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One fork was in the wrong place.
It was bugging me.
A lot.
I glanced over at Oliver’s place setting.
His fork was also in the wrong spot.
Oliver leaned closer. “Is everything all right?”
I whispered, “Somebody messed up the place setting. The dessert fork should be where the salad fork is.” I reached up to swap them.
Oliver leaned closer again. “I would advise against that.”
I froze, then dropped my hand back down to my lap.
How did he know?
He was probably right. It was better to just eat and mind my own business, but before I could take a bite, I was interrupted again.
“What inspired you to become a wedding planner?” Queen Annabelle said out of nowhere, her piercing eyes focused on me like a hawk zeroing in on a rat.
Didn’t she want to talk to anybody else at the table?
Couldn’t she tell I was starving?
I put my fork down and hesitated, desperately searching for the right words while under her intense gaze. “Well, ever since I was a little girl, weddings have fascinated me. There’s just something magical about being able to bring two people together and create a day full of love and joy.”
“I see,” she said, slicing the leg of her roasted chicken with her death stare on me, most likely imagining it was one of my limbs instead.
Across from us, Veronica was making polite small talk with Princess Adriana, while Prince Theodore continued to shoot me dirty looks.
What was his problem? We’d just met, and he acted like I was his worst enemy. Or was he always like this?
“You look like you’re sitting on a cactus,” Oliver teased under his breath. “Try to relax.”
I snuck another glance at the imposing monarch seated sternly at the head of the table. She looked about as friendly as a gargoyle.
“Easy for you to say,” I whispered back. “You’re not the one being judged by the Queen of Verdana.”
“On the contrary—she has judged me every single day of my life,” Oliver said. “Just do as I do. Think of her as a cuddly kitten.”
I raised my eyebrows doubtfully. “More like a hungry lioness sizing up her prey.”
Oliver chuckled. “I promise—I’ll protect you from her claws.”
I could barely stifle a very unladylike snort at that comment. Oliver surprised me with his kindness and sense of humor. Maybe enduring this royal dinner wouldn't be pure torture after all, not with him lightening the mood.
I raised the fork to my mouth and?—
“Miss Fullerton,” Queen Annabelle said in a tone that made it sound like she was regurgitating my name. “I don’t know how they do things in America, but I hope you are prepared for the demands of this position here.”
I nodded, setting my fork down, and wondering if I would ever eat again.
“I am, Your Majesty,” I said.
“Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough with the charity event,” she said.
