Page 13 of Fit for a King

Actually, if I could just rewind to the moment I’d first arrived at the palace, that would be even better. It had been nothing but a series of mistakes since I got here.

I was good at my job. No—I was great. That was the whole reason I’d been sent to the palace. I always played my part perfectly, always followed directions, never entered the wrong room, never got charmed by princes pretending to be kings, and definitely never casually chatted with the real king like we were friends catching up over tea.

Groaning, I braced a hand on the wall and tried to get my bearings.

This was just great. A spectacular start to my royal service.

“Are you feeling okay, or did Mrs. Stuart finally hit you with something?”

I lifted my head to see Violet several feet away, a feather duster in her hand and curiosity written all over her face.

“I’m considering fleeing the country,” I said.

“Oh, good. Nothing serious, then.” She grinned, but at the sound of her name being called from somewhere down the hall, it dropped and she nodded toward a narrow alcove behind me. “Come on. You’ve got about three minutes before Mrs. Hutcheon sends out a search party.”

I followed her into the alcove, which was barely large enough for the two of us, and she turned to me, her eyes bright.

“Well?” she said.

“Are you offering to help me escape?”

“First I need to know why you want to run away, and why you look so pale after leaving His Majesty’s chambers. What happened?”

“What didn’t happen?”

“Oh, even better.”

“It’s not better, trust me.”

“Maybe not for you, but for me it is.” Her teasing smile grew, but at the sound of footsteps nearby, she carefully peeked out into the hallway. “Okay, hurry and tell me.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “He asked me a question and I gave a completely wrong answer.”

“Okay.”

I opened my eyes and pinned them on her. “Oh, I’m not done. I asked him how he was⁠—”

She gave a soft gasp. “Nooo, you should never ask His Majesty how he is.”

“Well, someone should.”

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and Violet’s expression softened a bit.

“Oh dear. You’re going to be a problem.”

I scoffed. “I’m aware. His Majesty made that clear.”

“What did he say?”

“That I was, and I quote, ‘hired to be helpful, not polite.’”

Violet winced. “That does sound like him.”

“And then I complimented his tie.” She didn’t have to say anything—the thin white line of her lips pressed together told me what she thought about that. “And then when he asked me a question about my last household, I mentioned already telling him the other night, and that was the big mistake.”

Her amused smile vanished. “Oh.”

“What do you mean, oh? Do you know something you’re not telling me? Maybe about the interview with the man I thought was the king but was apparently not the king?”