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I had seen the curse at work this way before. No matter how weary my guests were, they always woke after arriving.
Exhaustion lined her face, pulling her mouth down and watering her eyes. She blinked up at me in confusion.
“Your Majesty?”
“Who beat your feet?”
“Oh no!” She sat up quickly, attempting to hide her feet beneath the skirts of her simple gown, only to pause and hold her head instead.
I steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. “Are you well?”
She let out a harsh breath, almost a laugh, but without humor. “I told my maid to leave my slippers on when I went to bed, but it appears she didn’t listen.” She opened her eyes halfway and met my concerned gaze. “Just give me a moment. My head is swimming.”
“What happened to your feet? Something bruised them black and blue.”
“I stood on them too much.” She massaged her temples. “Between the coronation, the banquet, the grand ball, and the roaming last night, I have been on my feet constantly for two days.” She closed her eyes again. “Is it safe to eat the food? Or is it cursed too?”
I glanced over at the dancing and chattering women just on the other side of the bushes. Food and drink had been served only a few minutes ago. But as simple as it would be to guide her over there, I instinctively knew she wouldn’t wish me to. She needed rest and quiet with a nourishing meal, not the lavish dishes prepared for the others. Decision made, I picked her up.
She squeaked in surprise, grabbing at my shoulders. “What are you doing?” she demanded in a hissed whisper.
As I looked down into her wide dark eyes and savored the closeness of her slight weight in my arms, something soft and warm unfolded in my chest. “Close your eyes. I am taking you to where you can eat and rest.”
I stepped into the shadows between the roots of the trees and wraithwalked to my favorite place in the garden. With each step, I grew more acutely aware of the erratic flutter of her heart rate.
“Might I bring back the healer with me?” I asked as we emerged beneath the canopy of the only willow tree on the estate. My couch, a low bench covered in cushions, stood between the trunk and the towering hedges of the maze.
“Please, no,” she protested as I deposited her on the cushions. Her pale skin drained to white. The dusting of freckles across her nose stood out starkly.
“I will return with food and drink then.” I bowed deeply and backed into the shadow world.
I stepped into the kitchen to be greeted by a great cacophony of crashing dishes. The chef waved his arms like a madman, ordering cooks every which direction. His hands flew as he used our improvised sign language developed to communicate after the curse struck. Spotting me, he stopped midsentence and bowed.
“Apologies, my king,” the cook signed. His flushed countenance was such a sharp contrast to his usual reserve. I wondered at the change.
“What is wrong?” I asked aloud.
He blew out his cheeks before swiftly signing, “The twins contaminated the milk and broke all the piecrusts we set out to cool. My menu is ruined.”
“What was to go inside the crusts?”
“A heavenly meringue with orange zest and cooled whipped cream.”
“Might that still work without the crusts, or perhaps with the crust bits sprinkled on top?”
His eyes lit up only for him to deflate again a moment later. “Ah, but the cream is ruined,” he signed.
“Might we send out for more?”
He shook his head. “I will try, but I suspect it is futile.”
“You won’t know until you try,” I pointed out.
He pressed his lips together as he nodded. “How may I serve you, my king?”
“I have a special request. One of our guests requires a simpler fare than you have prepared for this evening. Might I beg a bowl of the stew you made at midday and a few rolls?”
“Oh, of course!” The chef gave the orders with a few flicks of his fingers. His underlings jumped to comply. “Anything else?”
