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He ran up to his brother’s cart.
Harris’s eyebrows went up under his bangs. “Archie, where have you been? And where’d you get that getup?”
Heat rose on the back of Archie’s neck. It was one thing to wear the new outfit to play another role around strangers, like he was wearing a costume for a play.
But Harris knew the truth.
Archie had never worn anything that his two brothers hadn’t worn first, and they never started out so fine. And now that both his brothers were smaller than him—well, their cast-offs never quite fit, and Archie had stopped wearing their toe-pinching boots unless the snow was up to his knees. Not that there should be anything wrong with that. He was the youngest. A miller’s son. Getting the smallest, meanest portion was his proper place in life. So how could he explain why he was putting on airs and going against the proper order of things now?
“Well, you told me I should be learning a trade, so now I’m a huntsman. Or at least, I’m working to become one,” Archie said, though the defense still sounded weak.
His fancy of following after a magic cat would never have met his father’s approval, and his brothers weren’t much better.
But really, they had no call to complain. Archie might not be hiring himself out to the local farmers anymore, but he still tended their mother’s garden and saw to all the other domestic tasks, like the cooking and laundry. He was earning his keep well enough until Rupert officially found someone far prettier to marry and replace him with.
Either way, Archie didn’t want to have to answer any more questions, so he grabbed one of his brother’s sacks. “But I have some time now, if you need some help delivering the flour.”
Harris shook his head. “We’re only doing paying customers today. Rupert said. Even if the Ogre Marquis won’t let us bring it into Carabus, we can still try to sell it somewhere else.”
Archie scowled. “I can pay.” He wasn’t going to give up visiting the Charity House every week, no matter what his brothers said. But Archie had already emptied his pockets and knapsack for the king. “Or at least, I will be able to pay. I’ll give you and Rupert part of my kill in the morning.” Would Leo be all right with that plan? They had never had the time to discuss charitable giving, but the cat had already disappeared into the crowd.
Archie was quick to follow the cat’s example, turning away from the cart and ignoring any other protest from his elder brother.
He found his normal entrance to the matrons’ kitchen and set to work. He placed the flour by the counter and opened the inner door to let in the princess’s voice, as was his usual habit, when he stopped short. The princess was there in her usual spot—a beautiful young woman with thick curls held together in an elegant knot and a few freckles on her nose modestly contained by powder.
And seated around her was the usual mass of children.
But right in the middle of the crowd was a certain brown tabby cat.
“Leo? What are you doing there?” Archie tried to yell and whisper at the same time.
But the cat didn’t even twitch.
What should he do? They were going to be in so much trouble, and there didn’t seem to be any way to avoid it. Archie’s gaze slid over to the princess’s black and silver guards, subtly placed in the corners like shadows, and one of the more formidable matrons who stood mere steps away. If someone thought he had let the cat in to bother the princess, he might be thrown out. But if he made a scene trying to get the cat’s attention, he could make matters even worse. He could even spook one of the princess’s guards, and as excited as Archie had been to meet a knight at the castle, he didn’t want to feel the edges of their swords up close.
So he just stood there, caught in the door frame as the princess’s words rolled over him.
Princess Ainsley was reading a well-known play about a princess and a dwarf. The one where the noble dwarf was so deformed and ugly he had decided to woo the princess through a series of romantic letters where he used another man’s name, pretending he was as handsome as she was fair. The princess in the story had just discovered the truth, and Princess Ainsley played her part well. “Why have you sought to deceive me so? Did you not know that it wasn’t the height of your stature that won me over but the tenderness of your soul?”
The princess looked to the next page, but then she frowned. “Oh. The page is missing. I’m so sorry, children. That was the best part too.”
“So you don’t know what happens next?” asked a six-year-old in the front. Sophie.
“Well, I think I might. I just don’t know if I can do the line justice. Let me think.” Her cheeks reddened in sharp contrast to her porcelain skin. She searched through the pages as if looking for sudden inspiration, and Archie couldn’t help it.
He couldn’t leave the princess’s question unanswered.
“You saw me every day, Princess, and yet you never looked my way,” he said, the words flowing through him like they had a life of their own. “I was the one to hand you your cloak before it rained, the one to light a candle when you walked in darkness. The fool and servant of your court. I longed for you to see and accept me as I was, but under the cloak of the pen I had to remain.” He bowed his head at the end, like he thought the dwarf might, but as the lines from the play had run out, Archie had lost the will to perform. He bowed because he should bow.
Ainsley was the princess, and Archie shouldn’t have spoken at all.
The room was silent, compounding the tension in the air.
“Well, is he right?” asked Sophie.
The princess gave a quick and startled nod. “Yes. Yes, I think he is.”
Little Sophie beamed. “And what does the princess say? Does she forgive him and kiss him so they can all be happy forever?”
