Surely I’m still dreaming. But considering I was trapped inside a palace known for its enchanted gardens, that was unlikely. The enchantment must extend to the plants within the palace walls as well.
The carnations were still for a moment, as if suddenly shy at having been caught, before one tentatively reached out again to stroke my hair in a motherly way, its petals soft and almost tender. My hair was a tangled mess from my nap, and the leaves began to patiently work through the tangles, their touch gentle.
I yawned and rubbed my eyes. “How long was I asleep?”
They gestured towards the window, where through the slit in the drapes I could see the sun hanging low in the sky as evening neared. My stomach jolted. I’d slept most of the afternoon away, losing more time than I could afford.
I nearly tripped over the blanket someone had draped over me as I stumbled from the bed and tugged open the curtains to stare across the grounds, cast in a sheen of golden light from the sun hugging the horizon. My breath caught, for from my vantage point the grounds looked like a colorful patchwork quilt. My ever-present curiosity returned, pleading for me to explore…
No, there wasn’t time for that. I had to leave as soon as possible. As soon as night fell I’d use the cover of darkness to sneak away; no prince or enchanted gardens could keep me trapped against my will. Surely there had to be other avenues of escape. My mind worked frantically as I planned, pausing only at the knock on my door.
I turned as it opened and a maid bustled in, an elegant crimson dress draped over her arm. She swept into a curtsy the moment she spotted me standing near the window. “Good evening, Miss Maren. His Highness has assigned me to tend to you for the duration of your stay.”
Which will only be for a few hours more. I forced a smile. “How kind of him.”
She came closer and paused to stare at me before she hastily blinked and bridged the remaining distance between us.
“His Highness has requested you join him for dinner, so I’ve arrived to help you dress.” She held up the gown, made of satin and embroidered with designs in gold thread, a dress far too fine for me to run away in. “This gown belongs to Princess Reve, which he has graciously allowed you to borrow.”
I longingly fingered the golden trim. “And she won’t mind?”
The maid hesitated. “She—I’m sure not, considering she’s in no position to use her wardrobe.”
I puckered my brow. How peculiar. But no matter; I couldn’t accept such a gesture, as tempting as it was. I stepped away. “I won’t be joining His Highness for dinner.”
She gaped at me in disbelief. “But he’s requested it. Surely you can’t refuse.”
I likely couldn’t, for when it came to the royal family, request was a synonym for command. But the last thing I wanted was to dine with the man who, intentionally or not, was effectively my captor. Although he claimed it was his garden’s doing, the fact he’d stood by and done nothing made it all too easy to cast part of the blame at his feet.
“I am refusing,” I said clearly. “His Highness told me I’m to be his guest, and as his guest I have the right to choose where to take my meals, and I’d prefer to take them in my room.”
She blinked at me. “But—”
“I’m afraid I must insist on this,” I said. “You may thank His Highness for the invitation, but I will not accept it.” I turned my back on her to face the window again. In the course of our conversation, the sun had sunk even lower, replacing the previous pools of light with shadows, which made the gardens appear almost spooky.
The maid hesitated before she took her leave. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, I relaxed my stiffened stance. My stomach growled in clear disapproval of my decision. The makeshift meal I’d eaten as I’d wandered the woods felt so long ago, and a lavish meal would have been most welcome. But I refused to be swayed; I wouldn’t dine with the prince.
“No complaints,” I firmly scolded my hunger. “We must be strong. We cannot allow His Highness to try to earn our good favor. Besides, we need to concentrate on getting out of here so we can be on our way.”
My stomach gave another gurgle in objection and I sighed. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so stubborn, but it was too late now.
To distract myself from my gnawing insides, I returned my thoughts to my escape plan: I’d sneak away when it grew dark. Once I found a way outside the gate, I’d head north…no, south. Or was it east? Regardless, I’d head for the capital, which I remembered from my studies was only a mile or so away from this main palace. With a steady pace, I’d arrive before midnight and could have a nice hot meal at an inn, and then tomorrow I could begin looking for work and a more permanent place to stay. All would be well.
Another knock sounded at the door. “Miss Maren?”
I clenched my jaw. Prince Briar. “What is it?” I asked stiffly.
“I’m here to escort you to dinner.”
Even though he couldn’t see it on the other side of the door, I scowled. “I’m afraid I’m not going to dinner. I’m not hungry.”
My stomach growled again in protest. I prayed that His Highness hadn’t heard it. Then he’d know I was lying…but by his heavy silence, I knew he likely suspected it already.
He sighed, confirming my suspicion. “It’s not in my nature to force anyone, especially a lady, but I must insist on your eating something. If you don’t want to join me, then I’ll arrange for a tray to be brought to your room.” He waited for my reply. When none came, I heard his footsteps retreat down the hallway.
True to his word, a tray of food arrived shortly after. I half expected a small meal, but with the fine cuts of meat, fruits, and elegant side dishes, I’d clearly received a plate from the prince’s own table. Guilt seeped over me at his thoughtful gesture, and for a moment I wavered in my resentment—perhaps I’d been treating him unfairly.
I gave my head a firm shake. No, I was treating him exactly how he deserved. He might be kind, but an honorable warden was still a warden.
I wrapped up the food I could easily take with me when I escaped before settling on the edge of the bed to pull the tray closer. I was delighted to discover that the food was still hot; the mouthwatering steam rose up to tickle my cheeks, and the delicious meal warmed my insides as I disregarded my manners and ate ravenously.
I paused mid-bite when something brushed against my ankle. I glanced down to find that a potted plant near my feet had reached out with its long leaves to brush against my ripped hem. It shook in clear disapproval; if it could speak, it’d certainly be tsking.
I reached out a hesitant fingertip to caress one of the leaves and words tickled my mind. Dirty and torn. We must mend it.
“Thank you for the gesture, but there’s no need.” After all, if I was about to escape, there was little point.
But the plant ignored me as it quickly procured needle and thread from the nightstand drawer and immersed itself in its sewing. I stared, my food entirely forgotten, as I watched it mend first the hem, followed by one of the holes in my skirt, then another.
The carnations suddenly brushed my hand, causing me to jump. Eat, they ordered, and I dutifully returned to my meal, finishing it in only a few more bites. I stood while the plant was still mid-stitch. “I’m going to explore the gardens.”