I shook my head. Promises were binding and could not be undone. The last thing I wanted was her in a position where she could save herself and our child through some small admission and finding herself unable to.

Trumpets abruptly blared, and everyone outside the manor dropped into deep bows and curtsies, the King and Queen appearing at the gates. His expression was sour, but Queen Matilde lifted a hand in greeting to her subjects, then smiled brightly at me before turning slightly so Aunt Sylvie could peruse the crowd. My attention was not for them, however, but rather on whether anyone followed behind.

Then Tristan appeared.

His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, expression sullen, yet I couldn’t help but feel relief that at least he’d come.

“Your Majesties!” The Duke had appeared at my elbow out of nowhere, bowing far lower than was necessary as the King and Queen approached. “You humble me with your presence at my home.”

“If humbleness was what you sought, I’d have been happy to arrange for it years ago,” the King said, plucking a flute of sparkling wine from a distant tray and downing the contents. Then he eyed me and Pénélope. “You look lovely, my lady. Red suits you.”

The gown of crimson and gold had been sent over by the Duke. Angoulême colors.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Pénélope responded without missing a beat. “We are honored by your presence.”

He grunted, eyes drifting over the crowd. “Where is Roland?”

“Watching the jugglers, I believe,” the Duke responded, but he made no move to escort the King to his son, as he should have. Because his true mark stood a few paces beyond, watching the proceedings with indifference as his father departed through the crowd. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

“Is it?” Tristan scowled at him.

“Édouard!”

The Duke twitched at the use of his given name, my Aunt Sylvie’s voice loud enough to cut through the noise of the party. The Queen instinctively turned so that her sister could have her say. The Duke’s expression soured ever so slightly, but then his smile returned with gusto. “Your Grace.”

“Skip the formalities and start walking,” she said, snapping her fingers. “I want to see this atrium that you’re always bragging about.”

The Duke coughed. “Unfortunately it suffered some damage recently that the guild has not yet had time to adequately repair. Perhaps a tour could be arranged at a later date.”

“Now, Édouard,” she said. “And damaged how? I’m sure that’s a fascinating story that I’m dying to hear.”

“Oh yes,” the Queen said. “I would like to see.”

The Duke’s jaw worked back and forth, but he could hardly refuse a request from the Queen herself. The trio departed, but not before my aunt gave me a sly wink.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Pénélope said, and I turned to find Tristan standing in front of me. He waved a hand, and the half-blood Élise came forward with a large vase full of living flowers of a myriad of colors. “These are for you, my lady.”