Silver Crown by Julie Johnson

Author:Julie Johnson [Johnson, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Julie Johnson

Later that night, I’m lying in bed attempting to get through one of the dense books Linus sent up for me — a heavy, leather-bound tome called Germania: Honor Throughout History — when someone knocks on my door.

“Come in,” I call lazily, expecting one of the housekeepers — here to stoke the fire or fluff my pillows or deliver yet another plate of warm chocolate-chip cookies, as they have every night since my failed baking endeavor. At first, I thought it was a nice gesture, but now I’m pretty sure it’s just Patricia’s insurance policy, keeping me out of her kitchen by any means necessary.

The door swings inward on soundless hinges. I glance up from the pages and nearly have a heart attack when I see the woman standing there, her perfectly coiffed auburn hair offset by teardrop earrings, an elegant gray dress, and sensible heels.

“Octavia!” I sit up so abruptly, the book tumbles from my grasp. It hits the floor with a dull thud. “Wh— what are you doing here?”

Her eyes narrow as they take me in. Lavender hair in a messy bun on top of my head, makeup smudged beneath my eyes, dressed in a loose t-shirt and a pair of buttery soft yoga pants. I scramble off the bed, nervously tucking a rogue tendril of hair behind one ear. It takes all my resolve not to flinch as she sidles closer, her heels clicking ominously against the hardwood floor.

“I see you are…” She sniffs delicately. “Settling in.”

“Yes, Octavia. I mean ma’am. Madame. Err… Highness?” I fumble horribly. Lady Morrell would be devastated to learn all her careful lessons have gone to utter waste.

“I have not yet been given a royal title.” Octavia’s expression is totally devoid of warmth. “When I am officially named queen consort after Linus’ coronation next month, you can refer to me as Your Majesty. Until then…” Her eyes narrow to pinpricks. “Frankly, I’m not sure you’ll need to address me at all, but if you cannot avoid doing so during a social engagement, you may call me Lady Lancaster or Duchess of Hightower.”

God, she’s so cold. I don’t know what I did to get on her bad side so quickly — besides, you know, exist — but I find myself shivering despite the warmth from the fire.

She looks around at my belongings, scattered over every surface. The half-eaten plate of cookies, the sweater I wore earlier crumpled on the armchair, a hefty pile of Linus’ books on my side table. She traces her finger across the embossed cover of the volume at the top of the stack, a flicker of disgust moving across her face as she digests the title.

Kings and Queens: The Lancaster Legacy

“I assume there’s a reason for this unexpected visit,” I say, voice dripping with false sweetness.

“Certainly.” She turns back toward me, folding her arms across her chest. “Linus has informed me that you’ll be attending the funeral alongside our family.”

I think she’d sound more pleased by the prospect of an impending colonoscopy.

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