than I do?" she asked. The question was dark and sharp, and I wondered if I imagined the softest thread of doubt in her tone.
Hubert wavered and then sagged. "No, Your Highness."
"Then you are dismissed," Princess Bryony repeated. "Guard Stark, you are to accompany Sir Hubert to retrieve his personal belongings and then see him off the grounds. This should take no more than a half hour, I should think."
"Less than that, I'd imagine, Your Highness," I said, smiling and bowing for her as Hubert snarled at me.
I grabbed his arm and dragged him from the room as he began to try and plead for leniency.
I already loved my new position, even if I was a leftover.
9
Bryony
I might've been imagining it simply due to my own relief, but I thought the palace felt a little lighter with Sir Hubert's absence. I was curled on the couch, leaning against Owen's side as if he were my own personal furniture—he didn't seem to mind and had his arm securely around my waist—as I took notes in an old journal Wendell had found for me.
"Begging your pardon, Your Majest—I mean highness, Your Highness."
I looked up with a smile already on my face as a young woman, maybe a few years younger than Camellia, came into the study we occupied, repeating an unsteady curtsey as she carried a tray that Cosmo hurried to rescue from her.
"We in the kitchen just thought you might like some cake," she said. Her head was ducked shyly, red curls peeking out from under her cap. I thought her eyes looked a little swollen, as if she'd been crying, but she could barely restrain the grin on her lips. "No one below minds to hear that Sir Hubert is leaving, and we just—that is to say, we just had some cake about. Begging your pardon.” She added two more curtsies and then scurried from the room.
"You're winning favor with the people already," Wendell said, flashing me a bright smile as Cosmo set the tray down on the table in front of us.
There were far too many cakes—or I thought so, until Owen picked up two at once and popped them both in his mouth—but they were frosted with a soft pink and topped with a candied duplication of my namesake flower, white and green and delicate.
"I doubt it'll be always so easy and satisfying, but I'll take this win," I said, sighing and stealing the next cake out of Owen's fingers. He grinned at me, and I forgot all about pastry as I watched his tongue flick out over his lips.
My reverie was interrupted by the return of Guard Stark, who looked just about as pleased with his duty of the morning as the maid had been to deliver us cake.
"He's gone now, Your Highness. I watched him down the road myself. Think I managed to keep him from stealing a fair number of trinkets as well," Cresswell Stark announced, pride shining into those sharp green eyes of his.
"Good," I said, at the same time that Thao scoffed and said, "It looks as though he's taken plenty others during his time here."
Cresswell started to bow again, and I interrupted him. "Would you like a cake?"
Thao frowned at me and the message was clear. Princesses don't offer their guards cake. Well, this one was going to, and that wasn't the only reason I wanted to delay Cresswell.
"Would I—no, no thank you, Your Highness. I appreciate it," he said, color warming his face.
"Are you from Rumsbrooke, Guard Stark? Do you know the local magistrate?" I added when he frowned.
"Oh! Well, I did. But he died a few years ago. His wife has taken over his duties as the council hasn't bothered to appoint a new one. Rebecca Sanders, she lives in Rumsbrooke and runs his old printing business as well."
"If she's taken over his duties, why hasn't she been appointed?" I asked, and when the guard gaped I waved my hand in the air. "Never mind. If she's doing the work, then she's the person I want to speak to."
"I can…have her sent for," Cresswell said with a nod.
I nearly agreed, when it occurred to me that Rebecca Sanders might not be the only person I wanted to speak to in Rumsbrooke.
He won't be glad to see you, I thought, and then decided I didn't care. The offer had been made, and we could all live with the consequences.
"Actually, I think I'd like to go and see the city for myself