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Michaela
Dahlia picked out a simple outfit, jeans and a woolen sweater that matched my eyes. After a small argument about whether or not I could wear a ponytail inside the palace walls, apparently a travesty in her eyes, I negotiated her down to an intricate braid. I still did my makeup since she had a thing about blue eyeshadow, but we’d made some good strides in our working relationship.
“You missed breakfast,” Dahlia scoffed. “Everyone noticed.” She recovered from her snarky lapse quickly. “But breakfast is laid out in the dining hall if you’re hungry.”
“Thanks.” I pulled on a pair of thick socks and then my furry boots. “I was thinking about going for a walk in the gardens.”
“Is that where you were this morning?”
“What?”
“When I came in,” Dahlia motioned to my bed, clearly made and unused, “you’d already tidied up, but you weren’t here. I thought maybe you went for a walk.” Three wrinkles appeared between her eyebrows. “But you were still in your nightclothes when I arrived to help you dress…”
“Uh, yeah…” I needed an answer and an alibi. “I sleepwalk pretty bad. I woke up halfway across the grounds. Really weird.”
Her eyes widened. “In your nightclothes? Wandering about where any man could see you?”
“Uh, I guess so.” That was the last thing on my mind when it came to wild sleepwalking patterns. I mean, how about walking into traffic, accidentally driving, or sleep eating? I’d heard horror stories about people waking up in a pile of food with a stomachache. Having some guy see me in my thick flannel PJs was hardly an emergency.
“Never fear, milady. I shall keep guard or lock you in so you can’t escape.”
That seemed right on par for my life… a lady’s maid and a warden… two things I really didn’t need but got anyway.
“Always a pleasure, Dahlia.” I saluted and left before she got a chance to tell me she wasn’t a sea captain. I started toward the gardens, but all this talk of food left my stomach in full mouthy rebellion. Besides, I needed some directions and hoped that either the other women or my lurking bodyguard would be willing to help a girl out. I switched directions and took the stairwell that landed outside the dining hall.
Everything with Fitz had left me in a great mood. Last night had felt like the good ol’ days. Talking, laughing, confiding in each other. I had to admit a few things felt different. Not bad, but… new? I didn’t know how to explain it, so I chalked it up to getting used to each other again.
I came up on the edge of the doorway, but my feet stuttered as I heard a voice.
“Molly told my lady’s maid, Hilda, that the prince had a girl in his room this morning.” I didn’t recognize her voice. “Or at least a pile of blankets shaped like a girl.”
Someone groaned. “It had to be Gwen. The question is, did he send for her, or did she invite herself?”
I recognized Esmerey’s snotty tone as she piped in, “Could have been the American. She wasn’t at breakfast. In fact, I haven’t seen Michaela yet today.” She paused before she asked, “Sadie, did you see her leave her room last night?
No,” Sadie’s soft voice barely rose above a whisper, “and I would have heard her footsteps in the hall. It echoes.”
“So it had to have been Gwen.” The original voice had to belong to Chantal. “I bet it was her idea. That’s not like him.
“You’d know.”
“Hey now, put your claws away, Esme,” Chantal teased. “At least I’m not stealing off in the night to seduce him.”
Panic rose in my chest, making me feel like I was about to choke on my own tongue. No wonder Fitz didn’t want anyone to know. They all assumed the worst. No one was seducing anyone. I was checking on my friend, but even if I told them that, they would never believe me.
I abandoned the idea of food, knowing the second I walked in the room my face would give me away. Maybe the gardens would have a carrot or an edible rose or something. Maybe I could fill up on snow. Anything to escape the venomous gossip that waited in the dining hall.
I took the first right, assuming it would lead to the back gates, but it became a multitude of twisted corridors and as many times as I tried to correct, I only became more lost.
“Do you have a pass for this hall? I’m not sure you’ve got clearance.” His voice startled me and I spun around as if I was ready for an attack. Bishop cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed. He perched on the edge of a table that lined the wall. In my confused state, I’d mistaken him for a statue and had nearly passed right by him.
Reaching for my hand, Bishop counted off the charms. “Sorry, you need a porcelain fox charm to be in this section of the palace. I’m afraid I’ll have to escort you to dinner tonight, as punishment.”
I rolled my eyes and stole my hand back. “I got turned around. Do you know where the garden entrance is?”
“You’re nowhere near it. All screwy.” Bishop hopped off the table he’d perched on. “Come on, Hopeless. I’ll show you.”
I stayed close enough to follow, but not so close that anyone would see us and suspect hanky-panky. Apparently, that was the first thing people assumed.
