“I do.”
“Are you going to share that plan with me?”
“Should I?”
“It would be nice,” she said, agitation clawing through her. She gripped her tea cup in one hand, the warmth pulsing through her palm as her hand cramped.
“If I do, and you don’t approve, then I cannot move forward with that plan.”
She clenched her jaw. “Why? Are you planning to stand on the chair and announce my existence to the entire tavern?”
He flushed hot, then laughed as he dropped his cup on the table. “Actually, I was.”
She gaped at him, mortification shifting through her. “You can’t.”
“Why not? Is it not the truth?”
“It is, but—”
He shot to his feet so fast, the chair scraped against the floor with a squeak. He clapped his hands to get the attention of the patrons.
“My lords, my ladies, I have an announcement you will all want to hear,” he said, his voice loud and sure and strong.
Snow wanted to crawl into a deep hole and hide. She sat, paralyzed, as she stared at him as heat pounded through her, willing him to return to his seat and be quiet. But he did not.
All eyes focused on Roderick. And then he did exactly as she had suggested. He stepped into the chair to elevate himself above all the others.
“Well? What is this big announcement?” a gruff patron at the bar demanded.
He was a burly man with a thick head of hair that tumbled to his shoulders and a belly that hung over his belt. He leaned back against the bar on his elbows holding a large tankard in one hand of what she assumed was ale.
“The princess and heir to the throne is not dead,” Roderick said. “Nay, she lives. And she sits right here.” He motioned to her.
All eyes turned to her, boring into her. But she kept her gaze focused solely on Roderick who stood tall in the chair, his gaze flickering around the room asking anyone to defy him.
Then someone laughed and rose from his seat near the front of the room. “How do we know you’re telling the truth? That she is who you say she is? The princess disappeared years ago.”
“I tell you true, good sir,” Roderick said. “She lives and she is ready to reclaim her throne from the evil queen.”
A tingling sensation went through her as she stared at him, her mouth suddenly dry. Her hands shook. What if these people thought she was an imposter? And then she recalled the pendant around her neck. The one that would show the world she was the princess. With her heart pounding a wicked beat, she placed her palms flat on the table and pushed up from the chair.
“Roderick speaks true,” she said, trying to make her voice strong. “I bear the sigil of the royal house. The rose and the crown. It was a gift from my father before the queen murdered him in his sleep.”
Surprised, he glanced down at her. Then a smile pulled up the corner of his mouth. He jumped down from the chair and moved to stand next to her.
“My good friends,” he said, motioning to her, “your princess and heir to the throne.”
A deafening silence descended around them. The large man at the bar pushed off his stool, still holding his tankard of ale. He moved toward her, his steps slow and sure and his gaze narrow. He paused in front of her.
“If you are indeed the princess, then let’s see the sigil,” he demanded.
She held the pendant in her palm and extended it as far as the chain would allow. The man squinted at her with his suspicion, then leaned down to examine the pendant resting against her hand. It gleamed in the half light of the tavern, the rose and crown winking up at him. He lifted his gaze to hers, then dropped to one knee, bowing to her.
“Your majesty,” he said, his voice rough.
Others crowded around then, determined to get a look at the pendant she held. She refused to slip it off her head for fear someone would take it from her and she would never see it again. Every person who saw the sigil on the pendant dropped to a knee or curtsied to show their respect.
“You told us true, good sir,” the large man said to Roderick. Then to Snow, “We are honored by your presence. But tell us, why have you been gone so long?”
