At that moment, the Silver prisoner was escorted into the breakfast room by his guards. He’d been given a shave and some clean clothes; a tan tunic with gold stitching around the cuffs, dark trousers and an embroidered waistcoat. It was jarring to see him dressed in traditional Golden Isle attire, but Issy had to admit, it suited him. The colour warmed his cheeks and brought out the golden highlights in his fair hair.
He was shown to a seat across from Issy, next to King Aurelio, who wiped his mouth on a linen napkin and rested his hands on the table in front of him, fingers interlocked.
“Good morning, Anders.”
The prisoner bowed his head. “Good morning, Your Majesty.”
“How was last night? Did you uncover anything interesting?” The atmosphere in the breakfast room grew heavy and suffocating; Issy suddenly could do nothing but wait and listen to what the prisoner would say, her breath held.
The Silver boy bowed his head. “Unfortunately, not. I heard and saw nothing of note yesterday evening, Your Majesty.”
Issy felt a rush of relief, and wondered what had brought it on. Didn’t she want the curse broken? Or perhaps she simply didn’t want the Silver commoner to succeed where so many royals and nobles had failed. Where she herself had failed.
Issy’s father looked unsurprised, although she could have sworn there was a little disappointment in the tilt of his mouth, and she’d seen that particular expression enough times to recognise it.
“That is a shame. I was hoping for better.”
Was it her imagination or was the Silver boy—Anders—blushing slightly?
“I had hoped to investigate further today, Your Majesty. Would it be possible to access the Princesses’ rooms thisafternoon, to take a look around in preparation for this evening?”
Issy’s father stroked his dark moustache. “Yes, I don’t see why not. You will be accompanied by the guards, and my daughters will have the last word on what you may or may not look at or touch. Is that understood?”
“Understood. Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Issy’s skin prickled at the thought of this strange man in her bedroom, riffling through her personal belongings. The others had investigated her rooms, of course, and found absolutely nothing of note. And yet, Issy felt oddly uncomfortable with the idea of Anders going through the same motions.
But she didn’t argue. If he discovered the truth and broke the curse, she and Livia would be free, and that was all she wanted.
Wasn’t it?
The Master Cobblerand his apprentice, Dominic, arrived before lunch. Issy and Livia handed over their worn and tattered ballet slippers—all of which had been brand new just a week earlier.
“I cannot understand it,” Master Conti said in his lyrical voice, studying one of the shoes. “There is no reason this shoe should be so destroyed after only one week. This is some of my finest work, just look at the stitching here.” He indicated a part of the shoe to Issy and she nodded solemnly, pretending she could see what he was talking about.
Gold rings adorned several of the cobbler’s fingers, although pale bands of skin suggested he usually wore more, and Issy had noticed his crimson doublet and breeches were simpler and less embellished than his usual style. She hated to think theirpredicament could have caused the cobbler to lose business, but gossiping was a popular pastime in Orovia, as much as Issy despised it, so it was possible that customers were now avoiding Master Conti’s shoe shop due to his proximity to the cursed Princesses.
“How is your family, Dominic?” Livia asked the floppy-haired apprentice boy, and he nodded politely.
“Very well, thank you, Your Royal Highness.”
A blush crept across her round cheeks. “Oh, please don’t call me that. It’s just Livia.”
Dominic smiled and pushed his round, horn-rimmed glasses up with his forefinger. “Of course, Princess Livia.”
Issy suppressed a snort and rolled her eyes. Livia was clearly sweet on the cobbler’s apprentice, but there could be nothing between them. He wasn’t of noble birth, and there was no way her father would entertain the idea of marrying his daughter off to a commoner. At least Dominic had the good sense and manners to maintain an appropriate distance from Livia and rebuff her attempts at forming a relationship.
“Can they be repaired?” Issy asked Master Conti, who was still turning the ballet slipper over in his hands, shaking his head and tutting at the sorry state it was in.
“I will have to take them back to my workshop and see what can be done. They may be beyond repair.”
Issy nodded, despite her suspicion that the cobbler was over-egging the pudding. “Of course, we will need to purchase several new pairs in addition to these, if they can be mended. How quickly can you make two new pairs for each of us?”
Master Conti’s expression softened. “Four pairs? I can have these ready for you by tomorrow. Dominic will deliver them.”
Dominic bowed his head to his master, and Issy saw her sister beam. She rolled her eyes at Livia, who stuck her tongue out behind the cobbler and his apprentice’s backs.
“Our entire company will require new slippers, Master Conti.”
