“Make amends? My Lady, she scorned you, not the other way around. If anyone’s meant to be apologizing it’s her.”

I should’ve waited until after she straightened my hair to tell her. The warmth of the hot comb ran a little too close to my scalp. 

“There are rules to nobility, ways to attack and defend. I don’t regret what I did in the garden, but –“ I looked at Buckley’s reflection in the vanity mirror. “We can’t afford her as an enemy.” 

She frowned. “It’ll be dangerous to keep her as a friend, too.”

“We won’t be friends. I’ll simply put the matter to rest, and then keep my distance.”

“If she lets you.” 

“Listen, if I can become a foggy memory in the Well’s heads then we’ll be safe. I can play in the shadows and pretend I don’t exist for the rest of my time here.” 

….Then hopefully go home. 

Buckley pulled at my hair a little tighter as she sections pieces off. 

Buckley’s grip went loose, “My Lady..?”

“Yes?”

She said nothing.

“Is something wrong?” 

“It’s – has your hair always been black?” 

“What?” 

My heart stopped. I snapped forward, closer to the mirror; the faintest golden hair was growing in. It’d barely been a month and their cheap dye already needed a re-fresh. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, staring at her feet, “I was only wondering if it was the fashion in your kingdom…”

I sighed. Vivian’s hair is completely natural, and if people found out I dye mine – she’d have my head. In this case, however, I doubted Buckley would say anything. She’s a sweet kid, plus someone would have to help me dye my hair. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

She nodded. 

“My father worried I might be called illegitimate. Both my parents have black hair, it seemed unusual for mine to be so golden. They’ve been dyeing it ever since.” 

“Really? Well, I’m sure there’s plenty of other nobles who do the same. I promise not to tell anyone.” 

“I know you won’t.” 

She smiled. “I can find you a hat for today, and tomorrow go into town and buy you some new dye.”

“That would be perfect. Thank you, Buckley.” 

I left around mid–morning, and since Collins taught less about formal wear and more about surviving, I trusted Buckley to handle it. She chose a cotton white gown that left room for me to walk in. Over the dress, I wore a fitted sky-blue coat that was unfortunately decorated by Vivian’s favorite, ruffled sleeves. Worse yet thankfully, my matching hat was pinned tight enough for a headache, it wasn’t going anywhere.

We trekked the shadowed halls of the castle, past the tall windows, and into the quiet corridors. Passing the odd noble off to their study or servant carrying a late breakfast. I hoped to find Fabienne at her garden sanctuary, and if not there then her father’s study…

Finally getting the layout of the castle, I took the lead. Though my occasionally stuttered steps told Buckley when to whisper a quick direction. She followed in tow, carrying a basket of floral soaps, sweet fragrances, and pastries. I had little to no clue what Lady Wells liked, but I doubted you could go wrong there. 

“This is the right floor, is it not?” I asked Buckley, realizing I’d let my imagination drift a bit too long. 

“Yes, My Lady, if you–”

Turning the corner I collided into what felt like a man shaped rock. Immovable as I bounced off and stumbled over my own feet. Said rock reached out and grabbed my arms, steadying me as I saw their face – Wulfric. 

“Most people bow in my presence, but I suppose crashing into me is an Eastern greeting?” 

“Well I do apologize, Your Highness. I thought you were the wall, the way you stood there so stiffly.” 

“Then I’ll be sure to have a ringing bell on me next time.”

I avoided his gaze, and straightened out my dress; my face warmed by a flush of pink.

“Where are you off to so quickly, if I might ask?”

“I’m hoping to catch a word with Lady Fabienne.”

“Is that so?” He stood there, looking between me and the mid–morning sun. “You’ll have to postpone. She’s away with her father, business as usual. You should be glad for it. Happier for the fact that I’ve caught you.”

Something in his tone made me take a step back. “Why is that, Your Majesty?" 

“Evidently,” he said, glancing at the basket, “there’s something we must discuss. Follow me.” 

Wulfric started down the hall, but I looked back at Buckley, who gave a shrug before waving me on to follow him. 

He said nothing as he led us to a corner of the castle that Buckley avoided on our tour. Quiet with no echoing steps but ours. Its walls were lined by rows of portraits – shining knights – all labeled by their names and accomplishments. 

“In here,” Wulfric said, pulling a hall door open. 

He stepped inside and I followed. The room, I guessed his office, was littered with books and papers. Documents of all kinds, and half filled ink bottles everywhere. No dust, but my servant heart gave a twinge, begging me to fix it all up. 

“You're less organized than I thought you'd be. Don’t you have a servant to clean this all up?” 

“His Highness prefers it this way,” a man said, coming from somewhere. He stood so still my eyes barely caught him. “Ever since he was a boy–”

“Thank you, Wesley. Can you prepare some tea for our guest?”

“Right away, sir.” 

Wesley gave a bow to Wulfric, and a questionable look to me before ducking out of the room. 

“Please, sit,” Wulfric said, gesturing for me towards a small table, and Buckley a chair beside the window. She sat with speed and silence. 

“You were bringing a basket with you. Were going to apologize?”

“I was going to make amends,” I said, taking the seat opposite him. 

“Even though she hit your young servant and started those rumours about you?”

“I’m not here to make and keep enemies.” 

“The Wells’ status and connections alone should have you dreading whatever they might be concocting for you.”  

“That’s why I find it irresponsible to keep a distaste for each other.”

He sighed, leaning his elbow on the table. “If you think giving her a basket will keep them from attacking you, then you’re wrong. Deeply. They’ll stay in line, for now, because they’ll be watching you. Trying to figure out whether to make you useful or not a problem for them.”

The door creaked open and Wesley came in carrying tea. He poured us both a glass before setting the steaming pot down between us and taking his place in the back of the room. 

“It’d be wise to keep your distance,” Wulfric continued, pouring milk into his tea. “Make yourself look useless, harmless, and they’ll leave you alone.” 

“If I don’t make amends then she’ll keep targeting me, despite any effort I make to seem useless.” 

“If you go to her and apologize – make amends – then you’re admitting to have done something wrong. Fabienne would use that moment to her advantage. She’d spin a new tale worse than before with double the repercussions." 

I played with my teacups handle. Letting the polished glass warm my hand: He wasn’t wrong, but every choice had its risks. The question is, which one has the highest chance I’ll survive? Which one keeps Buckley safe in the process? 

“You saw the portraits on the wall outside. That’s what you need to be. Something in the corner of an eye that’s never looked too closely at. One that doesn’t feed conversations, but fades into the room.” 

“Collins has told me similar,” I said, sighing. 

“He’s a smart man – good man.” 

“Have you met him?"

Wulfric raised his teacup to his mouth. “He’s your father’s top advisor. I’ve met with him on several occasions. He seems the only competent man in your whole kingdom.” He paused. “Sorry, Your Highness, I find myself losing formality in your presence.” 

I smiled. “It is considered informal and not rude to call half my people stupid? I can’t imagine a casual setting – not to say you’re wrong though.” 

He laughed. “I see we both find ourselves on the blunter edge of the sword.” 

“I’d say I’m rather sharp.”

Wulfric was adamant we finish the tea before leaving. It went cold as our conversation moved from subject to topic. Never too personal, but he shared tales of his kingdom with the glow of a poet. Before I knew it, through the laughs and remarks, I forgot I was talking to a king.