The Heiress Queen (Season Series Prequel)

Chapter 28

The next day, there was no carriage from Kentshire and the letter Isabelle had received from her father had clearly been penned prior to Leopold's arrival. It had been filled with nothing but the mundane every day updates about Kentshire and the castle, which did nothing to calm Isabelle.

Isabelle's rest had been fitful, but at least she'd been able to sleep. She'd awoken in the dead of night, choking out a scream as she sat up in bed, Leopold's angry face still looming before her in the darkened bedchamber. Her dreams had been naught but nightmarish repeats of Leopold slamming her against the wall, only this time his hand had closed around her throat rather than hitting the wall. She'd reassured herself that it wasn't real, but she'd had trouble falling back asleep after that.

It was the promise of a letter from her father that had drawn her out of bed in the morning, though she'd refused to rise and dress for the debutantes' breakfast with the queen. When there had been no news about her betrothed, the same fatigue from the night had settled over her.

If her father's plan had been to await the signing of the new law, he would send Leopold back to Germania, hopefully smoothing over her betrothed's temper. But Leo was smart and Isabelle realized that she'd made a huge mistake mentioning the law to him. She should have allowed her father to handle it, rather than give the foreign prince any clue as to why she was now hesitating as well. Her father had known about the law for a very long time, but he'd always found some other excuse for his hesitation. Now Leopold would fit the pieces of the puzzle together...

Isabelle buried her face in her hands, Lissa pausing as she brushed her mistress' hair.

"Are you all right?" the maid asked, resting a gentle hand on Isabelle's shoulder.

"No," Isabelle admitted. "I'm a fool. A stupid little pawn who thought she had a feel for the game, only to find out that I've never been more wrong."

Lissa said nothing, her brows creased with concern as she looked at Isabelle in the mirror. Isabelle's stomach turned at the purple welt on Lissa's cheekbone.

"I don't know whether we should pack my things and prepare to leave so I can help, or whether I should await word from Papa," Isabelle said. "Oh Lissa, what have I done?"

"He had no business marching in her and scaring you like that, let alone tricking me into thinking it was under His Grace the duke's orders," Lissa said, giving Isabelle's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You did the right thing by sending him to your father. I'm sure they will straighten things out. Until then, you'll have to keep up your brave face."

Isabelle looked at herself in the mirror, blinking away the frustrated tears that had pooled in her eyes. Lissa was right. She'd done enough wallowing and she was stronger than this. Her father would fix things, as he always did, and so she'd bide her time and wait for his summons. She'd already missed two meals with the royal family, which, coupled with the vicious rumours Alicia had likely spread at dinner, had probably already set tongues to wagging. Whatever was happening in Kentshire was beyond Isabelle's control, but she certainly could control what the court gossips were saying about her in Highcastle.

"You're right," Isabelle said, resting a hand atop Lissa's. "Thank you for helping me clear my head."

"Always, my lady," Lissa said, smiling. "Shall we get you dressed?"

"In my best, yes," Isabelle agreed.

She suffered through the day in the queen's reading room, the rest of the debutantes whispering furiously whenever she approached. When she thought she couldn't stand it any longer, she dealt herself a game of patience, focusing all of her attention on the cards rather than the whispered mentions of Kentshire, Germania, and Prince Leopold that surrounded her.