Royal Fools

XXII. The Reunion

The music had stopped. She could swear everyone stopped breathing, too. And as if on cue, the room curtsied and stepped back like the red sea for Moses.

And that's how he found her, with an empty glass of wine to her lips, standing on the opposite side of the ballroom. But the man walking toward her didn't look like he was heading toward the promised land. He was the Pharaoh chasing after Moses.

One could hear a pin drop as he stalked across the room toward her. And while all was still around her, her heart pounded inside her chest, vibrating in her ear. The way he looked at her, she could tell she did something wrong. And perhaps she did.

And suddenly, her treacherous memory decided to work, and she remembered Emory's warnings in Winfield hours before she departed.

"Stay away from Picadilly."

"Party anywhere but Picadilly."

"Picadilly is not safe at the moment."

He stopped in front of her and she could feel all eyes on them. Their curiosity echoed in the air, but no one spoke.

He took the glass from her hand and handed it over to Henry who appeared by his side.

"Are you ready to go home?" His question was meant only for her to hear, but the room was too quiet she was sure everyone heard it.

"No," she replied.

"Yes," Lucy whispered beside her.

Florence slowly shook her head. Why would she place herself somewhere where Emory could scold her? She was not daft.

"I warned you about Picadilly," Emory said through his teeth.

"Among hundreds of others," she snapped back.

"Not here, the two of you," Henry warned them under his breath, smiling at the crowd as he did so.

Emory took her hand and pulled her to his side. She would have resisted, but Lucy pushed her.

Lady Steward blocked their path, her eyes glimmering with awe. "Your Majesty! It is an honor!" She curtsied deeply and tugged Marjorie beside her to do the same. Marjorie followed her mother, her face completely baffled as her eyes locked on Emory and Florence's hands.

When Florence saw the realization hit her friend, she realized that leaving might be a good idea after all.

"You have a delightful party going on here," Emory said to Lady Steward. "However, I'm afraid I can't prolong my stay." He looked down at Florence, a tight smile on his face. "I wish to do the honor of taking the princess home."

"O-Of course!" Lady Steward said, moving aside as Emory pulled Florence forward.

"Good night, ladies," she heard Henry say behind them.

She hastened her steps as all eyes followed their departure from the ballroom. And there were more outside in the hall as they waited for their coats.

"I'll wait in the carriage—" Emory squeezed her hand in warning and she let out a huff. The coats arrived and Emory put hers around her shoulders without a word, his face unreadable.

When they stepped outside, she turned to the right to find Gabrielle and their carriage, but Emory caught her hand. "Where are you going?"

"My carriage—"

He pulled her toward a bigger carriage already waiting for them. She grimaced, biting her lip.

"Inside," he ordered. His tone was gentle, which made it scarier.