She looked vaguely disappointed when I didn’t question her further, but Celine had told me the stories about how Alyssa had once been a woodcutter’s daughter who stumbled upon the Arcadian winter castle in a storm. That she had finished by marrying the prince would once have astonished me beyond belief, but when the High King opened up the way between our two sets of kingdoms, the godmothers—always active in the Four Kingdoms—had returned to our lands as well. Now we were relearning the old ways.
Prince Maximilian was the crown prince, and a land ruled by true love prospered for all. There was a reason godmothers aided princes and princesses as they did.
“I hope no new darkness is coming,” I said heavily, “after so many years of peace.”
Nikki gaped at me, and I realized too late that my words were hardly promoting the impression I was unaffected by the attack.
“Gracious, I hope not!” she said. “Why? Do you think there might be a darkness coming? Weren’t they just robbers, then?” She gave me another intense sideways glance.
For a moment I was tempted to try telling her the truth that they had been Eldonian traitors. But I didn’t want to risk her seeing me babbling soundlessly as the queen had done.
“I don’t know,” I said instead.
She looked disappointed. Her age and familiarity with the princess suggested she was far too senior a staff member to be assigned to showing me my bed. And I knew full well how fast information spread in a palace. Had she heard about me and volunteered for the task in the hope that she would find me full of interesting information—or at least excitingly deranged? I could only hope that since I was forced to disappoint her on one count, I would also succeed at disappointing her on the other. I forced myself to make an effort.
“The palace is beautiful,” I said. “Are the staff happy working here?”
“Oh, yes. There’s a few who prefer a different sort of hustle and bustle, like you can find at the Blue Arrow Inn, but for most, you can’t find a better place to work than the palace. We get paid fair and all have time off—even the scullery maids and messenger boys. And Mrs. Pine and Dorkins don’t hold with no trouble.”
I nodded appreciatively. We had already passed a number of people hurrying to and fro, and all seemed full of energy and good cheer, even if they did all give me looks of undisguised curiosity.
“Ah, here we are,” Nikki said, pushing open a plain wooden door.
I blinked at it. Alcove, Mrs. Pine had said, but it looked remarkably like a broom cupboard to me. Peering through the doorway, I saw a bed had somehow been wedged inside, leaving a narrow strip of space beside it. Only the small window made me question my initial impression of a storage closet. I had slept in caves on a snow-covered mountain, but I had never slept in a room like this. My twinge of distaste made me feel guilty. I had told Sierra she didn’t understand the true role of a princess, but perhaps I had forgotten as well if I thought it was about sleeping in nice beds and having lots of space to move.
“There’s tubs under the bed for your things,” Nikki said. “Once they’ve been delivered, that is. I’m sure they will be along any time now. Annice is in charge of the servants’ uniforms, and she’s not one to dally. She’ll have something your size sitting by, you mark my words.”
She surveyed the neat bed with a satisfied look. “You’re mighty near the kitchens here, so there might be some noise, but better than a roommate who snores, eh?” She grinned. “Most of us have rooms on the next floor up, but you have to work for years to get seniority for a single one.”
Her satisfied look told me that she currently enjoyed the privilege.
“I’m very grateful to Mrs. Pine.” It was certainly a better situation than some I had envisioned in the last few hours, and I was determined to be comfortable in it. I would prove to myself, along with Sierra, that being a princess wasn’t about the life of luxury and power she seemed to think it.
“Well, I suppose I should leave you now,” Nikki said slowly, giving me a hopeful look.
I made no effort to convince her to stay, nor to ask her for a tour, so she completed her farewell. Pointing further down the corridor, she told me where to find the kitchens, adding that many of the servants gathered in the dining hall in the evenings.
As soon as she had disappeared from sight, I abandoned my room—if it could be called that—without a backward glance, heading in the direction of the kitchens.
Chapter 5
Every palace kitchen I had ever seen had a door out into the yard, and the Arcadian one was no different.
I slipped through the chaos of the huge room, full of people laboring over the evening meal. Someone rushed by, nearly colliding with me, too intent on her task to either apologize or upbraid me.
I was more prepared for the second near collision, sidestepping the servant as she rushed back in the other direction. The smells made me want to linger, but thoughts of Arvin drove me on.
Coming out into the yard, I paused for a moment to get my bearings. It only took a moment to orient myself and identify the vast stables. Breaking into a run, I crossed the small open space and burst through the doors.
Long rows of stalls stretched out before me, full of familiar smells and the sound of stomping hooves and whuffing breaths. Somewhere down the row, a horse neighed, and another answered.
I looked around wildly before forcing myself to take a deep breath. More than ever it was important that I present a calm and reasoned presence. But my heart beat too fast, reflecting back my fear that I might already be too late. Surely they wouldn’t have acted with such speed? Would they?
“Can I help you?” a vaguely familiar voice asked.
My eyes found Philip, leaning against the doorway of a small storage room wedged between two stalls. I walked down the row toward him.
“I’m looking for my horse. Have you seen him? The one without saddle or bridle?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Your horse?”
“Oh, well…” I floundered. “I mean Princess Giselle’s horse, of course. Arvin.”
“Ah, yes, I know how it can be with royals.” He began to chew on a long strand of straw, something almost like amusement in his eyes. “Every mount is interchangeable to them, and it’s left up to us poor servants to love the beasts.”
“I don’t know what royals he’s talking about,” said a new voice. “But it isn’t ours.” A groom popped out of a nearby stall. “Our princess still visits old Starfire whenever she gets the chance, although she has a younger mount for everyday riding now. And the young princesses cried for a week when their old ponies passed.”
It took me a moment to untangle the various princesses he referenced. ‘Our princess’ must be Princess Alyssa, the only adult princess left in Arcadia. And when he spoke of the young princesses, he must mean Lily and Sophie—Prince Max’s younger twin sisters, now happily married and living across the sea in two of my own group of kingdoms. I wished I could tell him I knew the twins and ask for stories about their childhood. But that was the sort of thing I would have done as Princess Giselle. I was Elle the goose girl now, and I had no business knowing princesses.
Looking at the man more closely, I realized I recognized him.