Nin followed, the floors cool and smooth beneath her feet. When she came to the edge of the rug, she hesitated, still unsure if she was clean enough to step on the pretty pattern, but she finally allowed one toe to prod the material. The rug didn’t crumble at her touch, so her foot followed, then the other. She sighed blissfully, wiggling her toes against the soft fibers cushioning every curve of her foot. Her blisters and callouses nearly wept in relief.
Lucille pulled out a thin, white chemise from behind another door and spread it over the bed. Nin stared at the white, crisp material. It didn’t have the dingy, gray tinge of a piece of clothing that had been washed one too many times by the cheapest soap. Delicate bows sat on the sleeves, and hand-stitched embroidery depicting tiny roses rested against the collar.
Nin reached for the pearly material before thinking better of it.
“It won’t bite, I promise,” Lucille said.
“No, it’s just that…” Nin paused, unsure how to word the rest of the thought that became lost in a tangle of emotions.
Nin hesitated to even stand near the pristine cotton. Wearing it would be presumptuous, as if the fabric would know she didn’t belong in it.
But voicing any of her thoughts aloud would sound absurd.
“It’s too pretty,” Nin gave a limp response.
“Oh, you should see the rest,” Lucille said, reaching for the handle.
The door swung open, revealing a space larger than any room she had ever shared with her brother. Nin gaped. Racks of gowns rolled across the room like an ocean of silk, and tulle in every color shimmered in the low light. Beads and jewels sparkled among them, and rows of delicate shoes lined the walls.
Hats, fans, jewelry, and petticoats, a wealth of fabric she could barely comprehend. Nin took a cautious step forward, her head tilting to absorb it all.
Lucille chuckled behind her. “Welcome to the life of the princess.”
Chapter six
There was still no word from his network of spies as to who stood behind the attempts on the princess’s life. The Silver Flame, their only lead, had gone quiet, but Cedric knew better than to trust the silence. The radical group had its fingers in noble pockets, whispering against Princess Marianne’s engagement to Prince Rodrigue.
Whoever the culprit was, the princess would remain safe for now—but Cedric wasn’t certain the stand-in would be.
The contagious nature of a mild rose fever would keep everyone away, including the royal family, so that they may continue their duties in full health. Although Cedric had only two weeks before the court began to question the princess’s continued “illness”. After, there would be demands for more physicians, murmurs of suspicion, and perhaps even the king himself insisting on seeing her if they believed the princess was severely ill, especially when her wedding was approaching.
He prayed it would be enough time.
Cedric entered quietly through the concealed door, arms full, and found Nin sitting at a table eating breakfast, with Lucille standing by the wall.
He paused at the threshold.
Gone was the thief covered in grime and threadbare clothes, and in her place was a sparkling young woman. Her dirty blonde hair, once wild and tangled, smoothed into an updo with gentle curls resting at the nape of her neck. A plain gown the color of cornflowers sat a little large on her thin frame, but it brought life to her complexion. If not for her sun-kissed skin, she would have been completely indistinguishable from the princess.
Then she turned in her seat, cheeks puffed with food and crumbs clinging to her mouth. When she spotted him, her eyes brightened, and she waved a croissant at him. The flaky crumbs sprinkled over the white tablecloth.
“Oh, hello there, Cedric!” she greeted him without swallowing first. Then, she grabbed her porcelain cup with all the grace of a thief snatching a coin purse and slurped down her tea.
Cedric bit back a grimace, his stunned stupor officially broken. He glanced at Lucille, but she shrugged at Nin’s manners—or lack thereof.
Nin, however, continued to stuff her face happily, oblivious to every rule of etiquette she was breaking that would horrify the court.
The sound of nails clicked against the marble floor. A small mound of white fluff bounded through the concealed door after him, a pink bow at its neck. The Bichon Frise skiddedto a halt beside Cedric, tongue lolling, then stilled. Her ears flattened as a tiny snarl rumbled at Nin from across the room.
“What is that?” Nin asked, using her croissant to point at the dog.
Cedric’s mouth flattened. “It’s the princess’s companion. Her name is Bijou, and she sleeps at the foot of the princess’s bed,” he said evenly. “But we thought it would be better to introduce you two now.”
Nin shifted in her seat, eyeing the growling dog. “She doesn’t seem to like me much.”
Cedric stepped in front of Bijou, hoping the little dog wouldn’t launch herself at their only stand-in for the princess. “She senses something amiss, but she can easily be won over.”
Lucille knelt and produced a treat on cue. “Like this,” she said gently, offering it to the dog before placing another in Nin’s hand.
