Rosamund’s brows drew together in question. “What about the Fae royals?”
“They were guests at your christening,” her father said, his gaze firmly planted on his plate.
Her mother signaled the servants and changed the subject. “How about dessert?”
But Rosamund was confused. She had never heard this about her christening. Certainly, she knew the nobility had come, but the Fae royals?
“Why did they come?” she asked, peering down the table at her father.
He was busy sawing through a piece of beef tenderloin. “I invited them.” As he said this, he stabbed the meat with his fork and popped it into his mouth.
“I think that’s enough of that talk,” her mother said.
The servants arrived to clear away the dinner dishes. Her father looked forlorn when they took his plate away with the half-eaten tenderloin. In its place, they placed a dessert plate with a large slab of cake on it.
When they placed the cake in front of Rosamund, though, she merely stared at it. Her mouth had gone dry and she’d lost her appetite.
“I’m not hungry anymore,” she said, then lifted her gaze to her mother. “May I be excused?”
Her mother said nothing for along moment as she considered her request.
“I’m very tired,” Rosamund added.
Finally, her mother nodded. “Very well.”
She pushed from the table and placed her napkin in her chair. The exit to the dining room seemed so far away and it took everything in her not to bolt into a run. Instead, she kept her hands by her side and took perfect, slow steps toward the door. Finally at the door, she pushed it open and slipped out.
But as she did so, she heard Queen Adele say, “Poor thing. I daresay it was a bit of a shock.”
Rosamund skittered away from the door. While she wanted to stay and eavesdrop, she had other tasks to tend. She hurried away from the dining hall and headed for the kitchen. She knew there were servants hard at work, including the cook, but she hoped she could slip in and out unnoticed.
At the doorway, she paused, listening to the cacophony. Voices chattering, dishes clattering, water sloshing. The smell of roasted meat and vegetables wafted to her—remnants of their dinner. She peered around the corner. Most everyone was busy with their own tasks.
She spied a basket of fruit on the far counter. That would work. Next to that, half a loaf of bread. That would work, too.
Stepping into the kitchen, she worked her way down the long wall, past the open oven and to the counter. She snatched the basket off the counter, then reached for the loaf. But she paused, glancing at the bustling kitchen.
No one noticed her.
She grabbed the loaf and tucked it into the basket. Another quick glance around and she spied a discarded kitchen towel that looked relatively clean. She snagged it and threw it over the basket to cover the stolen property.
Then she inched her way back out of the kitchen. At the door, she was home free. She hurried out and then dashed down the long hallway, her heart ramming hard in her chest and her breathing rapid.
She’d done it! So far, her plan was working out.
Next, she had to find Lucy’s room. She continued down the long corridor, going deeper into the castle than she’d ever been. She wasn’t all that familiar with the servant’s area, but she had a general idea of where Lucy’s room was. Voices made her halt in the corridor. She pressed her back against the cold stone wall, her heart in her throat as her breath came in quick pants. She dared not breathe.
“Good night, Mrs. Peeler.” It was Lucy’s voice.
The girl must be heading up to help her change since she assumed dinner was over or close to over. Rosamund held her breath and waited until at last the girl came into view and headed down the hallway.
Right for her.
Her gaze immediately landed on her and she halted, peering at her in surprise. Her mouth formed a silent O.
“Princess?” she asked, her voice a rough whisper. “Was there something you needed?”
“Ah…” Rosamund remained in place, her back against the wall. Her hands started to shake.
