Mina almost laughed. He made it sound as if it was her fault. The only reason she held back a snort was the fear that she would deteriorate into mad cackling if she let it out.
Cyranese custom held that the Queen hosted an annual ball, inviting the entire aristocracy of the island, as well as Members of Parliament, representatives from media outlets, and other illustrious members of society to attend. The tradition had begun a century before—one savvy queen’s method of diverting angry lords from violence—but had not taken place in the two years since King Alden’s death. The first year the widowed Queen had been too deep in mourning. The second year Zayn had been crowned and the country no longer had a queen.
Traditionally, the ball took place on Queen’s Day—two weeks away.
Mina had never planned a party in her life.
Again, the unbelievability of this narrative struck Mina.
A person didn’t go from being ordinary one moment to being Queen the next. The Archbishop had conducted the ceremony, but there had been no judge present, no license signed. Surely even the King needed a license and a judge for a marriage to be legal?
But the King had moved on.
“Your guards will be...” he scanned the row of guards “...Moustafa and d’Tierrza.”
Two blue-clad figures stepped forward. Both were women. One wore her long brown hair pulled back into a braid nearly as tight and controlled as Mina’s. The other sported a swoopy silver-blond pixie cut.
The blonde guard’s voice was a low rasp, infused with humor, as she executed a bow and came up saying, “Your Royal Majesty...”
Without missing a beat, the other woman followed, and Mina found herself nodding to them with a genuine smile on her face, amused and slightly grateful at their military manner. It reminded her of her father.
Her father who had secretly arranged her marriage.
Mina pushed the thought away. She wasn’t ready to untangle that knot quite yet.
Instead, she focused on the women in front of her.
The blonde woman’s name was revealing. The d’Tierrzas were one of the oldest aristocratic families on the island. The family was currently headed by a daughter, the mother scandalously passed over in the father’s will, who was infamous for her scandalous appointment to the Royal Guard.
And now she was Mina’s guard.
“There are several other matters we need to discuss...” the King’s voice cut into Mina’s thoughts “...but that will have to wait. I have an appointment. Your guards will escort you to your rooms.”
He spoke as if he were working through a to-do list, rather than parting from his new bride. He was so casual about it all that Mina wondered if he had always expected his marriage to be like this—sudden, rushed, and painful.
For once, however, he seemed to be unaware of her train of thought, continuing with, “Meet me in my office tomorrow at eight a.m. We will go over the rest.”
Then he was leaving, with the rest of the guards pouring out after him.
Now she was alone with her new guards the small chapel felt colder, the emptiness of the space more profound for its lack of the King.
Her husband.
Mina shivered.
“Your Majesty?” Moustafa asked.
It took Mina a moment to realize the woman was addressing her. When she did, she grimaced. “Please, call me Mina.”
The woman nodded. “Mina. Would you like us to escort you to your rooms?”
“If by that you mean my apartment in the city, that would be wonderful. Can you do that?” Despite everything, she couldn’t keep the wistful thread of hope out of her voice.
D’Tierrza laughed out loud. “You certainly deserve it. But we can’t—at least not until we’ve swept and secured the premises.” She added the last with a wink.
Mina felt an answering smile grow on her own face as she took a closer look at the other woman. D’Tierrza’s rich alto voice and confident demeanor, coupled with her creamy skin and line-free face, as well as the startling clarity of her sapphire-blue eyes, were completely at odds with the danger coiled in her frame. The woman was beautiful—but Mina got the distinct impression that that fact didn’t matter to her in the least.
Moustafa had her own stern beauty, with her dark coloring and angular bone structure. Her face was all high cheekbones and slashing brows, and it suited her perfectly. Her surname was common, and she lacked the insouciant ease the island’s aristocracy seemed born with. Both facts confirmed the impression that she had made it to the palace the same way Mina had: through hard work and a fierce refusal to give up.