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“Do not undo all her good work now,” her sister-in-law said fiercely. “Pass her that goblet.”

Wine was pressed into her hand, and Aimee raised it to her lips with nerveless fingers. She managed a glance toward the arena and found Lord Kentigern had retreated to the center where he and a second knight were awaiting the king’s commendation. Vawdrey, she realized was the runner-up. They both knelt awaiting the command to rise.

Aimee moistened her lips with wine and tried to moderate her grip on the goblet stem. She could still feel curious, burning gazes directed at her, but strangely enough, she felt more clammy than hot. Her gaze fell on the lady in the brown dress, who was sat in front of them with her back very straight. The garland lay neglected on the bench beside her, for it seemed she had no desire to wear it on her head. She had a small patch of sweat at her middle back where she had perspired through her woolen gown.

With an effort, Aimee dragged her gaze away. Not for the wide world would she want anyone to notice the direction of her stare. He had given the tourney crown to another. She felt raw, a figure of pity and ridicule. Holding her head high, Aimee wished she could sink through the floorboards.

This dress, too, she thought wretchedly, made things worse. If only she could rip it from her body. Devoutly, she wished she had been led more by her sister’s advice. Ursula had known the dress was too much, and Aimee had not heeded her. How much she would have been spared if she had only listened to Ursa’s wise counsel. Freda’s hand lightly covered her own, and Aimee turned her head to give her a reassuring smile.

From the pained look on Freda’s face, Aimee guessed her efforts were not convincing. Freda leaned forward and whispered, “She has gone.”

Aimee blinked. “Who has?”

“That woman,” Freda replied, nodding significantly.

Aimee ventured another glance in front and saw the empty spot on the bench. The beautiful garland of summer flowers lay forlornly in the spot she had vacated. Aimee felt another pang. How highly she would have prized such a gift, and yet the woman in the brown dress had rushed away and abandoned it!

It really did seem the final insult to the whole debacle. She sat and smarted, barely noticing the flurry of approaching footsteps until the royal pages were stood in front of her, bowing low. One of them was speaking in a clear, boyish voice. “Her majesty, Queen Armenal, requests your presence in the royal box, milady.”

Aimee blinked. A royal audience! At this, her lowest, most disgraced hour. She looked hopelessly, first at Freda and then at Magnatrude.

Her sister-in-law nodded grimly. “We shall accompany you, of course,” she said, looking as though the prospect were something akin to mounting the executioner’s block.

“Of course!” Freda agreed hurriedly, though she had turned very pale at the prospect.

Aimee tried to remind herself as they followed in the wake of the youthful pages that she had always dreamed of such an honor. In her dreams, of course, the moment was vastly different to this one. She did not feel sticky and wilted from a day sat packed in the stands on a hot summer’s day. She had not been scorned by her own husband in favor of another woman. She did not look like a prize idiot.

The royal box was flanked with guards and attendants. Aimee was waved through, but Freda and Magnatrude were bade to sit and wait on the outer edges. Her majesty was all benevolent smiles. Aimee gave her lowest curtsey and hoped she did not look the crumpled wreck she imagined she appeared.

“My dear Baroness Kentigern!” the queen welcomed her, as though she were quite an old friend. “Come, approach me.”

She turned to frown at the ladies-in-waiting who flanked her. “Shoo! Away with you! How closely you do clamor! All of you shall retreat now,” she commanded imperiously. “Apart from Jane.” She turned back to Aimee who was approaching with some trepidation. “Jane is wholly trustworthy and shall not betray our confidences.”

Aimee’s eyes widened. Confidences? She could see no sign of the king, who had absented his own seat and must have taken himself off. The ladies-in-waiting fluttered away from the queen like a flock of pretty birds, leaving only one who stood very demurely and quietly to the queen’s right. With much dragging of feet and clear reluctance, the gaggle filed out to the outer benches of the stand casting a good many glances and pouts over their shoulders.

“Stupid creatures,” the queen complained bitterly. “If you only knew what it was like to be surrounded by fools all day. All the sensible ones have lives outside of court, and I am left with the dregs!”

Unsure what else to do, Aimee bobbed another curtsey by way of reply. The queen patted the brocade footstool that matched her own chair. “Come and seat here beside me. You must not be shy, for I am quite delighted to make your acquaintance. You have enlivened an event that threatened to be most dull!”

Aimee approached and hitched her skirts carefully before sinking down onto the cushioned footstool. The queen extended a graceful hand to her, and Aimee dutifully kissed it.

“I thought so,” Queen Armenal exclaimed, capturing Aimee’s chin and turning her head, first one way and then the other. “Why, you are quite a pretty creature! Certainly, far too pretty to be married to that brute Kentigern! They say your father is the richest merchant in all Karadok. Is that so?”

Aimee’s head whirled at the queen’s rapid change of subject. “I believe so, Your Majesty.”

“Certainly, he must be a very cruel man,” the queen commented thoughtfully, releasing Aimee’s chin to cup her own. “Who cares only for his coffers!”

“Oh no, Your Majesty!” Aimee objected, quite horrified that the queen should think such a thing. “My father is the most kind and considerate of men.”

“Kind? Considerate?” The queen seemed astonished. “But how can this be?”

“He has always been the best of fathers.”

The queen seemed much struck by this and nodded slowly. “Ah, nowI see,” she said, with dawning comprehension. “Your greatest desire in life, it was to be a great lady?”

“Oh no, Your Majesty!” Aimee gave a bitter smile. “I was a good deal more foolish than that.”

The queen tipped her head to one side. “But I do not think you look like a fool,” she said. “And I am quite an expert on these matters, I assure you!”