The Indentured Queen Read online

  “I’m not finished.”

  Benjamin looked at Katrín to see her glaring at a member of the staff. His own plate had already been removed.

  The waiter looked to Benjamin who gave a slight nod. He left Katrín’s plate.

  Benjamin frowned. “You haven’t eaten much.”

  “You may be used to all the pomp and circumstance and having everyone scrutinize your every move, but I’m sure not. It’s messing with my appetite.”

  “Then it’s probably just as well you won’t be dancing. If you haven’t eaten, you may not have the energy.”

  “And I wouldn’t want to embarrass you or the family by passing out at the wedding ball.”

  “Precisely.” Did he detect a hint of sarcasm in her tone? No one was ever sarcastic with him except occasionally Genevieve. “You have time for a few more bites then you’ll be able to freshen up quickly before we have to walk over to the banquet hall.”

  “And no one will think it’s weird that I can walk around this place but not dance?”

  “For all they know you’re only walking when in sight of people.”

  She pushed a bit of food around with her fork. “At least my family will be there.”

  She might not be his favorite person, but he didn’t relish telling her. “Your family has already left. Your mother and brother both weren’t feeling well and went home.”

  Benjamin watched as she tried to hide the emotions playing across her face. “Oh.”

  “Sir? It’s time.”

  The voice behind him wasn’t one he recognized but he knew no one would dare interrupt if it wasn’t actually time. He moved back from the table as someone else held Katrín’s chair for her.

  “This way, ma’am.”

  Katrín glanced at him then followed the woman who had appeared from nowhere. Benjamin knew where he was going, with Chamberlain walking next to him toward the anteroom near the banquet hall.

  “Any other directions for me this evening, sir?” Chamberlain asked.

  “See I’m not disturbed once I leave the ball. I’ll say goodbye to my family in the morning before they leave.” A comment from Josiah about wanting to get to know his soon-to-be sister-in-law after Benjamin and Katrín returned from their honeymoon reminded Benjamin that others would expect them to go on a wedding trip as well. Since there was no actual reason for one, he’d decided to send his family on a trip to see Darius and Esther, ostensibly giving himself and Katrín time alone without actually leaving town.

  In reality, he expected to see little of his wife.

  “Shall I have the queen’s belongings moved to the consort’s quarters, sir?”

  It took Benjamin a few seconds to remember Chamberlain was talking about Katrín and not his mother, the former queen. No one else had used the title since Benjamin’s grandmother died when he was a child.

  “Not immediately.”

  “There’s nothing the queen will need before then?”

  Normally, Benjamin was pretty good at reading Chamberlain’s tone of voice, but his assistant seemed to be doing a very good job of hiding whatever it was he felt.

  “I’ll have her tell you if she does.”

  “Nothing else you need me to take care of?”

  Even with Chamberlain’s carefully modulated tone, Benjamin knew there must be something he’d missed. “If you think of anything else, feel free to take care of it.”

  “I wouldn’t dare to presume that I knew better than you what needs taken care, sire.”

  Sire? Chamberlain never called him that. Your Majesty in formal settings or first thing in the morning, sir the rest of the time, but rarely sire. And his assistant presumed all the time, though he generally couched it in such a way that it sounded like it was Benjamin’s idea in the first place.

  Chamberlain didn’t seem to be so inclined this time, so Benjamin let it drop. He quickly brushed his teeth then emerged back into the anteroom.

  Katrín already waited there. Her head was bowed and her shoulders slumped, but then she straightened and held her head higher. She turned. “Are we ready to do this?”

  With a smile pasted on her face, Katrín slid her hand into the king’s elbow. Despite her earlier determination not to think of him as King Benjamin, she doubted she’d ever be able to think of him as just Benjamin.

  An unseen announcer’s voice boomed through the ballroom. “King Benjamin and Queen Katrín.”

  Everyone in the room was on their feet with polite applause filling the air.

  Was she supposed to limp?

  They had emerged onto the dais so there wasn’t far to walk. Since they weren’t eating dinner, they didn’t sit at a table. Instead, two not-un-throne-like chairs were waiting for them. Set at a slight angle, they were only close enough to hold hands. No other physical contact was even possible.

  Benjamin stopped in front of the chairs and stood there for a moment. Finally, he leaned down and spoke quietly. “I am going to dance with my mother.” From the angle, anyone else might think he kissed her cheek.

  She took her seat, watching as he walked to his mother’s side, bowing slightly and extending his hand to her.

  As they danced, Katrín remained perched on the edge of her seat. That wasn’t going to work for the rest of the night. She gathered her dress to the front then tried to scoot back, but doubted it looked as elegant as a queen was supposed to. Once in position, it was better.

  The music ended. Katrín expected Benjamin to return to her side. Instead, he danced with one of his sisters as others joined them on the dance floor.

  A young woman came to stand next to her. Katrín’s chair was close enough to the edge of the dais that when the woman stood on the next step, her head was about the same level as Katrín’s. “Many of those present would like to extend their congratulations. Given your inability to circulate they will come to you. I’ll tell you who is who.”

