Façade

FAÇADE CAMILLE PETERS FAÇADE By: Rosewood Publications Copyright © 2023 by Camille Peters All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Rosewood Publications Salt Lake City, Utah United States of America www.camillepeters.com Cover Design by Karri Klawiter CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Epilogue Thank You Also by Camille Peters Acknowledgments About the Author CHAPTER 1 The heated stares of the royal court crowding the meeting room monitored my every move with scrutiny, as if waiting for me to mess up. Their judgement pressed against my shoulders, an invisible burden of expectation that I’d long grown weary of bearing. I sat up a little straighter in my seat, ensuring my shoulders were pulled back rather than remaining in the slouched position I found all too easy to succumb to. Even after I’d fixed my posture, they still stared. I wasn’t sure what they found so fascinating when the king was addressing them about matters far more important than me, their crown princess…yet their attention persisted. I looked around at the dozen diplomats sitting around the table with father at the head on a raised dais. My gaze settled on the royal adviser, whose look was particularly pointed. Despite his grandfatherly nature, his constant critiques showed his frequent disapproval of my performance. His relentless scrutiny made me acutely aware I was failing, despite my best attempts to measure up. I tried to ignore the court’s sharp observation in order to listen to Father, a difficult task with the restlessness that cloaked me from sitting so long. Beside me, Mother sat completely still, her perfect posture unmoving and her focus never wavering. She was an exemplary embodiment of a queen, someone I greatly admired despite her example being one I could aspire to but never quite reach. Even midst her poise, she remained attuned to my struggles. Though her attention never wavered from Father’s address concerning Estoria’s trade relations, she rested a comforting hand on my knee, the motherly gesture hidden from others’ view by the table. Our gazes met briefly, long enough for me to give her a grateful smile. Though she often bestowed a reassuring one in return—one of many I’d come to treasure over the years—this time, worry tightened her features, along with an emotion different than her usual concern, an expression that seemed almost…sad. At my questioning glance she looked away and, after a moment, withdrew her touch sooner than she normally would. I frowned but hastily forced a smile, considering the heated stares still fixed on me waiting for me to mess up despite my best efforts. I’d grown weary of their expectations; I already found it difficult to maintain the faith in myself that others lacked for their future queen, my parents being the sole exception. I fought to keep my expression impassive so as not to betray my worry, even as my mind speculated the reason for Mother’s behavior, a mystery much more interesting than Father’s speech. I’d valiantly fought to pay attention long past my limit, making it all too easy for my mind to gratefully seize hold upon the first excuse to divert its exhausting concentration; no matter how much effort I expended in keeping my thoughts focused, they remained constantly at work, searching for a new path in which to meander. Mother’s rare display of worry was the only excuse I needed to allow my thoughts to wander freely. Her control over her emotions rarely faltered, especially in public. I carefully combed through the events of the day for any clue as to what might have upset her. Surely it couldn’t be me—I’d done my best to maintain the proper behavior and hadn’t succumbed to my usual habit of speaking when I wasn’t supposed to or saying something that would have been best kept to myself. Perhaps her mood concerned my habit to attend our private meals without shoes. My silk slippers pinched my toes, but even with my feet hidden from view beneath the table, I resisted the impulse to take my shoes off in the presence of the court. As the crown princess I had an image to uphold, one I would continue to maintain no matter how many times I faltered. As crown princess of Estoria, I’d spent my entire life trained in the royal role expected of me, one I found both difficult and wearying, as if trapped in a constant performance. But though I carefully executed each step in this waltz of pretend, the façade often felt moments away from slipping from my fragile hold. The sound of chairs scraping the marble floor abruptly brought my thoughts back to the present as the surrounding advisors and nobles rose from their seats; the meeting must have concluded when my attention had been diverted elsewhere. My parents’ usual routine was to stay back to patiently discuss the particulars of the meeting with me to discern how much information I’d been able to retain. However, this time Mother stiffly rose, her movements agitated as she approached Father. He paused in straightening his documents to look up. They exchanged several tense whispers, their gazes frequently darting in my