2
I touched my mouth, too mortified to replay the moment.
An unbidden memory resurfaced. Mother had drawn away from my hugs the spring I turned eleven—when I was no longer a little girl to indulge, but a young woman ready for molding.
That was the moment she stopped loving me.
I didn’t know how long I stood there until footsteps echoed down the hall behind me.
“Is there something wrong, my dear?”
I whirled around. Lady Marianna, King Maximus’s sister, stood with a shawl tucked around her shoulders, her graying hair swept back into a loose braid. Though her estate was in Vandil, she was here to take part in the festivities. It looked as if she decided on an evening stroll after getting ready for bed. She held a candle in one hand, its meager light illuminating the hallway.
I dipped my head. “Lady Marianna.” I forced a smile. “Everything is fine.”
“You looked like you were trembling, dear.” She glanced at the closed doors of Bennett’s study. “I hope my nephew didn’t upset you.”
My face colored. “Not at all.”
“You can be honest with me, Narcissa,” Lady Marianna said with a motherly smile. It reminded me of my stepmother’s—the expression would always give Lady Vanessa’s eyes a mysterious sparkle. A wave of homesickness washed over me. “Bennett is busier than usual, isn’t he?”
And he was acting like himself a year ago, before our engagement tour. Stiff and distant.
“We’re both busy,” I said instead.
“You’re helping him?”
I straightened my shoulders. “As much as I can.”
Lady Marianna hummed. “Have you two been spending time together outside of duties?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Our entire week had been spent giving palace tours to the ambassadors who arrived early. And before that, I was pulled away for different errands regarding the pre-ball banquet and the guest list while Bennett was left to work with King Maximus. We parted ways in the evenings until work began again the next morning.
“We see each other often,” I said, forcing a smile.
Lady Marianna pursed her lips. “I see.”
“Perhaps we’ll take a turn about the gardens tomorrow,” I said, hoping to appease her.
Lady Marianna smiled again, though this one was inexplicably more mischievous than her last. I looked over my shoulder, wondering if she was sharing a joke with someone I couldn’t see.
“That will do nicely! You two could use the fresh air and exercise. Oh. And the Ambassadors Ball is in two days, yes? Is your dressmaker Giselle coming?”
“She arrived tonight,” I said, this time with a genuine smile. I was looking forward to the charmwitch’s visit all week. I would have to pay her my regards tomorrow.
“Very good. I wonder if she’ll have time to whip something up for me,” Lady Marianna said. She pursed her lips again after searching my face. “And you’re certain you’re alright dear?”
I nodded, unsure of what else to say.
THE PRINCESS SUITE was situated in the adjacent wing of the palace. It was newly refurbished, as Olderea hadn’t seen a princess since Queen Cordelia arrived overseas thirty years ago. The bedchamber was dominated by a massive mattress, framed by pink bed curtains that cascaded like a velvety waterfall from a gilded bed crown. I had been sleeping in it for the past month.
It wasn’t as comfortable as it looked, though the numerous tassels on the curtains would certainly delight a cat. I looked toward the balcony out of habit, Misty’s name on the tip of my tongue.
My stomach sank when I remembered she wasn’t there. I had left her at Greenwood Abbey with Pippin and their kittens, afraid that Sister Scarlett would catch wind about my embarrassing attachment to felines.
I stopped searching the shadows and rung the bell.
A maid helped me prepare for bed, brushing out my hair and helping me into my nightgown—a floaty, sleeveless slip that I had sweated through more times than I could count.
When I was settled in my massive bed with its over starched sheets, the maid began to blow out the candles.
“Not these, please,” I said as she approached the ones at my bedside.
She bobbed a curtsy. “Of course, milady.”
I opened my mouth to say something else, but the door clicked shut behind her. The palace staff was as efficient as they were standoffish.
I shifted across my mattress for nearly three feet, the starched linen scratching unpleasantly against my legs, before finally reaching the bedside table where I had placed Bennett’s notes. My eyes caught the clipping of the Sister Scarlett article underneath the papers, which I had guiltily kept after reading. Painful as it was, it served as a reminder to do better.
Gossip never fazed me when I was just the duchess’s daughter. I was never my true self under Mother’s influence. But now, I was my own mistress. I wanted to be seen as a worthy crown princess—far more than a pretty ornament or a vessel for heirs. Far more than Queen Cordelia was ever allowed to be.
It was because of this that I had moved into the palace and asked to be Bennett’s shadow for the past month.
I didn't know what I expected, but it seemed that all Bennett did was work. If it wasn’t reading reports, it was social calls with courtiers. Then council meetings with the king, and now welcoming foreign ambassadors into the palace. Meals and sleep were merely short intermissions—something I found vastly uncomfortable due to my life of leisure at Greenwood Abbey.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and picked up Bennett’s notes. The first lines of his dense handwriting flickered in the candlelight.
Ambassador Raven of Hortvia—mentioned trade routes to Olderea and the rising prices of witch-made textiles. Check in with Hortvia textiles to compare pricing.
Good heavens. How had he even noticed that passing comment within Raven’s two minute greeting?
Ambassador Judith of Florensia—wore furs despite weather. Perhaps a statement on the value of Florensian furs.
Furs on a hot day? Surely the statement was more fashion-related.
I fought back a yawn, squinting at the third line. My eyes blurred. I rubbed them, not expecting to see wetness on my hand.
My thoughts were filling in for Misty’s. We would’ve joked about this together.
I glanced around at the empty bed and the threshold of the overly large balcony. No feline form in sight. No friend to confide in. No pet to curl around my head during sleep. Heavens, I missed her. And Pippin. And their darling kittens.
I was jolted from my pitiful state with the sound of a splatter. One of my tears mottled the corner of Bennett’s notes, causing the ink to bloom. I hurriedly wiped it away, but the damage was done. The seventh line was now irrevocably smeared.
“Ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, wiping my eyes furiously. I put the notes away and sunk into bed, too tired to continue.
If only Sister Scarlett could see me now. She’d be thrilled she finally wrote an article with some truth.