Page 39 of A Cake of Cherries and Charm

As she spoke, though, she couldn’t help wondering why he seemed to care so much. He’d known her for less than a month. And while, yes, in her own village, she’d been viewed as rather accomplished and notably pretty, she couldn’t compete with the private tutoring or high fashion training many women of the court received–as Lady Sandra had so delicately pointed out. She couldn’t speak other languages, nor had she training in politics beyond what Natalie had given her. She could hardly attend a palace supper without stirring the pots of gossip and malice. She was too honest, as her sister liked to tease her, and she had neither breeding nor polish.

“How much more do you need?” he asked in a thick voice, nodding down to the basket.

Rosie realized now that the basket was over half full.

“This will be quite enough,” she said, forcing a smile. “Shall we return?”

They turned and began walking slowly back toward the castle, each lost in his or her own thoughts.

Perhaps, she told herself, he was upset because he was a man, and good men, in her experience, didn’t like wrongs to go unrighted. From what she had witnessed of him, he was a just man, and it was indeed unjust for anyone to be chased away from one’s family simply for existing.

But could it… Might it possibly be something more?

“You asked me about my preferences in a husband,” she said, trying to make her voice sound light and teasing as they left the orchards and made their way through the garden. “Do you have any preferences for any of the girls your parents might choose?”

“It doesn’t really matter,” he said, his voice suddenly filled with a surprising amount of venom. “My parents will choose the one they prefer either way.”

She glanced up at his face, but he was glowering at the ground.

Was it possible that he was wishing Rosie could be one of their choices? In a way, she hoped it was. But if she was right, it would only mean pain for both of them, and she didn’t wish this good man any more pain.

Perhaps, she thought as they made their way to the kitchens, it would be better if they both stayed quiet.

Chapter

Seventeen

For the rest of the day, Rosie wandered the palace, thinking about all that had and hadn’t been said.

She hadn’t planned to tell the prince that she was leaving. But the distance between them as he’d held her basket had become unbearably short. He’d been so close that she could have reached out and touched him.

And she had.

Even that small gesture–touching his arm–had suddenly been far too little. She had wanted more. More of him. More of his steadiness and his sense of right and wrong. She hadn’t realized until that moment just how much she wanted someone else to shoulder the burdens she’d carried for her mother and sister for so long.

So she had told him the truth. And as she’d expected it might, it had driven him away. It was evening now, and she hadn’t seen him since their walk in the orchard. He’d missed both the palace luncheon and supper–events she’d attended in her suddenly desperate hopes of seeing him again.

Only after she had left him did Rosie realize that she’d told the prince something she hadn’t even told Snow. She cringed now as she considered this. If Snow found out about it from someone else, Rosie was going to get a tongue lashing like never before.

But Rosie couldn’t get herself to regret telling him. For one brief moment, he had been the place of solace that her father had once been. He had become her hiding place. And for the briefest of moments, she imagined herself in his arms again, the same way he’d carried her after she’d been unable to walk. His chest had been solid and safe, and, unable to do anything else for the pain, she’d forced herself to lean against him as he carried her.

How she wished to be carried again. But she wouldn’t be carried by him again, she severely chastised herself. She couldn’t. So it was better not to wish at all. And the sooner she was gone, the sooner she might stop wishing for him to appear around every corner… and feeling disappointed when he did not.

She might have awakened to similar thoughts the next morning, had she not awakened to find an unwelcome visitor standing beside her bed. Rosie let out a shriek of surprise as she found a now-familiar green face staring at hers.

“What are you doing in my room?” she demanded as soon as she had the sense to speak. “I’ve covered it with yellowbelles!”

Indeed, she had. Not only had the prince helped her pick armfuls of the little flowers from the forest after the troll’s appearance, but he had also helped her dig up several plants that could be brought back to the castle and transplanted into pots and gardens.

“I know.” The troll grimaced. “And it stinks the place up, too! No, I won’t be here long.” Then she let out a nasty grin. “I just wanted to let you know that you’ll be needing to pick more cherries. The ones you left in the kitchen last night are no longer… usable for their intended purpose.” Then she let out a little giggle and disappeared with her usual sparks and lightning.

Rosie groaned as she hurried to dress. As soon as she was decent, she ran out of her room and waved down the first servant she could find.

“The troll was back,” she said breathlessly. “Call the guards and tell one of the princes!”

Minutes later, there were half a dozen guards in her room, searching for any sign of the troll, but Rosie knew she was gone. Unfortunately, the earsplitting shriek from the direction of the kitchens was enough to let her know that the troll really had been up to no good. And when Rosie arrived there, she did so to find that every single one of her cherries from the day before had been turned into a little cherry-colored frog. And every little frog was hopping happily around the kitchen as the staff stumbled around, trying to catch them.

“You!” Madame Nadine thundered when she caught sight of Rosie. “I have a note for you!”