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“I have taken the liberty of creating your schedule.”
Claudette places a hand over her heart. “Awww.”
“Oh joy,” I deadpan as I try to make sense of the kind of schedule a military commander would craft for me. My span is filled with activities and rigorous studies of law and order. There’s no allotted rest or anything I find fun. Not that I think running a Court should be fun, but I also don’t think I should run a Court at all.
“Your excitement is duly noted,” he answers in the same tone I used. “Once you’ve dressed and dined, meet me at the training grounds.” He bows again. “Until then, Your Majesty.”
D’Artaron leaves as abruptly as he came, and the females descend upon me the moment the door closes. Claudette is trying to hush everyone while they’re all asking a million questions about me and D’Artaron.
I have no answers. Not ones worthy of gossip anyway, and if the rumors of D’Artaron being with me surface, it will be that much more devastating for the people when he returns to his duty in the Summer Court. D’Artaron is the most loyal of males, and his loyalty lies entirely with the Summer king.
Breakfast rolls in on a cart pushed by nobody, and I sit back in bed and wait for the tray to lift off the cart and position itself in front of me. Once it does, I open the cover. A steaming-hot omelet. I cut down the middle and peek between the egg folds.
“White cream cheese and bacon bits?” Claudette asks.
“How did he know?” My mouth waters at my favorite omelet.
“D’Artaron debriefed me about you. It was quite intense.”
Jealousy rears her ugly head. “How intense?”
Claudette changes the subject. “Can I see the schedule?” She extends her hand.
Feeling bad that I’m jealous of my sister, who’s had nothing to do with D’Artaron for many decades, I hand over the paper. Their relationship or whatever they had ended long before my birth. Even if she likes him, he likes me, so I should feel secure in that.
D’Artaron doesn’t lie. He doesn’t play around. He would never lead me astray or say things he doesn’t mean. All of which makes him irresistible.
Claudette takes the schedule and unrolls it. Her eyes widen.
“How bad is it?” I ask, mouth full of food. I sip my apple juice while Claudette reads. She rolls it back into place and even seals it with candle wax. She hands it back to me. “It is…nice, actually.”
“Ooookay. That’s not what I expected.”
“Me either. Can you all give us a moment? Just outside would be fine. We won’t be long.”
I sip tea. “I doubt the schedule leaves any room for breaks or idle chatter, even between sisters.”
The females leave us.
“Do you know what’s on that schedule?”
“Death by routine?” I eat a few more bites. “This is an excellent omelet. Who made it?”
“Likely D’Artaron.”
I almost choke. “He wouldn’t.”
“He would if he’s following orders. Did the Summer king order him to take care of you?”
I dab my mouth. “I believe so, yes.”
“What other orders is he executing in the Spring Court?”
“Put me on the throne. Stabilize the court. That kind of stuff.”
“What about you?”
“Um, he will make sure I’m on the throne.”
