Servants were lining up to clean the council room once they heard how dusty it was. That and the need to hear the back and forth of whether King Wulfric would have his way or not. I was more than willing to step back and let them have their fun—it’s the only kind they have here. Yet Orsic really didn’t play favorites. Especially with me. So, it wasn’t long before I was shoved into the council room with a bunch of rags and a broom. 

From wiping down the few odd pieces of art and scrubbing away boot prints—I was somehow less entertained by all the shouting. Irritation erupted from every member, each of whom found the courage to speak since the last meeting. All of them tried their best to convince the king to give up his daughter for the safety of the kingdom, but Lionel was hard set. 

One would pipe up, “If we can bring one of Wulfric’s kin here then your daughter’s safety is more than assured!”

The king would shout. “He has no kin!” Always running a hand through his shadowed hair. 

Then another advisor would try, “This is what she was born for. To serve her kingdom—save her people!”

I’ve seen children born into kitchens and stables too—no one ever called their suffering noble. 

I shook the thought out of my head. 

“Your Highness.” You wouldn’t have to turn your head to know Collins was speaking. He had a gentle way of commanding the room with his voice. Every head would look his way, and tongues go silent. “Wulfric is known to keep his word, and he wouldn’t so carelessly hurt your daughter. There isn’t a single person alive who doesn’t know your devotion to her—the havoc you’d wreak if anything happened to her.” He leaned closer. “So we beg you. Make the choice.”

After that he got up from his chair, gave the king a small nod, and just walked off: I didn’t know you could do that. Nobles have more power than I thought. 

The rest of the members rose from their chairs, all muttering to themselves as they filed out of the room. Leaving Lionel there in his hushed gloom. He didn’t waste a breath on them, instead he let his eyes wander. Eventually they caught mine, and he stared for a moment. 

“Winslet,” he said.

I ditched my broom against the pillar and sped to his side, tempering my steps into something servant-like.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” 

All he did was look at me as I stood there. Hearing, watching, as the last straggle of advisors made their way out. 

“I’m having tea with my daughter in the garden. Get a pot ready and serve it to us.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” 

I gave a light bow and ducked into the sunlit halls, hastening toward the kitchen. Where warm scents of hash and stew plunged out of its doors. Along with bulldozing servants who rushed to get their meals cooked and served. Their clothes were covered in stains of all colors, yet the plates they carried were delicately arranged. 

The kitchen itself was tall, overheated, and frankly a weathered part of the castle. And despite the cramped fit, I managed to find an open fire beside Penelope. A friend, and servant, who worked on the opposing side of the castle. Though she was more than often caught sneaking over to hear the latest gossip. 

“Do you ever think about what you’d do if you were royal?” She asked, pouring water into a line of cauldrons waiting to be put on a fire. Her ginger hair rolled into a tight bun. 

“No.” 

“I’d ban early mornings, order some silk dresses, and….have a winery dedicated to me.” 

“You’d still have a job serving people. Just different ones.” 

“Well, I think the people would be happy with my additions.”

I smiled, grabbing a kettle from the shelf. “Like your last idea of, what was it? The festival of honey?”  

“That idea is a work in progress. Besides, it's better than the two holidays we have now.”

“Well, before this whole Wulfric issue, I think Collins proposed another one.” I lifted the kettle over the flame, letting it rest on the hook. “Something about a harvest or other.” 

Penelope sighed. “Scratch what I said before. If I was royal, I’d decree him my husband.”
“That’s not how that works.” 

I grabbed a wooden board holding a pre-arranged tea set and stuffed the pot full with a floral mix. Then as the kettle whistled I snatched it off the fire and poured it in, watching as the water turned a light red. 

“Don’t forget the pastries,” Penelope said, putting a plate of them onto the board. “She gets snippy without them.” 

“Thanks. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

She nodded. “Unless I run into some nobleman who comes and sweeps me off my feet.” 

“For the good of everyone, I hope not.” 

I picked up the board and headed into the structured stone halls of the castle. Where the emerald carpets stretched far and golden ornaments decorated every surface. Its sweet harmony of elegance lingered around every portrait and hall. The garden door however, complimented nothing. It was a rickety thing made for the servants to enter through so as not to disturb the princess. 

The gardeners spent more time here than at home tending to her flowers, but far be it from me how she wants to help her father rule. I groaned along with the door as it opened. Feeling a breath of humidity crossed over my face as I stepped onto the muddy paths of the garden. 

King Lionel wasn’t far, he sat with his daughter at a quaint table, enjoying the shade of an apple tree leaning above them. Sitting silently, staring off together. As I got closer however, I realized it wasn’t an enjoyable silence together, but rather a quiet punishment from the princess. Her face was sour, but her posture was worse. Every fiber of her seemed repelled by his presence. 

“Just do your job and leave,” I whispered. “No need to get mixed in.” 

I tried to soften my steps as I approached, only to be foiled by the mud and gravel beneath me. Fortunately, they didn’t even gaze my way as I set the tea between them. With a light clank, I poured them each their tea. Yet as I set the second cup down I felt a stare from the side. The king, he was studying my face. From every curve of my brow to the height of my head. His expression was like biting into a piece of fruit you expected to be sweet, only to find it spoiled and sour. Then he muttered. Something so light not even a bug could hear it. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You will go.”

“Whatever you need, I’ll fetch it right away.”

“Vivian, she shall go in your place.”

My stomach dropped. “Your Grace, I must’ve heard you wrong. Where do you want me to go?”

“To Wulfric. You will pose as my daughter.”

“What?” The Princess snapped her head around. “Father, it’s an insult to suggest such a thing. You’re comparing me to this woman?” She asked, eyeing me with disgust.

I wanted every being in existence to challenge the king’s idea. To shout “NO!” from the rooftops. But more so I wanted someone to pour a bucket of mud over Vivian’s head. That said, I had to take whatever I could get.

“Her Highness is right. I share little resemblance to her beauty.” 

“Yes, father. Her hair waves far too much, and it’s considerably too bright—bland.”

I took a deep breath. “I also believe King Pembroke has seen many portraits of the princess. He’d be sure to spot the difference within minutes.” 

“Not to mention her upbringing. I doubt she lacks the proper etiquette. She might tarnish my reputation just by how she stands.” 

The king nodded along to every tongue biting point, but the way his hand curled in thought worried me. I wouldn’t survive getting through the door. Let alone make it through a season. 

“I know you’re worried.” Lionel grabbed his daughter’s hand. “This is the only way I can save you. Please don’t fight me on this.” 

The princess tilted her head upward. “Fine, but she can’t go wearing anything of mine.” 

What? No, no, not fine! 

“Your Grace, I fear this would only cause further division between the kingdoms if King Pembroke were to find out. I beg you to reconsider.” 

His shoulders tensed. His tired gaze broken, replaced with a stern glare as he said, “The Princess’ life isn’t even comparable to yours. You will do as I command you and not another word.”

With two sentences I felt the air leave my lungs, and despite all the strength I had, my knees buckled beneath me. Hitting the rocky ground, I barely got out, “Yes, Your Highness.”