Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss Read Free

at her, and Bianca wanted to scream. She had no
doubt he’d taken part in Alice’s beating. For that matter, he had probably been
there when Brannon had beaten Isabelle. She felt sick, forced to stand and
listen to this vile, despicable man.
    He dropped his
voice even lower. “Do tell Isabelle that I hope she holds out for a while. I’m
having such fun with young Alice. You won’t forget to pass that along, will
you, Nieve?”
    Bianca felt
anger boiling up inside her. Anger at this loathsome man, anger at her father’s
evil, and anger at herself for her weak, powerless position. The anger consumed
her, and for once she spoke without thinking, her voice carrying clearly in the
almost empty throne room.
    “My name is
Bianca.”
    She heard
the words leave her mouth, and she couldn’t believe she’d uttered them. Her
anger turned to horror and she froze, wishing she could take it back, but
knowing she’d been heard. Sir Miles and the few remaining nobles stared, and
the king slowly swiveled his head in her direction.
    “What was
that, daughter?”
    She didn’t
look directly at him. She was afraid she’d cry. But from the corner of her eye,
she saw him rise and stalk down the stairs. He stopped in front of her, and
though he didn’t touch her, menace radiated from him. She had just uttered her
only defiance right on the heels of his moment of triumph, and he was going to
make her regret it.
    “Nieve, what
did you say?”
    “Your
majesty,” she whispered, barely able to force out the words, “I only meant—”
    “You meant
that you don’t care for the name I’ve given you.” He said it lightly, almost
teasingly. “You prefer that vulgar, plebeian name your mother gave you when you
were born.”
    “It is all I
have left of her, your majesty. All I have to remember her by.” She spoke
softly, but still, everyone heard. The remaining court was eavesdropping with
fearful fascination.
    “But, Nieve,”
replied Brannon, false kindness dripping from every word, “your mother was a
whore. Why would you want to remember your whore of a mother?”
    Dead silence
reigned. Bianca felt tears standing in her eyes and tried to hold them back.
The king waited, anticipation lighting his face. He wanted to see her cry,
wanted to enjoy the tears she shed for the mother she’d lost.
    “Your
majesty?” The tense moment was broken by an elderly courtier. He had been a
member of the peerage since Bianca’s grandfather, Andras Lodney, ruled Toldas.
Under King Lodney he had been an influential figure at court, but Brannon didn’t
care for the same honest discourse that Lodney had treasured. Marquise Barclay,
and others like him, had lost much of their standing, but they were too well
placed to be forced out altogether. Still, there was little they could do to
influence Brannon’s rule of the realm. The marquise tried to choose little
moments when he could make a difference.
    Apparently
he thought this was one of those moments.
    “Your
majesty,” Barclay repeated, “may I have the pleasure of escorting your daughter
to her quarters? I wish to ask her advice on my granddaughter’s upcoming
season.” He gazed guilelessly at the king, for all the world as if he had not
just come to Bianca’s rescue.
    Brannon’s
eyes narrowed, and his face flushed red. He opened his mouth and then snapped
it shut again, glaring at the realm’s peers. Bianca knew that the presence of
such witnesses was all that kept him from lashing out at the old man. Once, Brannon
would have covered his rage with a glib tongue and smooth diversion, but his
self-control was slipping. He didn’t hit the marquise, but he leveled a look of
such malice at the man that Barclay retreated a step, anyway.
    “You may do
whatever you wish with my daughter.” Brannon’s voice was a whipcrack, and
Bianca flinched. “After I am done speaking with her. In private.” He punctuated
his last words with another glare around the room. “All of you, you are
dismissed.