  That was a weight off Katrín’s shoulders. She’d never remember even the people she was supposed to already know. “Thank you.”

  For the next half hour, people came to see her. They stopped, bowed or curtsied, made one of several congratulatory comments, then moved on.

  “Crown Prince Theodore Kane of Valdoria and his wife, Princess Alexandra Torre, previously of Litiana,” the woman’s voice said softly.

  The striking couple didn’t bow or curtsy. They were the first members of royalty to stop to talk to her.

  Katrín inclined her head in as much of a bow she could muster. “Thank you for coming, Your Royal Highnesses.” How exactly was she supposed to address them?

  “Congratulations, Your Majesty.” Princess Alexandra leaned closer. “Your dress is gorgeous, but I can imagine you’re grateful you don’t have to dance in those heels.”

  Katrín managed a weak smile. “I wish I’d been able to have a first dance with the king this evening, but such is life.” If she was dancing, at least she wouldn’t have this receiving line.

  Alexandra glanced around then lifted the hem of her dress to show sparkly tennis shoes. “If my mother and mother-in-law aren’t around, I can get away with it.” She smiled at Katrín, one of the few truly genuine smiles from this line. “If you ever want to talk, give me a call. I’m sure I can give some pointers on royal life if you need them. When the time comes, a long time from now, I’m sure I’ll welcome talking to someone who’s been a queen consort for a while.”

  The way Prince Theo’s arm slid around Princess Alexandra’s waist and the way she smiled up at him, Katrín suddenly realized they were a couple and not just friends attending together. Somehow, she knew those two would go the distance.

  They moved on, though Katrín kept an eye on them as the night went on. Benjamin continued to dance and circulate. The only other royalty to come through the line was Princess Jacqueline Grace of San Majoria. There hadn’t been much notice after all. Not even a representative of the Auverignonian royal family had made it - unless they just didn’t stop to add their congratulations. She
wondered if Princess Jacqueline Grace or Princess Alexandra, or any of her new in-laws for that matter, noticed that she didn’t wear a tiara.

  Maybe it was another odd Eyjanian tradition...

  “They will cut the cake shortly, ma’am,” the young woman told her as the line petered out.

  “Could I get some water please?” she asked.

  The woman gasped. “Of course! My apologies for not asking earlier, ma’am. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do to serve you.”

  Words Katrín’s mother had likely said to the king when she was his server. At least King Alfred had never taken advantage of a woman. Never, in the five years Katrín had been in the palace, had she heard whispers of the late king doing those sorts of things. Prince Isaiah? Everyone knew he did. The rumors even said he’d fathered at least one child.

  Which reminded Katrín of what was supposed to happen later. The very thing Benjamin had propositioned her with when they met.

  She accepted a goblet of water from the woman who’d been standing next to her as a chill swept down her arms. “Is it possible to get the cloak I was wearing in the carriage? It’s a little chilly up here.”

  An odd look crossed the woman’s face for a split second. “Of course.”

  Katrín looked around. Some of the lights were focused directly on the dais. She should probably be warmer, but she hadn’t been moving around, dancing, like much of the rest of those gathered.

  A moment later, she hugged the cloak around her. The outside matched her dress, but the inside was dark, nearly black.

  Benjamin came to stand in front of her and held out his hand. “I believe it is time to cut the cake.”

  She slid her hand into his and let him help her down the stairs. At least while she’d been seated her feet weren’t subjected to quite as much torture.

  It took all of her willpower to force a smile to her face. That wouldn’t leave much willpower left.

  Not when all she really wanted to do was smash frosting into the blasted beard.

  7

  Who created the ridiculous custom of feeding each other cake? Benjamin had fully intended to return to the dais and sit next to Katrín, but his sister commandeered a dance, followed by one woman after another.

  Now he had to pretend to smile, eat one of his least favorite flavors of cake, and probably give her a kiss for the crowd.

  He’d been watching the married couples in the crowd for how they acted, especially those who came in close contact with royal families regularly, but there weren’t many. Most were unable to attend. Robert and Lizbeth Padovano were the representatives from Mevendia. They reminded him of his parents. Theodore and Alexandra of Valdoria were the same, but even more laid back.

  Benjamin didn’t do laid back.

  Even as a child, he was more serious than his siblings, or so he’d been told.

  The photographer gave them directions on where and how to stand, how to hold the knife - a replica of King Alfred the First’s Wulfrith dagger - and then talked them through the actual process. He noticed she’d removed the cloak she’d worn in the carriage.

  “Queen Katrín, you go first. Feed a bite to the king.”

  Katrín looked up at him, her dark eyes wary. She picked up a piece of the cake with one hand and cupped her other underneath it to catch the crumbs.

  The lemon cake didn’t taste as bad as he expected, but he still swallowed it as quickly as possible.

  “Your Majesty.” The photographer clearly meant for him to give Katrín a bite.

  Carefully, Benjamin followed the instruction.

  “Now, pull her close and give her a kiss. Hold it until I tell you to stop.”

  Katrín’s eyes closed, but he imagined everyone else thought it romantic. He guessed she just wanted to get this over with, like he did.

