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“What is it for?”
“Hope and peace,” she replied dryly.
“Did it help?”
My mother had cupped my face. “It led me to you, didn’t it, Zephy?”
Now, my fingertips trailed over the intricate outer casing of the compass as I carried on through the dreary halls of the palace, unsure of what I was doing. Direction was needed, but I was sure that my mother’s compass wasn’t going to give it to me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have gone out in the first place. It had probably been in my best interest to remain where Grisella had said, but rule-following had never been my best trait, and if I was going to be queen of this place, I’d better get to know it.
But simultaneously, I could not shake the mounting element of dread formulating in my gut as I ventured further from my suite, as if danger lurked around every corner, urging me back.
Don’t be dumb. I have nothing to worry about. I’m going to be the damn queen, no matter how much they try to scare me. No harm will come to me, and on the off chance I was faced with danger, I can take care of myself. I’ve been training since toddlerhood.
That was the mantra I led with as I continued my exploration through the massive walls, eager to learn about the ancient structure which was now my home.
The shock of it had not worn off yet. I had not fully come to terms with the idea that I would never again sleep in my warm, bright room in the manor house outside the city where the quacking ducks woke me with annoyance every morning.
Were there animals here? I couldn’t hear a thing beyond the thickness of the original stone walls, painted over with modern plaster.
“Miss, are you lost?” a baffled voice asked as I turned yet another corner. I undoubtedly was by this point, but when I stared up at the impossibly tall, cadaverous looking being in a servant’s uniform, I didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing the truth.
“I’m looking for the King,” I announced boldly.
The butler appeared ready to faint with my announcement.
“The King can’t just be… entered on,” he sputtered. “I could tell him that you’re looking for him.”
I rolled my eyes. I’d expected that kind of response. I really was not going to see him until the wedding, it seemed.
“Never mind,” I muttered. “Where’s the kitchen?”
He shifted his weight, apparently battling with my request.
“I could have something brought to you. Let me see you back to your room.”
“No,” I said firmly. “I’ll see myself to the kitchen. Just point me in the direction.”
Tangibly uncomfortable now, the pale butler looked over his shoulder as if begging for rescue, but when no one came to his aid, he held up a bony finger to point toward a staircase I hadn’t noticed before. “That will lead you directly to the main floor and into the kitchen.”
“Thank you,” I chirped, spinning to skip away, my long hair bouncing across the middle of my back.
I felt him watching me until I descended the stairs. But as I neared the bottom, I slowed my gait, my hand curled around the banister as I listened for sounds below. I was in no mood to defend my presence to more staff. To my relief, I heard very little noise below, and cautiously, I entered, peering around the corners to take in the sight of the oversized room with awe.
It was at least four times the size of the kitchen in our manor house, with four stoves and two fridges. The stainless-steel countertops were bare but for wooden bowls overflowing with fresh fruit, and I hurried toward one to snatch a grape from its stem and pop the green oval into my mouth, savoring the sweetness with half-closed eyes.
Sighing, I leaned back against the counter and reached for another, sliding myself onto the surface.
“Coraline will have a full-on meltdown if she sees you on her countertops like that—queen-to-be or not,” a familiar voice informed me flatly.
Gasping, I whipped my head toward the doorway, where Axel lounged cockily at the threshold. For a moment, I could only take in his arrogant handsomeness, my face flushing.
Quickly, I found my voice. “Who is Coraline?” I asked, again stunned at how my body reacted to the trainer’s nearness.
His presence infuriated and attracted me in unison, conflicting me in the strangest way.
“The head cook. She runs this kitchen like an armory. She won’t take kindly to you sneaking her food, either,” Axel informed me bluntly.
