Can You Blame Me?

"I'm afraid you have the law to blame for that," I answer honestly. "My step sister just became engaged. I wasn't permitted to attend events until recently. The only people I've had a chance to meet are those whom my father does business with."

"And their sons, it would seem."

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"I found it rather curious that none of the ladies at court has ever heard of you. I mean, your sister was here at the last ball. She stayed at court. Made friends. And yet she never once mentioned you. It's like you didn't exist then."

I smile politely as a lead weight rests at the bottom of my stomach. Trust Jessica to cause problems without even being here. Once again.

"And yet," Vasco continues, "Lowell Calligaris and Reos, Lord Harris, say they know you. They had a lot to say about you, in fact. Harris couldn't speak enough on your charms." Vasco makes a face. "Calligaris had … other things to say about your character."

I'll bet he did. Lowell is still bitter over my rejection.

My sister and my gentlemen friends are painting a horrible picture of me without even saying anything damning against me. But I can fix this.

"I'm afraid Lord Calligaris had asked my father for permission to court me before my sister was engaged. As a law-abiding gentleman, my father was obliged to refuse his request." I let my face fall into a look of sadness. "I'm afraid Lord Calligaris blames me for it. Can you believe it? It's as though he has no respect for those who set and carry out our kingdom's laws."

Which, of course, would be the five men and women before me.

Lord Vasco nods with new understanding. "Indeed. I shall have to revisit my earlier conversation with him."

And before then, I shall have to remind Lowell about what will happen should he divulge the nature of our previous acquaintance. Ladies aren't permitted lovers before marriage.

Just one of the many laws I will change once I'm sitting on the throne.

Just a hint of a rumour like that would ruin me and all my plans.

"Do enjoy your time at court, Lady Kensington," Vasco says. "I'm sure you will be happy to see many old faces, but might I suggest—if you're hoping to spend more time with the king, that is—that you make some female friends. Hmm? And perhaps try for some more traditional attire?" He looks down at my clothes with some distaste.

"I already have female friends, Lord Vasco. Perhaps you didn't question as many ladies as you ought to have at court."

"Is that so?" he asks.

"Yes, if you will excuse me."

I have three seconds to survey the orchards. First, my eyes landed on the group of ladies who screamed when Percy bounded in front of them. I mentally shake my head. Not them. Then my eyes light on a gathering of lords and ladies in a huddle. They look far too friendly for me to be seen there. And then I spotted two ladies apart from the rest. They sit on a bench before the creek ways down, enjoying some quiet away from everyone else.

Yes, they'll do.

I stride with purpose toward them. I feel the council's heated gaze on my back. They watch me the entire distance, which thankfully is much too far to be overheard.

"Hello," I say when I reach the pair. "My name is Loralie Kensington. Might I join you?"

The first girl brightens instantly, and I let my shoulders slump with relief. This is exactly the kind of response I needed the council to see.

"Of course, please sit! I'm Hanisa Janis. Please, call me Hansa."

I like her instantly, for that alone. Only friends exchange first names. Then I take in her attire. She's wearing pants underneath her overskirt. I doubt she had the outfit on hand. I wonder how many seamstresses had to stay up all night for her to wear it the next day.

Hasina's colouring is a rich umber with yellow undertones.

She wears her hair short, only about an inch from her scalp, the strands wrapping in tight coils. The lack of length shows off her gorgeous earrings, a pair of garnets encased in complicated brasswork.

"And this is my good friend Risana Paos."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Kensington," Risana says.

She wears a black gown with terribly heavy-looking petticoats. She barely manages to fit on the bench with the thickness of her skirts. Though all the nobles are dressed in fine clothing, I can tell that this lady is fabulously wealthy. Her skirts shine so brightly, I can practically see my reflection in them. Her hair is done up in a coiffure so intricate, it would take no fewer than three ladies to manage it. The strands are the same colour as my black hair, but her skin is a bit darker, more amber than my tan.

"Please call me Loralie," I say, following Hanisa lead.

Besides, I need to make friends quickly, don't I? I haven't had many opportunities to make friends, and it has been my experience that most ladies do not like me. Not when I'm their competition for the attention of men.

