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How was that possible?
Why didn’t she attempt this sooner?
How could she be certain what she saw was true?
“I do not have all the answers,” Thicket said. “All I know is that somehow, Lavender has maintained a connection to me even after I woke up from the sleeping curse. A connection that I believe allowed me access into her own memories.”
“Does any of this even matter?” Count Armand asked, tapping his finger impatiently against the table. “Our circumstances have not changed. We should be focusing our attention on our next steps, not sorting through an irrelevant mystery.”
“That brings me to why I gathered you here today.” Thicket took in a deep breath, preparing for the climax of her speech. “I want to rescue Princess Alouette. Dymree withdrew their alliance to focus their attempts to free her from the Desert Kingdom. But if we were to free her, our alliance will be reinstated and we can proceed with our original plan.”
The Council members glanced at one another, bending their heads to whisper into the ears of those closest to them. Thicket’s nails tore at her thumb, waiting with bated breath.
Duke Deveraux cleared his throat, sending nervous sparks flying through her veins.
“The idea is noble, Your Highness, but we do not have the time or resources to spend retrieving Princess Alouette, nor are we equipped to do so. We no longer have any relevant intel on the Desert Kingdom. Sending a unit might just cause us casualties we cannot afford, not to mention the possibility of provoking them into forgoing the Treaty.”
Thicket clenched the folds of her dress, willing herself not to back down. “Then let me go.” The statement sent a ripple of shock through the room. “I can sneak in undetected and free Alouette before anyone knows I am there.”
“We cannot on good conscience send our future queen on a mission this dangerous for the sake of another kingdom.”
Thicket wanted to argue that it would severely help their efforts against Lavender, not to mention that they seemed to have no problem sending her to Minloc alone, but Duke Deveraux had already redirected his attention to the room at large, dismissing her.
Bern and Elian wore equal expressions of frustration, yet held their tongues. Not even Caspian knew how to interject. Thicket balled her fists. She had done her best to be the princess they expected her to be and had shown up time and time again, desperately trying to earn back their trust. Yet it appeared as though Lavender had been right. It wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough.
Her shoulders started to cave, the embers of hope that had ignited flickering out.
“With all due respect,” a brusque voice cut through the room, silencing it. Thicket’s head shot up. Marcellus had stepped away from his usual position by the wall to stand at the head of the table, his eyes alight with a fire she wasn’t used to seeing from him. Beside her, Caspian shook his head, a silent warning to stand down.
But if there was one thing Marcellus was incapable of, it was keeping quiet on matters he believed in. “She is supposed to be your queen. If she says she wants to go to the Desert Kingdom to save Princess Alouette and this alliance, her wishes should be absolute.”
The Council member’s faces flushed with indignation, while General Cales stared open mouthed.
“And who the hell are you supposed to be?” Count Armand demanded, looking at Marcellus as though he had never seen him before. As though he hadn’t complained just yesterday about him forcing the Council to meet with Thicket.
Though Marcellus’ expression remained unchanged, she didn’t miss the way his hands tightened by his sides. “Nobody.”
“Then why are you interrupting a private meeting?”
Marcellus didn’t answer, returning to a being of stone, the ever dutiful guard. But it didn’t matter if he was obedient now. He had already said too much.
“You are dismissed,” Count Armand sneered. Neither Count Beauregard nor Duke Devereaux objected.
Marcellus’ jaw ticked. He glanced at Thicket, lips set into a tight line, then dropped his gaze and took a step towards the double doors.
Setting her jaw. Thicket stood. “He stays.” For once, her voice didn’t waver.
“Your Highness,” Count Beauregard objected. “He—”
“He is my personal guard. If he leaves, I leave.”
Marcellus refused to glance her way. He stood, still positioned halfway outside the room. Yet Thicket swore she saw the slightest tremble of his hand.
“Your guard, he may be, but he disrespects you by speaking out of turn. Perhaps you should appoint someone new.”
Thicket’s chest ignited. She wanted to say that he wasn’t just someone who could be replaced. That rank and formalities didn’t mean anything to her. But they did to the Council.
Marcellus was right. She was their future queen. She was the only one in the room with Vogeli blood. That gave her power and authority, even if she didn’t fully understand or agree. She needed to stop worrying about upsetting them and start getting angry. She may not have been the same Princess Thicket Rose Vogeli they all knew, but she was still their princess in name, title, and blood. By their rules it didn’t matter if she was qualified. All that mattered was that she spoke up and made her wishes known.