  But he had to put on a good show. And so he slipped his arm around her waist then leaned down, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to hers until the photographer told him he had the picture.

  Her lips clung briefly to his before he moved away.

  They returned to the dais where a small table had been set in front of their chairs. The first two slices of cake were on plates. Benjamin breathed a sigh of relief when his appeared to be plain white cake rather than the lemon of the first bite.

  “Now the champagne toast.” The photographer directed them to sort of link their arms then sip from their own glasses while looking deep into each other’s eyes.

  In Katrín’s, he saw not only wariness but weariness.

  Then the photographer finished. Benjamin turned back to the cake. “You need to eat the whole piece,” Benjamin told her quietly.

  “What if I hate it?”

  “Doesn’t matter. If you don’t, it will be reported and significantly hurt the reputation of the baker.”

  “I see.” She took a bite. “Fortunately, it’s delicious.”

  “Of course it is. The pastry chef made it.”

  “I’ve met him a couple of times. He’s very kind.”

  Benjamin had never noticed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met the man.

  After he finished his cake, the photographer staged a first dance picture.

  Chamberlain nodded at him.

  Benjamin offered Katrín his arm. Just another moment or two, and they’d be done with this farce. She picked the cloak up off the chair and tried to put it on, but couldn’t quite get it right. He took it from her, draped it over his other arm, then extended his elbow again.

  She slid her hand inside and that same jolt he’d felt several times shot through him.

  “You can put it on in a minute where no one will see you struggle with it.”

  “I see.”

  They went back out the same door and down the wide hallway until they turned a couple of corners. There, they would be out of sight of the guests. He dropped his arm and handed her the cloak as Thor emerged from a side door.

  Benjamin started for a staircase at the other end of the hall. A few things had come to mind over the course of the evening, and he needed to make some notes while they were fresh in his memory.

  After trotting up the stairs and into his office, he sat behind the desk to jot them down. Several minutes passed before he realized he wasn’t alone.

  He looked up to see Katrín standing there, her cloak still in her arms. “What?”

  “Just figured everyone would think I was spending my wedding night with my husband, so I went where you did. I didn’t expect it to be your office, though this is where you told me to meet you that first night.”

  “I needed to write some things down.” Like a thought about how to make Darius’s marriage legal. He suspected his brother had remarried Princess Esther of San Majoria again already, though Darius had never said so during their weekly phone calls. Keeping Benjamin in the dark meant Darius wouldn’t be exiled. The whole thing had been a disaster.

  Benjamin knew it was his own fault for letting Isaiah influence him, but fixing it was proving difficult.

  “Am I on my own tonight?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll be sleeping alone?” she clarified. “In my quarters.”

  Why was it so hard for her to understand? “Yes.” He looked back up at her. “You made it quite clear what your indenture did and did not include.”

  “Well, at the time, my indenture also didn’t include marrying you.” She shrugged. “How am I supposed to know what’s changed?”

  “Do you need me to dismiss you?” He waved the hand holding his pen toward her. “You’re dismissed.”

  Katrín dropped into a deep curtsy until he could only see the top of her head. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You are too kind.”

  Her biting sarcasm made him want to engage in a war of words with her, for fun, but not tonight. It had been a long day. He didn’t have the energy.

  His only response was to tell her good night and return to his notes.

  When he looked up again, she was gone.

&n
bsp; Outside Benjamin’s office, Katrín took stock of her situation.

  Married.

  Kicked out of her new husband’s office.

  Not entirely certain how to get to her quarters.

  And wearing a wedding dress. Not exactly incognito.

  What exactly was a girl to do?

  With a sigh, she shook out the cloak. Could she wear it inside out? The dark wouldn’t draw as much attention as the bright white, would it?

  Once she got it situated, she flipped it around her shoulders only to have it catch on the veil she still wore.

  Looking around the outer office, Katrín found a mirror and used it to guide her as she took out the clips holding the filmy material in place. She laid it on the chair at her side. At least she didn’t have to worry about a tiara.

  With the cloak in place, dark side out, she seemed a little less conspicuous. Could she pull the hood up? Or did that make her look like a hooligan?

  She left it down and started for the staircase. If she wandered around long enough, she’d either find her way downstairs or, more likely, have security come across her and escort her down.

  By the time she reached the bottom of the giant staircase leading up to the executive offices, Katrín knew she needed to take her shoes off if she wanted to survive. She worked on her feet, all day every day, but these heels were too much.

  Leaning against a wall that had to be nearly a thousand years old, she managed to take both of them off and let them dangle from her fingers as she decided which way to turn. With her eyes closed, she tried to picture the palace layout.

  Right. She needed to go right. If not, she could figure it out once she got to the first basement.

  As Katrín approached the next intersection of hallways, she heard voices. Frantically, she glanced around until she found a recessed doorway she could hide in.

  “That’s done.” Was that the Queen Mother?

  “She seems nice.” One of the twin sisters, though Katrín wasn’t sure which, said the right words, but her tone held doubt.

  “I’m sure she’s lovely, or she wouldn’t have married Benjamin.”