But these two are all sincere smiles.

"At last we meet!" Hanisa says. "I was going to approach you, but then I thought perhaps I shouldn't, since I didn't want to overwhelm you. What with everyone wanting to know who you are! And then I saw the council, which decided for me. I'm so relieved you've asked to join us. I've been dying to ask you who made the gown you wore last night. It was simply darling!"

"And deliciously scandalous," Risana adds. "I adore how adventurous you are with your wardrobe. It certainly caught the king's attention quickly." She smiles as though we've just shared some wicked secret.

They both look at me expectantly.

I say, "I actually design the outfits myself. I love to sew, and I hire a seamstress to help when I run short on time to make everything."

"You're joking!" Hanisa says, her long earrings swaying with the turning of her head. "No wonder you wore it so well. You designed it with your own figure in mind. I wrote to my seamstress as soon as the ball was over and offered her triple her usual rate if she could finish this outfit for me.

She did her best to heed my written instructions, but I still don't quite like the fit of the pants. It's simply brilliant to wear an overskirt over the top of them. Did you know? The reason the Jadean style faded away so quickly was that"—she lowers her voice to a whisper—"most girls couldn't handle having their bottoms so exposed. But you solved that problem, didn't you?"

I don't quite know what to make of the conversation, but a voice suddenly sounds from behind us, making me jump.

"Forgive me for interrupting talk of bottoms. I would gladly continue the conversation, but I simply must secure an introduction."

The newcomer strides around the bench to stand before us.

"Kastien Vasco. At your service, my lady."

"Vasco?" I ask as he takes my hand and kisses it. "You're Related to Ivan Vasco, the head of the king's council?"

Kastien sighs. "I'm afraid he's my uncle."

I don't see the resemblance. Kastien looks a couple of years older than me. He's long and lean—like the king, but his hair is a light brown, which he wears down to his shoulders.

His short beard is neatly trimmed. He wears a red silk waistcoat atop a black shirt, his cuff links in the shape of roses.

His nose was broken once, but it was set well. Only a small notch near the bridge gives anything of it away. It manages to make him look dangerous and dashing all at once. Were it not for the fact that I have to give the king my full attention, Kastien is exactly the sort of man I would find myself dallying with.

Risana presses her lips to my ear. "Kastien wasn't able to take his eyes off you at the ball last night. I think he's already taken with you. But, then again, who isn't?"

"I certainly can't fault you for your relatives. It is a pleasure to meet you, Kastien," I say, daring to use his first name. Just because I can't bed him, it doesn't mean I can't flirt. Our eyes meet, and he suddenly sizes me up in a new light. As a possibility. It's terribly mean to give him hope, but I just can't help myself.

"And where are your companions?" I ask. I'd seen Kastien earlier in the orchards. Before Percy ploughed into me. He was talking with two other men his age.

"Distracting the masses, of course." He nods over my shoulder.

I turn to see his friends intercepting other gentlemen coming my way.

"Wanted me to yourself, did you?" I ask.

"Can you blame me?" he asks.

I grin. "How long have the three of you been at the palace?" I ask, including the girls in the conversation.

"About six months," Risana says, "but Kastien has been here far longer, haven't you?"

"Yes," he says. "I've lived at the palace for years. Being on the king's council necessitates my uncle's living here. I asked to join him. I'm not really fond of living out in the country."

"Did you grow up with the king, then?" I ask.

Something on Kastien's face looks saddened by the question. "During our adolescence, yes. We were quite close actually. Along with my friends."

"Were?" I catch on to his use of the past tense.

"He pushed everyone away once he became king. He doesn't trust a soul. I suspect that's why no one is allowed near him."

"I suppose," Risana says after a pause in the conversation, "that I would be distrustful, too, if I were a king, knowing that the last one had been murdered."

I don't know much about the late king and queen or their murders, but I do know that the culprit was never caught. Some, of course, speculate that the new king is responsible.

But that hardly matters to me.

It has no bearing on my plans.

I just wanna be the queen.