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The queen smiled at her in a way that put Charlotte at ease. At least, for a moment.
“I think those can be hung in the parlors where refreshments will be served,” the queen said. “Could you take them there directly? I believe Marta is in charge of decorating those rooms.”
Marta was the palace housekeeper. The refreshment parlors were at the other end of the palace. The queen had more or less just sent her on an errand that would take her far away from the ballroom and from Petrus while simultaneously commanding Lady Jenny to engage in an activity that could throw her and Petrus together.
Charlotte did her very best not to put too much interpretation on things. “Yes, your majesty,” she said, curtsying slightly, then turning to take the bows where they were needed.
As soon as she left the ballroom, her cheery smile dropped into a frown. She should not let her imagination run away with her. The queen’s instructions were simply that, instructions to help with a long-held family tradition to prepare for a ball that would entertain everyone in the city on the morrow. She was not being sent away or snubbed or otherwise told she was inferior.
It was just that she adored Petrus and wanted to marry him so desperately that the fear of something swooping in and ruining that was strong.
Those thoughts were still burning within her as she cut across the hallway where most of the family’s private rooms were located, only to run into Prince Oskar marching in the other direction. She wouldn’t have given the dour expression on the prince’s face much thought or done more than nod to him, but of all things, the prince appeared to have been crying.
But no, that was impossible. Oskar was the crown prince, the heir to the throne. He was a strong and stalwart man, and he had nothing to cry about.
“Your royal highness, is everything alright?” Charlotte paused to ask as they crossed paths.
Prince Oskar froze as though Charlotte had thrown ice water on him. He turned to blink at her.
“Nothing is wrong,” he said, though his voice was tight. “Why would you assume anything was wrong?”
“I am sorry, your royal highness,” Charlotte said with a slight curtsy. “It is just that you seem a bit upset.”
Charlotte bit her lip, wondering how much she dared to confront a future king. Because Oskar didn’t move to run away or dismiss her, she took a step closer to him.
“I know I am only an Englishwoman and far beneath the entire royal family, but I do care about your happiness and the happiness of your entire family,” she said softly, managing a nice smile for him. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been slightly off of late, and I do apologize if I’ve had anything to do with that.” She swallowed quickly, then added, “I apologize if my…friendship with your cousin has caused a disturbance in the course of the royal family's plans.”
Oskar stared hard at her, then blinked. All at once, he let out his breath, and his entire countenance changed.
“It is not that, Miss Sloane,” he said, managing a weak smile for her. “Your presence is not what has caused the trouble. No, indeed, I have found you to be sweet and charming, and I know my cousin adores you.” He paused briefly, then sighed and rubbed his forehead. “That is the problem.”
Charlotte frowned, not entirely certain what he meant by that. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
Oskar dropped his hands and shrugged. The gesture made him look much younger than he was. “I do not know,” he said, then suddenly looked as if he might weep. “I simply do not know.”
With that, he turned and marched off in a hurry.
Charlotte stared at his retreating back, even more flummoxed than she’d been before. She tried to make sense of the conversation, but none of the pieces fit. Granted, she had theories, but the evidence, so far, wasn’t supporting them. So she continued on, searching out the parlor where Marta was waiting for the bows.
Her path took her directly past the library, and as she glanced into the room, not thinking much of it, she froze at the sight of King Milas hanging the hideous boot ornament on the tree.
It was a moment she couldn’t resist.
“I’ve caught you!” she announced as she rushed into the room. “I’ve caught you in the act!”
King Milas started so violently that he nearly dropped the ornament. He fumbled it, his eyes wide, before hanging it on a bough. Then he faced Charlotte for a moment, his mouth working as though he would come up with some excuse for being where he was.
The moment was enough to make Charlotte laugh despite herself. A king was fidgeting before her as if he were a boy who had been caught stealing pies.
At last, the king blew out a breath, and his body sagged. “You have, indeed, caught me, Miss Sloane.” He even laughed a bit and rubbed his forehead with the admission.
Charlotte’s heart raced as she walked closer to him. She could find a way to use the situation, to use the forfeit she was due, to resolve the situation they were all in. But it would in no way be as simple as telling the king he must allow Petrus to marry her as his forfeit. That would result in Lady Jenny’s banishment. She couldn’t demand that the king keep Lady Jenny in Aegiria either. That was not his decision, that was Lord Lindstrom’s.
But perhaps there was a way to start the gears turning in the machine that would resolve everything.
“I am at your service, Miss Sloane,” the king said with a regal bow. “What forfeit would you have of me.”
An idea blinked into Charlotte’s mind. “I would like you to tell me a story, your majesty,” she said, walking to one of the room’s couches. She sat, putting the basket of bows on the floor beside her, then patted the other side of the couch as an indication the king should join her.
