Chef Auguste laughed."Our princess is made of sterner stuff than your intelligence reports indicated."
"So I'm beginning to see."Captain Steiner moved closer to the counter."How are you adapting to palace life?"
"Well, I've learned that there are seventeen different types of spoons, none of which I'm using correctly.I've discovered that walking normally is inappropriate for someone of my station.And I now know that there's a right way and a wrong way to sit in a chair, and naturally I've been doing it wrong my entire life."I took another bite of omelet."On the plus side, the food here is amazing, and I've met some actual nice people who don't look at me like I'm a particularly disappointing science experiment."
"Growing pains," Petra said sympathetically."It gets easier."
"Does it?Because right now I'm trying to learn a foreign language while blindfolded and everyone keeps throwing spoons at me."
"You are," Captain Steiner said matter-of-factly."Court protocol is essentially a foreign language.But you'll pick it up."
"What if I don't?What if I'm just not princess material?"
Chef Auguste set down his whisk and looked at me seriously."Do you know what makes a good princess?"
"Perfect curtsies and knowing which fork to use?"
"Caring about people.Everything else can be learned.Even the spoons."
"He's right," Petra added."I've worked for nobility who knew every rule by heart but treated the staff like furniture.You asked my name.You thanked Chef Auguste for breakfast.You're already ahead of most royals I've met."
Captain Steiner nodded in agreement."Protocol matters for public appearances, but character matters more.You've got the character part covered."
Something loosened in my shoulders.These people, who worked in the palace and knew what real royalty looked like, thought I might actually be capable of this.It was the first encouragement I'd received since arriving in Valdoria, and I wanted to hug all of them.(I didn't, because that was probably against protocol.)
"Thank you," I said."All of you.I needed to hear that."
"What you need," Chef Auguste said, "is to stop trying so hard to be perfect and start trying to be yourself.The world has enough perfect princesses.It could use one authentic one."
"Does this palace have an espresso machine?"I asked suddenly."Somewhere?"
Chef Auguste raised an eyebrow."We have three.Why?"
"Because if I'm going to survive this princess boot camp, I'm going to need proper coffee.And no offense to whatever's in the formal dining room, but that stuff tastes like it was brewed during the Renaissance and nobody's updated the recipe since."
"You know how to use an espresso machine?"Petra asked, looking intrigued.
"Know how?I was basically married to one for three years.My specialty is a maple cinnamon latte.It's like autumn in a cup."
Chef Auguste's eyes lit up."Show me."
For the next fifteen minutes, I actually got to do something I was good at.I showed them my technique for steaming milk ("The trick is the angle, you want tiny bubbles, not foam that looks like dish soap"), my method for pulling espresso shots ("Listen for that hissing sound, it means the pressure's right"), and my secret for the maple cinnamon blend ("Real maple syrup, not the fake stuff, and you toast the cinnamon first").
When I handed Chef Auguste the finished latte, he took a sip and his eyebrows shot up.
"This is excellent," he said, sounding genuinely surprised."Where did you learn this?"
"Three years of making drinks for ungrateful customers and a boss who made Madame Delacroix look like Mary Poppins."
"You should make this for the prince," Petra said, taking her own sip and making an appreciative noise."When you meet him."
"I don't think 'Here's a latte, please don't make the next six months of my life miserable' is proper princess behavior."
"Maybe not," Captain Steiner said, "but it's certainly more memorable than another curtsy."
I finished my omelet feeling more optimistic than I had since this whole nightmare began.Maybe I couldn't curtsy without wobbling, and maybe I'd never master the seventeen-spoon system, but I could make a damn good latte.And that counted for something.
"I should go," I said, sliding off the stool."I have a riding lesson."
