A Warning

“Wakey, wakey!” You open your eyes to the grinning face of Dame Olivander Shetland.

“What time is it?” you groan, shielding your eyes from the sunlight pouring in through the room’s single window.

“Not quite time for sleep, I’m afraid…” She pauses, her grin widening. “Or do you prefer to be called Lord Caldersmith now?”

“How did you know?” you ask, squinting at her.

“Cassandra filled us in on what transpired between you and Lady Victoria. Bravo, by the way.” She cocks her head, her tone teasing but not unkind. “You may not be the first man elevated to nobility by what he keeps in his trousers, but from what I hear, the way you achieved it was one for the history books.”

You sigh, climbing out of bed and stretching the stiffness from your limbs.

“Tell me,” she presses, leaning against the bedpost with a mischievous glint in her eye, “did Lord Caldersmith truly cry while you claimed his sister’s innocence?”

You ignore her and move to wash your face, the cool water doing little to dispel the lingering fog of sleep.

“Are you staying here until the ball?” you ask, pointedly changing the subject.

Ollie’s expression shifts, and she lowers her voice, her usual levity replaced by a rare seriousness.

“No,” she says. “I have other matters to attend to before tonight’s festivities, but…” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “Viola is like a sister to me. She can be temperamental, but I believe she’ll make a fine queen one day.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Though she’s known you barely a week, the princess is clearly taken with you.” She sighs and drops into an ornate chair, her fingers drumming against the armrest. “Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, but while she sees most men as something to be used and discarded, she looks at you as someone who could be her equal—a partner, not a pawn like her father.”

Ollie studies you, her tone growing grave. “Viola intends to announce her desire to pursue you for marriage at tonight’s ball. Now that you’ve been adopted by House Caldersmith, the Queen won’t oppose it, but I have reason to believe her sister, Anora, may try to interfere.”

“Would the Queen allow that?”

“She’d have little choice. Tradition grants the eldest sister the right to deny any union should she see fit. It’s an old, rarely used law, but I believe Anora will invoke it.”

“Is there any way to stop her?”

“Only one,” Ollie says softly. “The man in question must challenge her to a contest to prove his worth. If he wins, the challenge is voided, and the union may proceed.”

“And if he loses?”

“If Anora is victorious, you become her property, to do with as she pleases.”

You exhale sharply, the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders.

“My advice?” Ollie gives you a tight smile, though her eyes remain serious. “Don’t lose.”

“What can you tell me about the contest?”

“Each challenge varies, with the specific rules set by the girls’ mother, which in this case, is the Queen.” She hesitates, her gaze flickering to the door as if ensuring no one is listening. “Often, the mere prospect of a challenge is enough to dissuade most men, as few have the strength to stand against a woman in a physical contest, but…”

“But what?” Her ominous tone sends a shiver down your spine.

“Backing out would fall to Viola, and there’s no chance she’ll let her sister decide her future.”

“Lady Olivander,” a voice calls from beyond the door. “The Princess has need of you at once.”

“I must go.” Ollie heads for the door, turning back with a final, grave look. “Be careful tonight. For the good of the queendom… don’t lose.”

With that, the tall redhead departs, leaving you with a knot in your stomach as you prepare for the ball.