The Golden Flower (#1 in the GOLDEN series) ✔

•T W E N T Y - E I G H T•

Oh, Jules.

Cordelia guffawed on the inside, picturing her brother talking back at Antoine. A few nobles spoke of it a few days prior, and it reached the Solar earlier that day, though somehow avoiding the Dowager Queen's ears.

Cordelia said nothing. While others might have taken advantage of such a situation—catching a sibling in a shameful position—she wouldn't. Nor would she ask for favors in return for protecting Jules' secrets, or threaten to reveal his excursions to their mother, or chide him for raising his voice in the King's presence.

Others gallivanted about propelling embarrassing stories about her brother, but she added nothing. The reports of the day didn't affect her, and she preferred not to get involved. As a Princess, all eyes were already on her; so pushing such foul tales would show her in a gloomy light.

She had to shine.

Besides, she didn't care what her brothers did. They often abandoned her anyway, so why would she bother? King Antoine accorded her less time than he had in the past—which wasn't frequent to start with. Her middle brother had run off near two years ago, tail between his legs, and though she loved his letters with beautiful drawings of the places he saw, she was furious with him. Jules, closest to her in age, paraded about Torrinni with his shirt half-open, his breeches half-fastened, his insides half-rotting from vigorous drinking, proclaiming to all who would listen that he enjoyed acting in such crude manners.

His ways, and Antoine's, only gave her migraines. She was too young to succumb to that sort of agony.

Most days, she had no choice but to tune in to the tales. Forced to visit the Solar with her mother and the Queen, she sat between them and feigned interest in their slander. Both claimed to frown upon scandals at court, yet they encouraged them while sitting atop their high horses and scowling.

Cordelia's nose wrinkled.

Mother is one thing; but Queen Adelaide is wretched and does not deserve to be on that throne.

Glancing at her vanity littered in paint and accessories, Cordelia sighed. Her lady-in-waiting brushed through her dark brown curls, and she couldn't help but snarl at her thoughts.

Adelaide, Queen of nothing!

Mother warned her to play nice. To accept Adelaide, to encourage other ladies to chat with her, befriend her, share mundane conversations and harmless gossip. A few obeyed, but most faked their affiliations for good favors—and in any case, there was no such thing as harmless gossip. Especially when most of the whispers concerned her brother and his adventures, her mother sneaking about, and her King and his lack of authority. They stung when they reached her ears.

The Queen, the Queen, the Queen—it all came down to her. Perched pretty in her chair, disinterested in the noise when she spread more false knowledge than anyone else. She relished being at the center of it all, twirling her tresses around her fingers and batting her lashes as if innocent, as if pure.