Married by Scandal by Tessonja Odette

Author:Tessonja Odette [Odette, Tessonja]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crystal Moon Press
Published: 2022-09-22T16:00:00+00:00

Our introduction to the queen goes far more smoothly than I anticipated. She’s civil, if not a little terse, and seems rather fascinated with the false Prince Albert. Considering Albert is the son of the man who once attempted to annihilate the isle and every living creature on it, I’m surprised by her interest. She asks him about automobiles, food, and the latest fashions in Bretton. It reminds me that there have always been fae who find humankind intriguing. It’s why fae learned to shift into seelie form in the first place, eager to resemble their source of fascination.

Once Ilma is satisfied with news from Bretton, she turns her attention to me.

“Miss Amelie Fairfield,” she says, her voice light and airy. Appropriate for the Seelie Queen of the Wind Court. “Queen Evelyn is your sister, correct?”

“Yes, she is,” I say, trying my best to act proud of the fact rather than irked at not being known foremost by my career. But this is good, isn’t it? She might not have agreed to meet me if not for my royal relation to Evie.

“Your sister is quite famous,” she says. “The queen who started and ended a war.”

“Yes, that’s her,” I say, grateful that my involvement in said war is lesser known. If she was aware that my lust for my sister’s fiancé was used to pave the path toward political upheaval, she’d be undoubtedly less warm to me now.

“But you’re somewhat renowned yourself, aren’t you Miss Fairfield?”

My heart leaps into my throat. Was I wrong? Does she know the truth? Evie has always done her best to protect me and hide the more painful details of my past, but…oh no. What if she means my recent scandal?

“I always considered your fashions too fae for my tastes,” the queen says.

“My fashions,” I echo. Relief washes over me.

“I prefer human designs.” She gestures at her immaculate gown. “Especially ones modeled after history. You should do more of that.”

I’m so stunned that she’s talking about my work—not the war, not the scandal—that I almost can’t summon my reply. Finally, I manage, “That’s a lovely idea, Your Majesty.”

She lifts her chin and assesses my ensemble. “Are you wearing one of your own designs now?”

“I am.”

“Hmm.”

I can’t tell whether she made the sound out of approval or distaste, so I say nothing.

“As you can see,” Dante says, “my fiancée does a wonderful job at designing after human sensibilities as well. This dress she wears now would have my mother emptying the royal coffers at once. But not before locking Miss Fairfield into an exclusive contract as her royal dressmaker.”

Queen Ilma’s eyes go wide, and she assesses my dress with renewed fascination. “You truly think Queen Mary would covet such a gown?”

“I do. Were my fiancée in Bretton, she’d be the wealthiest fashion designer around.” He releases an exaggerated sigh and casts an adoring gaze upon me. “If only those in Faerwyvae would catch up with Brettonish style and see what a prize my darling Amelie is.”

Ilma flutters an apologetic hand at my companion.

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