Page 78 of Scandal Queen

“Madam President,” I dropped a polite but small curtsey, forcing the woman who didn’t know what to make of me to respond in the same manner in return.

The Queen gave me a small nod of the head and a secret smile.

“Have you enjoyed your trip so far?” I turned to the president’s wife with my conversation, taking control and breathing through my nerves. I might be a sweating mess on the inside, but there was no reason for anyone to see. That, after all, was what being a royal was all about.

We’d been summoned to the state banquet hall through a set of doors, when I spotted Isabella. Not so much spotted, but rather heard her as she bumped into the table and knocked over a glass which in turn landed on the silver cutlery.

I glanced over my shoulder, but Oliver was in talks with the Prime Minister, hopefully asking him how the bastard had the gall to cut the benefits of those in poverty. The King and Queen were up front leading the party into the room—as tradition dictated.

I stepped to the side, keeping my actions discreet and caught Isabella by the arm. We’d only been together this very morning; there was no chance she could be sick. Unless she had a migraine or something?

“Hey, you okay?” She pulled against my hold, not because she tried to get away from me, but because she didn’t have a shred of balance.

My skin chilled. I knew this hold. Remembered it all too well.

“Bella?” I peered at her closer while also trying not to make a scene. Her skin leached a pale ivory, her eyes wide, her pupils so dilated her green eyes were almost black. “Oh crap.”

“That’s a very pretty ring you’ve got on there.” She spoke louder and I grimaced as I noticed my ring had spun back around. “That’s not one of Granny Alice’s.”

People were taking their seats. Well, standing by them waiting for the King to sit first. My skin prickled along the back of my neck.

She swayed again and I didn’t think I’d be able to hold her.

“Come with me and I’ll tell you all about it,” I whispered into her ear.

“We can’t leave; not until the King gives his permission. Stupid isn’t it? We could wet our knickers and we’d still have to stand here.”

Oh, good Lord.

I glanced at the table. Most eyes were focused on the King, but the King’s eyes were on me. I stared at him, willing him with my eyes to not believe it was me making the scene; I wouldn’t have put it past him. Oliver, who stood to the right of the King watched me, alarm etched across his features.

The King nodded simply and then turned and smiled at the rest of the room. As he rose his hands to allow people to sit, and the general hubbub of small conversations started, I pulled on Isabella’s arm with as much force as I could lever without making her cry out.

The wild, almost feral depth to her eyes told me her decorum switch wouldn’t even exist, let alone be flipped.

“Hey, come on, little sis.”

The pale blonde hair of John brushed over my shoulder as he leant in close to Isabella and between the two of us we managed to get her out of the state room. The King’s voice had risen as he seemed to make an impromptu speech.

“Bloody hell, Bella.” John took most of her weight and I tried not to cringe away from his accidental touch across my skin as he helped to keep her upright.

We walked her to a side room off the corridor and once in there managed to get her onto a sofa. “You guys are so funny. I don’t want to lie down. I want to dance. When will the dancing start?” Her eyes rolled back in her head.

“I don’t understand this.” I wiped at the back of my neck, ignoring the sticky residue left on my hands. “I was with her all morning. What’s happened?”

John frowned. “She probably got this from your work.”

I stared at him open mouthed before snapping my lips back together. “I work at a rehabilitation centre, not a bloody crack house.”

His lips curved and I wanted to punch him right on the nose.

“It’s not crack.” He shook his head, amusement lingering in his expression, not that I could find anything funny at all. “It’s probably a pill knowing Bella. She’ll sleep it off.”

I couldn’t school my expression. “What do you mean, only a pill? There is no ‘only’ in this situation.”

“Yes, yes, don’t get over excited. She’ll be in trouble with the oldies tomorrow and will be a good girl for a couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks.” His words were utterly off the planet of sanity. “Where is she getting these pills? It can’t be outside the palace. Someone would have sold the story.” I eyed him speculatively. This wasn’t true was it? He had a pretty spectacular story about himself safely tucked away.