Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
And sometimes, destiny is just a bitch.
— From the journal of Violet Andrever
Iwoke, like I usually did, with the sun. It took me a minute to realize where I was before it all came flooding back.
New realm.
Princess.
Magic.
Oof.
Even though I was loath to step out into the chilly morning air and see what disaster today brought, I had never been good at just lounging in bed.
Although I had to admit, it was the most comfortable bed I’d ever been in.
I made quick work in the bathroom before investigating the wardrobe.
I’d been right last night, I noted as I sorted through dress after dress.
I didn’t mind dresses—in fact, I kind of liked an excuse to dress up—but not knowing what I was getting myself into today, I didn’t want to be encumbered by skirts.
I dug through the closet until I found something that might work.
I pulled on the tight-fitting black pants, the quality unlike anything I’d ever worn before, and a matching shirt that was clearly designed to go under the hunter-green corset-like vest. As I laced it up, I couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship that had gone into creating the elaborate tool work on the leather vest, the swirling patterns that danced across the surface.
The matching tall boots hit mid-calf, reminiscent of my boots from home, but with supple leather and finer stitching.
Somehow, everything fit as if it had been specifically tailored to me.
No one appeared in the time it took me to get dressed, although admittedly, it was still early. Most likely, the staff wasn’t anticipating the princess to be awake and moving with the sun. I was hungry, though, and figured I could find my way to the kitchens.
Before stepping out of my rooms, I turned my attention inward once more.
The mental shield that Finn had taught me how to construct last night had held.
I reinforced it like Finn had showed me, bringing up the purple channel and weaving a protection around my mind.
The last thing I needed was to be bombarded with other people’s thoughts and lose myself again.
Throwing my long braid over my shoulder, I followed my nose, which hadn’t led me wrong yet.
What I hadn’t counted on was the maze of hallways.
I continually went down mostly empty halls that just ended, or had staircases that only went up.
I only partially recalled my tour from yesterday but I did remember hearing that the kitchens were in the basement.
Luckily, I was dressed like everyone else up and about at this hour and no one paid me any attention.
Pausing at a window, I froze. The morning light illuminated a sprawling complex bigger than I could possibly have imagined last night.
There were lower buildings interspersed between the turrets and ramparts.
Spiral towers that stretched towards the sky.
What appeared to be a training yard was just visible in the distance—a massive, grassy expanse where I could just make out the tiny figures executing their intricate dance.
My palm twitched, reaching for the sword that wasn’t there, eager to join in.
I descended a staircase that ended abruptly on a different floor.
Peering over the railing, I spotted another staircase directly below, but I couldn’t figure out how to get there from my current position.
Looking around and seeing no one, I decided to risk it.
Vaulting over the railing, I landed heavily on the lower staircase.
Luckily, this one continued its downward spiral, and eventually, I emerged onto what I hoped was the ground floor.
More people were milling around here, the scent of food wafting through the air.
Some carried trays piled high with breakfast food, while others held baskets filled with freshly baked bread and pastries.
I went in the direction they came from and eventually found my way to the kitchen entrance.
While significantly larger than any other kitchen I’d been in, this at least was familiar.
Instead of one cooking fire, there were several, their crackling a welcome sound of normalcy.
A massive central hearth had the place of honor, with several smaller ones located around it—spits for turning meat, kettles hanging with boiling water, and bread ovens lining the walls.
Long wooden tables, scarred from years of chopping, filled the space, with sturdy stools positioned for when the workers needed a rest. Along one wall stood the same wooden tables, overflowing with food—breads, pastries, cured meats, dried and fresh fruits.
Pots and pans hung on the brick walls, easily accessible for the kitchen staff to grab.
Everything you would need to feed the army of people that I assumed called this place home.
There was a pleasant buzz to the air. Everyone was busy chopping, stirring, opening and closing ovens, but through it all was the pleasant sound of conversation between people who enjoyed their work and enjoyed each other.
I found a matronly woman with a kind expression and begged a breakfast plate off of her.
She looked to be about fifty, with her graying hair pulled back in a bun and a big white apron covering her clothes.
