Let The Games Begin

Chapter 4: Part 2

"Can we talk, Mother?"

Sitting on the couch with a magazine on her lap and a nightcap on the coffee table, my mother glanced up to look at me. Despite the fact that it was after nine in the evening and she wasn't going anywhere, she was still dressed in an evening gown with diamonds hanging around her neck. It was supposed to look ridiculous, but my mother could wear a sackcloth dress to a funeral and make it work.

"What is it?" she wanted to know, already sounding bored. She narrowed her eyes at me, looking me over. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to see Alistair. I thought you should know," I told her, as calmly as I possibly could. I sounded polite, docile, sugary sweet−everything she wanted me to be−and still, her face contorted with fury.

She placed the magazine on the table and rose to her feet. "Absolutely not."

"I'm sorry, but I need to see him."

"You are not seeing that farmhand, Helena!"

"He's going to join the army, Mother," I informed her, unable to contain the pride I felt. "Very soon, he won't just be the man you depend on to groom and feed your horses. Very soon, he'll have made something of himself. I couldn't be any prouder."

My mother let out a haughty laugh. "Is that so?"

I yanked my eyes from her and glared at the wall. "I'm going to see him. I can be with Alistair and Simon."

"You don't even have a ring on your finger yet," she hissed. "Honestly, Helena. Can't you wait a few months before you begin this foolishness?"

I shook my head. "I love him. I need to see him."

"Absolutely not," she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. "The king's advisers are scrutinising you, wanting to see if you're truly worthy. Late-night trysts with a foolish, lovesick farmhand will only jeopardise your future."

I turned my evil eye on her. "I've always been discreet."

"Yes−so discreet that you never seem to realise that you always have hay in your hair after being with that boy."