The Heiress Queen (Season Series Prequel)

Chapter 4

Isabelle's growling stomach woke her the next morning. She stared at the canopy above the bed for a few seconds before she remembered with a groan where she was. Rain pattered against the window, the clouds obscuring all signs of sunrise such that the clock set into the mantelpiece was the only indication of the early hour. The fire had died down to embers and Isabelle shivered as she sat up, wishing more than ever that she was back in her cozy room in Kentshire instead of the draughty Highcastle palace.

Braving the chill of the floor on her feet, she took the quilt with her, wrapping it around her shoulders for warmth as she crossed to the window. The cold seeped in from the panes, the weather abnormally chilly for late autumn. In the watery grey light of dawn, the garden outside was a soggy, dismal mess. With a yawn, Isabelle checked the clock once again, hoping that it wasn't too early to ring for Lissa.

The queen had specifically instructed her to meet before breakfast and, if her tone had been any indication, it was not going to be a pleasant meeting. Isabelle knew her temper would only get sharper as her hunger mounted, so she'd have to convince Lissa to sneak something from the kitchens beforehand.

As if on cue, Isabelle's stomach grumbled again. As she stared out into the rain that Kentshire had so badly needed all summer, she thought of all the villagers she'd passed on her way here and their too-empty graineries. So far, she'd done her duty to them, arriving in Highcastle as the king had asked, but she had no idea how much more the royal family expected from her. Up until now, she'd assumed that her mere presence would be enough, but baiting the queen last night had been a terrible idea.

Shivering again, Isabelle couldn't shake the terrible loneliness that settled over her, as heavy as the quilt around her shoulders. She had few friends in this palace, fewer still among the royal family. Now that she was here and her father was on the road back to Kentshire, she was at their mercy. By heeding his summons, the Duke of Kentshire had proven to the king just how powerful the threat of taxation was. If the king was as brutal a man as Isabelle suspected, there was nothing stopping him from using that threat against her again.

Toying with her engagement ring, Isabelle rang for Lissa before lighting a candle at the escritoire tucked into the corner. Trimming her quill, she forced her thoughts away from the cold, strange palace that imprisoned her and focused on her betrothed.

Dearest Leo,

I hope your crossing went smoothly and that Ardalone is much warmer than here. Highcastle is as frigid a palace as I've ever visited thanks to both its draughts and its inhabitants, though I'm sure that comes as no surprise to you. You should have warned me about the queen and her penchant for perfumes and rouge. I hadn't expected to be curtseying before a painted lady with such a poor sense of humour.

Isabelle's quill stopped as she chewed her lip. While Leopold would surely have enjoyed hearing her opinion of the queen, Isabelle realized that she had no idea whether any prying eyes would censor her letter before it was sent. Since she was already about to be scolded before breakfast, it wasn't wise to potentially irk the queen ever further if the contents of her letter were exposed. Crumpling the paper, she tossed it into the fire as she settled back to brood.

The snick of the service door jarred her from her thoughts as Lissa backed in, stifling a yawn as she set down a tray on the corner table.

"Good morning, my lady," she said, curtseying before fixing Isabelle with a frown, "My goodness, it's colder than the winter solstice in here!"

"It's this infernal palace," Isabelle said, rising to inspect the tray. The aroma of freshly baked bread had already filled the room, setting Isabelle to salivating.

"Infernal indeed. I'll bank the fire more tonight, my lady, my apologies," Lissa said, poking around so the dying embers would light the log she had added.