She took pity on me and seated me at the workers’ table, piling a plate high with eggs, bacon, and toast. I thanked her for her kindness, especially given the bustling around us.
She waved my thanks aside. “Yesterday was Gaelthine so things will be a bit slow around here today, what with the celebration and then most people taking off yesterday to be with family.” Looking me over, she asked, “When did you arrive?”
“Just last night.”
“And your master didn’t inform you of any of this?” She clucked her tongue.
She thought I was staff. Perfect.
I made idle conversation with her and the other kitchen staff while I ate, learning more about the schedules of meals here, arguably the most important thing to learn at a new place.
That was when they found me.
As soon as the twins entered, the kitchen staff swarmed them.
Clearly, they were favorites. Finn took them up on their various offers for food, but Griff only had eyes for me.
As Finn pulled up a stool, I was again struck by a strong sense that I had known him—them, I amended—for significantly longer than just a day.
“So this is where you got off to. We knocked on your door, but obviously you didn’t answer,” Finn said, digging into his breakfast.
Griff accepted a cup of coffee from a blushing kitchen maid, and pilfered a piece of Finn’s bacon.
“I’m sorry if I worried you.”
Finn dismissed my apology with a wave of a hand holding half-eaten toast. “We learned that Griff somehow has a magical talent for knowing where you are.”
I raised my brows, but Griff just shrugged and ate another piece of Finn’s bacon.
“No one expected you to be up this early,” Finn continued. “Most people in your situation would take advantage and sleep in.”
“Pretty much impossible for me.” I shrugged.
“But Lexie—” Finn paused and snatched his last piece of bacon from his brother’s grasp. “May I call you Lexie?”
No one had before—but I was in a new kingdom, might as well get a new nickname. And it was better than Princess.
At my nod, he continued, “I’d expect a deluge of people at any moment.” He gestured toward the open door, bacon flopping in his hand.
“I don’t know if I’d say at any moment,” Griff murmured, his first comment of the day. “They do still have to find her.”
“And what are my chances of escaping before that happens?” I muttered, but both twins heard me. Finn laughed and Griff’s mouth twitched.
We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments more, the sounds and bustle of the kitchen making me long for the hearth at home with Nana.
She would be up with the sun as well. Was she proceeding with her day as normal?
Or was she looking around, instinctively wondering where I had disappeared, before remembering that I was gone?
Loud footsteps pounded through the hallway, followed by a boy of about twelve bursting through the door. “Has anyone seen—” He stopped dead as he saw me before whipping around and charging out the door again. The shout of “I found her!” echoed through the hallway.
I looked in alarm at the twins. “Should I do anything about that?”
“Nah,” Finn said, popping a piece of a muffin into his mouth. “Just wait.”
I looked at Griff, question in my eyes.
“I’m sure it’ll be resolved shortly, Princess,” he said over a sip of coffee.
That was ominous.
But Griff wasn’t wrong. The thunder of footsteps resounded behind us. My shoulders tensed as I prepared myself for whatever was about to happen.
“Brace yourself.” Finn gave me a sympathetic look.
I plucked Griff’s coffee out of his hand and downed it. He shot me a look but made no comment.
So this was my first full day as a princess. I sent a silent apology to the kitchen staff around me who were about to have their world turned upside down, if the number of footsteps were anything to judge. But how bad could it be?
Turned out pretty bad.
A cacophony of colors assaulted me as I was surrounded by people, like flies to honey.
I had to assume they were courtiers, from the clearly expensive fabric of their clothes and the jewels dripping off of them.
I twisted on my stool as I turned from person to person clamoring for my attention.
I could barely make out anything anyone was saying over the racket.
And then it got worse as I lost the tentative hold on my mental shield and the deafening thoughts thundered into me.
It was dizzying, like I was being spun on the stool in ever-quickening circles.
I began to panic, unable to separate myself from everyone else.
All of their thoughts and feelings swarmed over mine, suffocating my own.
“Finn!” I screamed mentally, hoping against hope he’d hear this and could do something.