Three quick knocks sound against my door.

“Come in,” I call.

“Your Majesty.” Helena stands at the entrance to the room. I motion for her to enter and she curtsies on her way in.

It’s still too early in the morning for me to have any real duties to attend to, and though no one would dare interrupt me if I decided to sleep in, it’s impossible to break the habit of waking up so early in the morning, the way I used to for work.

That work is something I used to go to is still so strange to me. I keep thinking of my phone, abandoned on the side of the road somewhere, lighting up with email after email of deadlines I’m missing, meetings I have to go to.

The past few days have been a flurry of adjusting to things I never in my life thought I would have to. Helena and Leela look for my permission to enter rooms I’m in, they bow and curtsey more times than I can count in a day, and they tiptoe around basic conversation, always careful not to offend me.

It’s exhausting, not having people say things directly to your face

Helena offers me a piece of parchment folded in half. “For you, Your Majesty.”

I take the paper and quickly scan the contents. Usually when she hands me one of these, it’s a note from one of the snooty counselors, making some shady suggestion and trying to pass it off as helpful.

This time, however, my heart leaps in my chest at the words on the page.

“It’s an invitation,” I say.

“An invitation?” Helena asks.

“From Prince Griffin. To join him for breakfast this morning in the gardens.”

Helena frowns, but doesn’t say anything. Finally, she sighs and drags her feet towards the door. “I’ll go get Leela.”

***

Sunlight warms my face and the bare skin of my arms as I step out in the gardens. Lush green bushes line the walkways, broken up by flowers in bursts of pinks and reds and purples. The early morning air is still crisp and the breeze carries the sound of birds singing.

At the center of it all is Prince Griffin, sitting at a round table.

He stands from his seat and meets me in the middle, nodding to the guard who escorted me to the gardens.

“Your Majesty, good morning,” he says.

“Good morning, Prince Griffin.”

He holds an arm out for me. “I trust that you slept well?”

I slip my arm through his, trying to calm my racing heart. Everyone here offers their arm, people walking through the palace linked in twos and threes. But the warmth radiating from Prince Griffin’s body, the light scent of his cologne—it’s markedly different from holding Helena or Leela’s arms.

“I did, thank you for asking,” I say. “And you?”

“I slept well and woke up even better at the thought that I might get to spend breakfast with you.”

His smile is bright and easy, and I find that I can’t keep a matching one off my face.

He pulls my seat out for me before taking his own and gestures to a maid to bring out the food. Within moments, plates of freshly baked pastries, loaves of bread, sweet creams, and fresh fruit fill the table. The most shocking thing about the palace has been the food. It’s always warm and so fresh it’s like it was made the moment I asked for it. Even the fruits taste like they’ve just been picked off a tree or plucked from their vines.

“I wasn’t sure what you might like, so I asked for a little bit of everything.”

“Thank you,” I say, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. Messalina was probably used to eating like this everyday, but the most I ever used to have for breakfast was a cup of coffee.

Prince Griffin chooses a croissant, cuts it down the middle, and smears the inside with butter and thick jam.

I grab a thick slice of bread and help myself to the butter as well.

“Your Majesty, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you for breakfast. I won’t prolong the mystery. The truth is, I’ve been very worried about your safety and the safety of everyone in the palace. My brother’s killer is likely still lurking among us.”

Nico’s face flashes in my mind and I have to tear off a piece of bread and shove it in my mouth before I say anything stupid.

“I appreciate your concern,” I say after I swallow, and find myself meaning it. “I know we’re using every resource we have to find the killer.”

Prince Griffin frowns at the remains of his croissant. “I worry that it’s not enough. Especially when it concerns your safety.”

“Don’t worry yourself over—”

Prince Griffin puts his hand over mine. He catches my eye and looks at me so deeply it feels as though he can see through my body and into my soul.

“Forgive my frankness, Your Majesty, but I would sooner join my brother in an early grave than live the rest of my life knowing that you were hurt when I could have done something to prevent it.”

“Prince Griffin, really.” I pull my hand out from under his. “That’s a bit too much, don’t you think?” I trail off into laughter that sounds awkward to my own ears.

“I won’t stand to allow the Tarasque name to be soiled, especially not with your blood.”

Apparently not too much. Guilt churns my stomach, making breakfast feel like laundry in the spin cycle. This queasiness is all I’ve been feeling recently.

Fire blazes in his eyes. The bright, clear blue of them is entirely unlike Evren’s, but still so beautiful. Where Evren made the perfect ruler, Griffin makes the perfect prince. His thick blonde hair falls across his forehead in just the right way to make him look roguish and charming, while Evren’s was long and sleek and pulled high in a ponytail. Evren looked distant and unapproachable, but Griffin’s face is open and honest, and he’s been more forward with his concerns and suspicions than anyone I’ve met thus far. It’s refreshing.

I resolve then and there not to give him a reason to close himself off.

“Prince Griffin,” I say, laying my hand across his this time. “I promise you that we’ll get to the bottom of this and that we’ll all come out of it safe.”

His eyes flick to where our hands meet, and then up to mine. His smile is somehow so much warmer than any of the others he’s given me this morning.

“I’ll hold you to it.”