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“Yes, I think she does.” Ainsley’s surprise settled into a radiant smile, and Archie’s head spun. He shouldn’t be doing this—talking to royalty. It just wasn’t his place, and the princess’s guards were already glaring at him. He was sure of it.
“Excuse me,” he said, grabbing the cat around the middle and retreating into the kitchen where he belonged.
Chapter 7
The Cat’s Paw
Archie braced himself against the kitchen door, trying to breathe. “No, no, no. What did I do?”
“Mew?” At the noise, Archie released the squirming tabby cat, and something on the floor drew his gaze. A torn page of parchment was under the cat’s paw.
The written lines he had just recited to the princess were on full display.
“You-you stole the page from the book. You wanted that to happen!”
The cat blinked in a way that made Archie feel small, even though he had outgrown both his elder brothers. But his extra size and all the physical prowess in the world couldn’t help him now. Archie grabbed at his hair. “No, that was the princess. I’m going to get in so much trouble.”
Leo huffed and flicked the top tip of his tail, as if to say Archie was being ridiculous. Wasn’t this what he had wanted? To be noticed by a beautiful, sought-after girl and have his fortune changed?
But Archie would never have thought to ask for something like this! He couldn’t talk to the princess; he certainly couldn’t like her. She was the princess. She was . . . special. Sure, he always thought she was beautiful and more than a little intriguing. Sometimes, when he listened to her read the stories of his childhood, it seemed they might share the same soul, but that was a passing fancy. Another faerie story. He never thought he could actually reach her. Like a pretty piece of poetry or an oil canvas mounted on the wall, her matchless beauty was meant to be admired by everyone.
And if she were to share a stage with anyone, shouldn’t she have a prince?
But there hadn’t been any prince. Not today. There was just a slew of children and guards who seemed oblivious to the girl’s distress. And Archie had charged in like he thought he was a knight in a storybook. What had he gotten himself into?
Leo yowled and pawed at the crumpled paper again.
What was Archie supposed to do with that?
Then the door opened behind him, and there was the princess in all her royal glory. “Boy? Why did you run off like that? I wanted to speak to you. How did you come to memorize all that?”
Archie scrambled behind the counter and swallowed several times, frozen again. Bowing again. Princess Ainsley was talking to him, and that meant he had to answer her, right? Or would it be better to flee to one of the other Borderland Kingdoms past the faerie’s forest and never look back? “It’s Anderdolf the Dwarf,” he said, as the character was also the name of the play. “I suppose I understand him.” The dwarf was all Archie could think of right now.
“Do you?” the princess said, the words soft. “Sophie said you were one of the miller’s sons, that you bring the flour to make them bread every week. I eat some of that bread when I take lunch with the children, but I’m still not sure I believe it. I’ve never seen you here before.”
Archie gaped, feeling utterly foolish. She ate his bread? She wanted to see him?
What in the blessed Light of the Fates was going on?
“What is your name?” the princess asked.
His name? Archie couldn’t think of it for a moment. The cat was still pawing the scrap of paper from Anderdolf the Dwarf pointedly, and Archie had a revelation. Or maybe his mind had finally cracked under the pressure. The princess didn’t believe he could be a miller’s son. He could take a page from Anderdolf’s book—both literally and figuratively—say he was anyone he wanted to be, but it just didn’t feel right.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Archie said, feeling he must be disappointing the cat, the princess, and everyone in Castletown greatly. Like a stage actor who couldn’t play his role correctly. “I wish I could say I was some dashing lord out of a storybook, but Sophie was right; I’m only one of the miller’s sons. Archie. I know I shouldn’t have said anything—”
“Why shouldn’t you? You seem to know the play better than I do.” The girl laughed at her own foolishness, and it was a beautiful sound. But then, even the mournful sigh that followed the laughter seemed breathtakingly beautiful. “My mother used to love all those old stories. And when she died, I guess I just wanted to do something to keep her spirit alive all these years.” Her hands went to her hair, like the tight and elegant knot was some kind of prison that had her ensnared. “Though sometimes it can be exhausting trying to be her all the time, you know?”
“I can imagine.”
“Truly?”
Archie nodded as the words came more easily. “Well, everyone thinks they know who I should be as well.” They thought of his father and assumed he should be a simple plow horse, or they saw his muscles and thought he should be something of a brute.
They never saw the true depths of his soul.
Ainsley smiled. “But you’re showing them they’re wrong, aren’t you? You’re not just a miller’s son. You can quote Anderdolf and your clothes . . . Are you a huntsman?”
“I’m trying to be.” Archie looked back at the cat. That might be the only lie he was telling, but it still felt like a big one. He just felt trapped inside it, especially as the girl’s smile widened.
