They were being sent into exile. That’s if she didn’t end up in the dungeon for murdering her idiot babbler of a husband before they were delivered to wherever it was they were being sent.
To never walk the rooms of this house again, to never visit the shops along the Queen’s Boulevard, to never laugh about the latest love scandals with her friends over tea. Not that she had any of those left. Every so-called friend had vanished into thin air when Edward’s indiscretions had come to light.
Thank all the goddesses the Emperor had reached the same conclusion she had, that Edward wasn’t a deliberate traitor, he was simply a garrulous twit, who should never have been included in state council discussions. He had no more idea of what to share, what to hold close, or how to lie than Helen had as a chatty, too-trusting three-year-old.
Thankfully, Helen, now sixteen, had considerably more social awareness than her father. Her poor daughter, she’d be distraught at leaving her friends and home behind.
Deborah rose from her desk and made for the library, Helen’s usual haunt at this time of day.
And there she was, dressed in a pretty gown of summer blue. If only she’d been able to wear it to the princess’s picnic next week, she would have captured hearts a-plenty, and had her pick of noble suitors. But, no, they weren’t going to the picnic, they were going to some goddess-forsaken place she’d barely heard of.
Helen looked up from the book she was poring over, her smile a disconcerting, but always lovely, surprise.
“Oh Mama, we’re going to have such fun!”
“What?”
“I’ve always dreamed of visiting the Scattered Isles, and we’re being sent to the very best city in all of it.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Oh no, not at all. Everyone here’s so stuffy and set in their ways. We’re going to travel, and Rosamund says Port Watch is where all the best fabrics and fashions can be found. She’s ever so jealous. She says she’s going to wait a couple of years for the scandal to die down, then come and stay with us for a while.”
The princess was planning to visit? They were going somewhere a princess wanted to visit? Well, this put a different complexion on things. Maybe she wouldn’t stab Bernard with a dessert fork after all.
She joined her daughter at the reading table. “I clearly need to find out more about this Port Watch. We should make a list.”
The DNA of Stories 