The Heiress Queen (Season Series Prequel)

Chapter 16

The days stretched into weeks as summer chilled into autumn, the sun disappearing earlier and earlier each evening. Isabelle's father wrote to her daily, keeping her apprised of the news from Kentshire and attempting to cheer her slowly sinking spirits.

After a month at the palace, Isabelle still hadn't received a single letter from Leopold.

She'd written to him almost daily, mostly recounting the petty frivolities the ladies of Highcastle court used to pass the time. She told him all about the second time the queen had summoned her to her study, so early that the sun hadn't even risen yet. Once again, the aging monarch had demanded that she remove her ring and, once again, Isabelle had refused. The queen had thrown all manner of threats her way, warning her before dismissing her that a queen would make for a formidable foe.

Isabelle couldn't help but think that the only formidable about Queen Leonora was her inflated sense of self-importance.

With her many weeks of experience at the royal court, Isabelle had slowly started to piece together which of the courtiers were the ones with any real influence. Countess Spencer, one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting, was always the first to sport any new style, the queen quickly following suit. Similarly, another lady-in-waiting, the wife to Lord Admiral Barrett, was who the queen looked to when it came to culture and entertainment. Lady Barrett had been the one to decide that the Royal Opera's season opening was far too outlandish and, as a result, the opera outing that the other debutantes had been looking forward to for days was abruptly cancelled.

In its place, the queen arranged a gaming night, only to once again decide, at the very last minute thanks to yet another of her ladies-in-waiting, that it was not entirely proper to gamble within the walls of the palace. That event, however, was not cancelled and Isabelle had a sneaky feeling that it had something to do with the king tiring of his wife's trifling indecision.

Each day was much of the same when it came to the debutantes, now that they'd all gotten to know one another. Much to Isabelle's dismay, Cora Neasmith had somehow clawed her way to the pinnacle of popularity, thanks mostly to her reputation as the most stylish of the debutantes. The evening after a ball where Cora had sported a rather exotic necklace that dripped diamonds down both her back and her front, the very same accessory had appeared on the necks of everyone else.

Henrietta Barclay, the snobbish redhead who had shared Prince Graham's table the second evening, and Cora had become fast friends, the two of them parading around as if they were queens in training already. Much to Isabelle's dismay, she and Violet seemed to have been relegated to the lowest popularity rank among the debutantes. She didn't mind so much for herself, but more for her quiet friend. Prince Graham continued to be a nuisance and a pest, commanding Isabelle's company for dinners, balls and outings, which often left Violet very much alone. Try as she might to convince Sam to at least talk with Violet when she was left on her own, Isabelle was thoroughly unsuccessful in redirecting his interest away from Cora Neasmith.

But court affairs were the least of Isabelle's worries, for she had far more important problems tainting her thoughts. She found herself staring south whenever her mind wandered, wondering what was happening across the sea in Ardalone that had prevented Leopold from writing to her. She'd instructed Lissa to send some of her letters from somewhere else in the city just to be sure that the palace wasn't preventing them from being sent.

Isabelle's mood had slowly soured, her sleep fitful and her patience for the ridiculous royal court of Highcastle waning. Her longing to return to Kentshire had almost turned painful, something she'd mentioned in her letters to her father, but his only response was for her to stay strong. He didn't have to remind her what the consequences would be because she was already acutely aware that her suffering was a small price to pay to feed her people.

She'd given up on attempting to befriend any of the other debutantes, especially as Prince Graham seemed bent on preventing such friendships from blooming. It was difficult enough attempting to integrate with the others, thanks to Henrietta's blatant animosity towards her, but with Prince Graham whisking her away and showering her with attention whenever she grew close with someone else, it was almost impossible for those budding friendships not to sour into jealousy.

To help herself cope, Isabelle had taken to feigning sick far more frequently than she should have. She knew that neither her ladies-in-waiting nor the queen believed that lie any more, but the only person who had so far discovered where she hid away on those days was Prince Graham. Surprisingly, whenever she ran to the sunny reading room to escape, he never disturbed her. He never mentioned her disappearances during their dances or dinners, but Isabelle had noticed that the room had been tidied up, the dust swept from the surfaces and a fire lit on the cooler days. She refused to be grateful, well-aware that he had most likely been the one responsible, because she adamantly refused to thaw her icy hatred towards the heir to the throne.

That was becoming an even more difficult battle, especially since sparring with the arrogant prince had turned into one of the only ways she could vent her pent-up frustration. No matter how rude she became, the prince continued to grin and spur her on, pushing her until she'd spewed enough verbal poison to unburden her anxious mind. Isabelle hated that he seemed to have figured out exactly where her breaking point was and that he never overstepped it.

She didn't dare to admit, even to herself, that she was beginning to look forward to their time together as it served as an escape from the monotony of courtly life.

Their time together, however, had proved to be more than just a simple distraction for Isabelle. Now that she'd gotten used to his games, she'd learned that while she was a far clumsier manipulator that he was, she could usually extract at least a bit of useful information from him if she kept her wits about her. She had no idea whether the prince let slip the useful details by choice or by accident, but thanks to him she'd learned some interesting facts about the twins serving as her ladies-in-waiting.

According to the prince, Laura and Marjorie had been assigned to her not because his mother had wanted them to act as spies, but rather because his aunt had hoped that they could befriend her. The queen's sister had wanted to ingratiate her daughters to Isabelle, the future duchess of Kentshire (and queen of Germania, Isabelle had put in, much to Graham's amusement), in the hopes that she would choose them as her own ladies-in-waiting. When Graham had revealed his aunt's plot, Isabelle had burst into a fit of laughter so raucous that she'd lost the count of their dance and had nearly knocked him over as she tripped on her skirts. He'd been forced to sweep her from the dance floor so she could collect herself, giggling like an idiot in the middle of a royal ball.

Much to Isabelle's frustration, however, the one person he'd remained tight lipped about was Alicia. She had never dared to ask him directly, for fear of hinting at her interest in the nosy lady-in-waiting, but when she'd returned to her suite after a debutantes-only dinner and discovered Alicia rummaging around her bedchamber, Isabelle had made up her mind. She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Alicia was spying for the queen, but now that she'd grown brazen enough to risk discovery as she snooped, something needed to be done about her.

Thankfully, a few days later, on a particularly warm, early autumn day, the prince invited both Isabelle and her ladies-in-waiting for a walk outside in the gardens.

Determined not to let the opportunity slip away, Isabelle accepted.