"This is incredible.I would commit crimes for this omelet.Serious crimes.Felonies, even."
"Simple food, made well.Sometimes the best things are not the most complicated."
There was something in the way he said it that made me think he wasn't just talking about cooking.
"Is that your philosophy on life too?"
"Life, cooking, people.Authenticity is rare in palaces, Princess.Do not lose yours in the quest to become what others expect."
I looked up from my omelet to study his face."Are you giving me advice?"
"I am giving you breakfast.The advice comes free with the meal.Like a prize in a cereal box."
A young woman entered the kitchen carrying an armload of linens.She was probably close to my age, with dark hair pulled back in a practical bun and the kind of posture that suggested she took her job seriously but hadn't let it crush her spirit yet.
"Petra," Chef Auguste called out."Come meet the princess who prefers to be called Betty."
Petra approached with a curtsey."Your Highness.I'm Petra, your lady's maid."
"My what now?"
"Lady's maid.I'm responsible for your wardrobe, your schedule, ensuring your rooms are maintained to proper standards."She paused, then added more candidly, "And for reporting on your adjustment to palace life."
At least she was honest about the spying part.I appreciated that.
"Reporting to whom?"
"Lord Chancellor Thierry Renaud.He's responsible for your royal education."
"The man who's making my life a living nightmare, in other words."
Petra's lips twitched."He prefers to think of it as preparation for your important role."
"What do you prefer to think of it as?"
She glanced around the kitchen, then leaned closer."Between us?I think you're handling an impossible situation better than most people would.And your curtsy isn't that bad.I've seen worse."
"Really?Whose?"
"A visiting countess last year.She actually fell over.Took out a footman on the way down."
Chef Auguste nodded approvingly."See?You are not the worst.This is progress."
"'Not the worst' should be my new personal motto," I said."I'll have it embroidered on a pillow."
Captain Mireille Steiner chose that moment to enter the kitchen, looking like she was conducting some kind of security sweep.Her gaze took in the scene: me eating at the counter, Chef Auguste puttering around the stove, Petra folding linens.Something in her expression relaxed by about half a degree, which for her was practically a bear hug.
"Princess," she said with a formal nod.
"Captain.Are you here to arrest me for improper omelet consumption?"
That earned me what might have been the ghost of a smile.On Captain Steiner, it was basically a standing ovation."I'm here to ensure your safety.Though I admit, you're not where I expected to find you."
"Where did you expect to find me?"
"In your room, having what our intelligence suggested would be a complete breakdown by now."
"Your intelligence needs updating.I save my breakdowns for Tuesdays."
