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Uther’s nod is barely visible in the darkened hallway. “You’ll be staying here tonight, and the king and queen will receive you at breakfast.”
“I’d love to get this over with,” I tell him.
Uther’s tone takes on a tone of understanding. “And I’m sure the king would be very understanding of that if I woke him at this hour. However we do things according to tradition, and tradition dictates that the king and queen receive guests first thing in the morning. I’ll show you to your rooms.”
My arm goes around Josephine’s shoulders. “Only one room is necessary.”
“It is not my rule, but it is customary for unmarried people to stay in single rooms.”
“We’re married,” Jo corrects him, rather proudly.
My chest expands. I never tire of hearing her pronounce that.
“Very well,” Uther says. “Your room, then.”
The corridors are adorned with intricate tapestries and chandeliers that glow in the dimly lit space. It’s not as cold and museum-like as I expected. We pass by tall, curtained windows carefully accented with luxurious chairs, tables, and Persian rugs laid out as welcoming conversation nooks. I peer into rooms filled with books and tasteful furniture. In the room that Jo and I are assigned, a cozy fire crackles in a massive fireplace. The fire illuminates the warm wood of built-in wooden bookcases that surround the fireplace on all sides, its mantle adorned with dozens of photographs of the Haart siblings and cousins and beloved pets. The lush draperies have already been closed for us and the bed turned down.
Something strange stirs in my stomach as Uther bids us farewell, assuring us that Rolf will send up a plate for us. It’s a bittersweet feeling pushing at my sternum, threatening to climb up my throat.
“Look at this tub!” Jo shouts when she flicks on the bathroom light.
Jo is having a moment of glee as she takes in her surroundings, and why shouldn’t she?
“Want to join me? This tub is big enough for three people!”
“Enjoy yourself, my love. I’m going to read for a bit.”
“Suit yourself.”
But I do not read. I sink into a chair by the fire and try to identify this terrible feeling pushing down on me. The water rushes into the bathtub in the adjoining room, and I smile at Jo’s off-key singing as she sinks into it. The faucet squeaks, and there is a small splash, followed by the sound of her contented sigh. The scent of rose and lavender emanates through the open doorway. “Say what you want about the stuffy old royals, but this is incredible.”
Imagine having one’s own private bathroom. My thoughts roll around in my head like pinballs, recalling how in the group home, I would take cold showers or go without. Better that than fist-fighting my foster brothers in order to gain position in the pecking order to go first.
“Oh my gods, there’s a gift basket in here with this body scrub from France. It’s like a hundred euros per tub, and they’re giving it away!”
I grunt in acknowledgement. A soft knock sounds at the door. I answer it, and a kind-faced older gentleman enters, pushing a cart of food laden with domed plates, teapots, and tiered trays of little treats. “What’s all this?”
The man leaves the cart at the sitting area by the fire, then turns to me.
“Refreshments, per the royal guard.” His congenial smile falters when he meets my eyes. “My goodness.”
I take a step backward from his assessing gaze. “What is it?”
“You look…my goodness…apologies, sir. For a moment, I thought I was looking at His Highness Prince Sigurd.”
The strange stirring in my chest transforms into a racing heart. He seems like a kind man, but I’ve dealt with people commenting on my resemblance to the princes my entire life. The king is not exactly my favorite person, and it makes me anxious.
I rub my beard and play this off with a grin. “One key difference. I keep my beard shaved much closer.”
The man called Rolf chuckles. “That you do. Well, except for today. The prince is getting married tomorrow afternoon, and his lovely bride insisted he clean up a bit.”
I take a step back. “Married? Prince Sigurd has been found?”
“Why, yes,” Rolf replies. “In Mirror Lake, in fact, just a few weeks ago.”
My stomach turns over. “That can’t be.”
Rolf cocks his head. “Did Uther not tell you why you’re here?”
