Page 70 of Fated to the Wicked King

Of course, various uncertainties filled my brain, occupied my every thought, much like that of a niggling itch one could not scratch—permutations upon permutations of possibilities, of the odds, of statistics in numbers, wildly spun theories, all the endless what-ifs which could occur in this or any other alternate world.

If I ever managed to make my machine work, if I was finally able to make it home… I wasn’t even sure if I really wanted to.

What sort of world would I be coming back to? What sort of person did I even used to be?

Would my family or friends have been waiting for me all this time? Did I have any family or friends waiting for me? Perhaps everyone had already given me up for dead. What if everyone had already forgotten all about me?

Or worse, what if there was a reason I had left—a bad one? And what if no one was awaiting my return? What if, in fact, they preferred that I stayed away? What if I actually had no home to go back to?

Not to mention that ever-present prevailing nagging thought in the back of my mind, which often won most of my pondering.

Nobody wanted me back.

I shook my head to clear it. I would cross that bridge when I got to it—if I ever did. There was no sense in counting those chickens before they hatched.

The Duchess’s melodious voice, carrying across the veranda steps, broke through my reverie as she waved us up. “Come along then. It’s time for a spot of tea.”

We were led into the sunroom where brilliant light poured through towering glass windows, bathing everything in orange and gold. Fragrant tea leaves, citrus, and fresh flowers filled the air from the quaint round table, which had been laid with a lavish spread that looked almost too beautiful to touch.

Tiered trays overflowed with delicate pastries dusted in powdered sugar, flaky fruit tarts glazed with berries, warm breads split with cream and honey, and small cakes decorated with edible flowers. Polished silver gleamed among porcelain teacups painted with winding blue floral patterns, which sat beside glass jars of preserves and crystal dishes of sugared fruits.

The Wicked King stood to one side, his dark clothing not only providing a stark contrast but seeming to drink in the brightness around him. Of course, he hadn’t cared to see Sophie and Gregory on their way. His shadows curled tentatively at his feet despite the sunlight flooding the room.

My gaze darted warily between his still figure and the Duchess. With my heightened senses, I caught the faintest brush of her apprehension. As far as I was aware, she hadn’t seen Rabb in about eight months either. Ever since he cut all ties with his past.

With the sullen frown on his face, despite our having overcome our recent near-death situation, it didn’t seem like a happy reunion was in the cards.

“Did His Majesty not keep in touch with the Duchess, either after all this time?” I covered my mouth so only Chez could hear my whisper.

Chez, easily reading the room, responded similarly hushed. “Do you think they’re going to perform pleasantries and pretend nothing has been amiss?”

Utterly baffled, I lifted my shoulders. “How should I know? You are the ones who have been friends for centuries.”

The king lifted his chin as the Duchess approached, her steps remaining as serene as her facial expression.

It was clear that even though he was King of all Wünder, he still held the Duchess in high regard. They had both served the Red Queen for the longest time with their equally impressive magic.

He shifted his stance as she took another step closer. It almost looked like he was about to acknowledge the Duchess with a small gesture of respect.

The Duchess’s large feather fan snapped him over the head.

“OW!” Rabb’s eyes bulged in stunned disbelief.

I almost released a sudden burst of laughter.

Chez, on the other hand, collapsed onto his back on the marble floor, kicking his paws wildly as his uncontrollable laughter spilled in fits of hilarity.

The Duchess dared to look down her nose at Rabb, her blue eyes narrowing. “Your Majesty, it is an honor to host you at my estate. Finally. After all this time. Amidst multiple ignored invitations.” Her words were flat, displeased.

Rabb hissed through his teeth, “I was rather busy.” Lifting his hand, he rubbed at the sore spot on the crown of his head.

“Yes, yes. We’ve all heard how busy you’ve been. I do sincerely hope it has been a fulfilling use of your precious time.” She rolled her eyes, closing her fan shut with a snap.

The king’s face darkened as he grumbled, “I take it you no longer wish for me to kill you,” he offered, as it had always been the Duchess’s standing request of the Red Queen’s best assassin.

“Of course not.” The Duchess’s tone turned wry. “With the Red Queen no longer holding my leash, I have found many other fascinating hobbies to occupy my time—which you would know if you had bothered to visit or write.” Her blue eyes widened. “For almost a year.”

Infinitely amused, I couldn’t help a shake of my head.