Princess of Glass - Jessica Day George [65]
Christian shook his head again, feeling the fog come back. Lady Ella? He knew nothing about her! His parents would have to meet her, and he wouldn’t invite a girl to travel all the way to his home before he had met her parents … or guardian, in Lady Ella’s case. She had never said, but he got the impression that she was an orphan. There was a mysterious godmother that she made reference to. And those references were mysterious indeed. Even King Rupert, with his determination to see Christian married to a Bretoner lady, could find out nothing about Lady Ella.
“For all we know, she’s a pirate or a laundress who has stolen someone else’s gowns,” Christian muttered aloud.
Instantly another zing of lightning coursed through him, this one powerful enough to make him cry out. The throbbing in his head became a blinding pain that settled behind his right eye and sent him reeling to his bed. He flung himself across the mattress, clutching at his head with one hand. The bracelet Poppy had given him itched so fiercely now that it felt like his wrist was on fire. One of these pains had to go away, or he would end up barking mad!
He started to rip the bracelet off, but stopped himself just in time. Through the green sparkles that kept sending him visions of Lady Ella dancing in her glowing slippers, he saw glimmers of Poppy in her red and white gown from the gala.
Poppy, with her regal bearing and flashing eyes. Poppy gambling like a hardened cardsharp and teasing Roger Thwaite about his stern demeanor. Poppy in lavender, with her knitting needles flashing and the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth—a habit she denied.
She had put this bracelet on him for a reason.
He took his hand away from his head, and forced himself to breathe deeply in and out. He clutched at the bracelet, not to tear it away, but to press the wool even tighter against his skin. He raised his shaking hands and rubbed the itchy band against his forehead, against his eyelids.
The green sparkles fled and the pain subsided.
Still holding his wrist to his forehead, Christian got to his feet. He needed to see Poppy right away; it seemed that the bracelet she had made for him had some sort of power. But why? To prevent headaches? Or was it a love charm, to entice him?
He snorted at the very idea. Poppy wouldn’t try to ensnare him with some love charm!
Scrubbing his forehead with the rough wool bracelet, he lurched for the bedroom door. He had to get to Seadown House; from there he could send for Roger as well. Roger knew things; Roger would help.
He fumbled the door open and nearly bowled over a small man with ridiculously curled hair and an elaborate green waistcoat that made Christian’s eyes sting. It reminded him of the green sparkles, and he had to look away quickly before they returned.
“Your Highness!” The man bowed with much flourishing of lace cuffs.
“Who are you?”
“Monsieur Flamonde,” the little man said. “The tailor!” More flourishing. “Your Highness’s costume is ready to be fitted!”
“Costume?” Christian sagged weakly against the doorframe.
King Rupert came stumping along the passageway. “Flamonde, you must do our guest right!” He slapped the small man on the back, nearly pitching the tailor into Christian’s arms. “There may be an announcement after the unmasking, and Prince Christian will want to look his best!” King Rupert winked and chortled through his mustache, and Christian felt even more ill.
“An announcement! Will there be wedding clothes ordered soon?” The tailor rose up on his toes in excitement, which did not add much to his height. In fact, he was already wearing shoes with heels almost too high to be masculine, and still barely came to Christian’s chin.
“Very soon,” King Rupert said.
“I’m going to ask Lady Ella,” Christian said, hearing his voice as if from a great distance, “Lady Ella to—to marr—”
His head throbbed, the sparkles returned, the wool band itched, and Christian reeled back into his bedroom. He barely grabbed the chamber pot in time, retching