“But the cook, surely, is permitted?” insists Lady Ashworth. I recognize her name. She was married and has been recently widowed, though she doesn’t appear to mourn the loss of her husband overmuch. Despite Kai’s change of temperament, she has her sights set on the throne.
Dark possessiveness flares in my chest. She can’t have him. Of all the women in the castle, Lady Ashburn would make the worst successor to the Queen Regent. But how can I convince him to choose me, a lowly, scarred scullery maid with a questionable reputation, over a wealthy widow?
“She is not,” I answer. “My Nana has never eaten a morsel of quail, or duck, or venison, for that matter.”
“What do you eat, then?” she asks, genuinely perplexed. “How do you survive?”
“On boiled oats, eggs, and cabbage. We receive a chicken or pheasant every fortnight, and a goose for the winter holiday.”
“How grim.” Lady Ashworth darts a glance at Kai. “No wonder you were enamored of a prince.”
Anger scorches through me, followed by a hint of grim satisfaction. She has everything a woman could possibly want, yet she must see me as a threat to her claim on Kai.
“If Miss Gwendolyn wishes to imply that we do not care for our servants, she is welcome to find employment in another castle’s kitchen,” the queen says in a severe tone.
I let my feelings get the better of me. I cannot do that again. “We are well-cared for, Your Majesty. I expressed no displeasure. I was only explaining why the flavor of this bird is unfamiliar to me.”
“It must be a torment to prepare feasts day in and day out without ever eating it,” says Kai. I can’t tell whether he means this as an unexpected hint of empathy or to mock that I can’t touch the cooking he takes for granted.
“I have endured worse torments,” I answer dryly, deciding it’s the latter. Delighting in my supposed misery.
I take a bite of my dinner at long last. Flavor explodes on my tongue. I have to fight to keep a moan from escaping. I’ve never tasted anything so good, yet Lady Ashworth picks at her food, pouting that she is no longer the center of attention. I can’t imagine what it would be like to dine this sumptuously every single day. I would be filled with nothing but gratitude. I would also get very plump, very quickly. Yet most of the ladies at this table are slim. One after another, their nearly untouched plates are removed. The unwanted portions will be given to the higher-class servants.
At least I’m getting something out of this misadventure. I demolish my plate without hesitation, careful not to get a drop of sauce on my dress. The frilly sleeves make this a challenge.
Kai’s gaze never leaves me.
I won’t let him spoil the few good things to come out of this evening. Elegant clothes. Good food. The company could be improved, but I won’t let the courtiers’ gawks and glares ruin the experience for me. My old friend is capable of doing that all by himself.
“You eat like a pig, Gwen.”
“Kai,” the queen says in warning.
I ignore him. The footman places a tiny dessert plate before me with a delicate tart in the center. I seize the spoon with a squeak of delight. The creamy treat is so smooth and sweet on my tongue. How could anyone be unhappy when presented with such deliciousness?
“I appreciate the labor that went into making this dessert,” I inform the table earnestly, aware I’m making a spectacle of myself. I would have done either way; who am I trying to impress? Kai seems to delight in making me as bad as he is. “It takes a long time to beat the eggs into a froth. That’s what gives it the airy texture.”
The queen’s barely-suppressed smile is the first genuine one I’ve seen on her lips all night. Sullenly, Kai digs into his dessert. The tiny spoon looks silly in his huge hand. His mother follows suit, and slowly, so does everyone else at the table.
My plate is the last to be cleared, picked clean of every last crumb. Despite being stuffed, I’d eat another one if offered the chance. The footman’s mouth flattens when he sees all the empty plates. I guess I’m a bad influence. I have no regrets on that score.
A quartet of musicians begins to play.
Kai scans the table. Lady Ashworth fluffs her hair and straightens expectantly, but his gaze skims past her and lands on me.
I, too, straighten slowly as all eyes turn to me.
I shake my head slightly. Choosing me would send the wrong message. But that’s what Kaiwants; trying to warn him off was a mistake.
“Gwen.” He snaps his fingers at me like I’m a dog. I grit my teeth and rise, stumbling slightly in the unfamiliar shoes, unsteady from the wine.
Chapter 8
The queen’sdancing master gave me a half-hour crash course on simple dance steps. I can follow the calls in a country reel as well as any other lowly maid, but that’s not the kind of dancing they do at royal banquets, apparently.
Kai, naturally, chooses one that’s wholly inappropriate. One that forces our bodies close together instead of standing at a remove. One that requires touching.
My breath hitches when he slides his arm around my waist and takes my palm.
