I’d like to. But believing him seems rather foolish.” Still, even if he didn’t mean it, at least he was being outwardly pleasant. That counted for something, didn’t it?

My parents rejoined me, and together we started to make a large circle around the room. My parents wanted everyone to see me, but we were also slowly making our way over to the king and queen. It was important that we pay our respects, and we all hoped that if Their Royal Highnesses greeted me pleasantly, everyone else would follow suit.

But I had my doubts. As we made our way through the crowd, allowing ourselves to be seen but avoiding any significant interactions, I watched as news of who I was and what that meant filtered through the crowd. Most didn’t seem openly hostile, and I had to credit the birth of the new prince for that. Still, few actually looked welcoming.

We made it to the throne dais and waited for the couple in front of us to finish greeting the royal couple. I remembered King Terius always being stuffy, and he still was. His first queen had always been kind to me, and she had been the one to send my parents the warning about the danger I was in. But I didn’t know anything about this new queen. She was younger than his first wife but held herself with poise and just the right amount of indifference. To the right of the king sat Prince Marcos. He was nine years old now and looked far less fragile than I remembered him as a small child. Between the royal couple sat a bassinet with a sleeping infant inside. The baby, Prince Geralt, was the reason for the celebration and seemed content to be on display.

When the couple in front of us moved on, I stayed one step behind my parents and curtsied when they did.

“Rise,” the king said, and we stood. His eyes cut to me. “I see your daughter has returned.”

“She has indeed, Your Majesty. We are most grateful to have her home.” My father always did the talking in these situations.

“Ah, yes,” the young queen said. “I had heard you were away. Are you glad for the birth of my child?” she asked, tilting her head toward her sleeping baby. “Or is it a disappointment?” Her words were blunt and shocking, but she said them in such a neutral tone that I had no idea if she was just curious or if she was suspicious of my motives. I suddenly worried about how my sudden return at this moment might be viewed.

Still, it took me only a moment to respond since I was more than happy to tell her the truth. “I am overjoyed by this blessed occasion, my queen. To know that the crown will stay securely in your royal line is glorious news indeed,” I told her in all sincerity.

She studied me for a few moments more before allowing a small smile to curve her mouth. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Enjoy the evening,” King Terius said in dismissal, and we each bent low before moving on.

“Well,” my mother said as she walked close beside me. “I think that went well.”

“Yes,” my father agreed. “You handled that wonderfully, Roslyn.”

“I only told the truth.”

He looked down at me and smiled. “Exactly.”

We found a spot close to the dance floor where we could all watch without looking like we were avoiding anyone. I expected we would stay there for some time before moving strategically around the room, but after only one dance, Everett approached me.

He greeted my parents first. “Your Graces, how are you?”

“Lord Everett,” my father replied with reserved politeness. “It’s a lovely evening.”

“It is. I was wondering if I might have the pleasure of dancing with your daughter.” He looked to me.

I startled at the suggestion. His apology had been astounding enough, but actually inviting me to dance?

I could hear my father’s confusion when he answered, “If she wishes.”

Everett—Lord Everett—offered his hand. “Lady Roslyn?”

It was only because of my many years of practice that I was able to settle my hand in his with a polite nod even while my insides squirmed with confusion.

He led me out onto the dance floor and part of me tensed, fully expecting him to say or do something snide, rude, or controlling. Perhaps he would pinch my arm or step on my foot like he had done so many times as a child.

Instead he was a perfect gentleman. He didn’t pull me too close. He wasn’t forceful. He was polite and engaging and almost…kind?

“You seem to have gained the queen’s favor,” he commented.