He rolled his eyes. “Could you get over yourself?”
I snorted. “Irony of ironies.” I strolled away from the pond.
“I’ll be here tomorrow evening,” he called after me. “If you change your mind.”
“Not likely,” I yelled without sparing a second glance.
I pulled the leather case tighter to my chest.
Looks like it shall be the two of us against the world again, Papa, I thought to myself.
I never looked back for the prince’s reaction. Why should I have?
I was just another commoner to him—an ignorant, untalented commoner.
And I would prove him wrong on my own.
Come on.
The tea’s surface remained still as the other chambermaids chattered around me. My fingers twisted beneath the surface of the table as I whispered underneath my breath.
Bubble.
Nothing changed, my own reflection as disappointed as I expected.
Steam, at the very least?
I buried my face in my hands.
“You alright?” A scullery maid, Leila, placed her bowl on the table next to me.
“Fine,” I muttered.
Her eyes flicked to my plate, my buttered toast still untouched. “You planning on eating that?”
I shook my head, my stomach turning.
Her lips curled as she reached for it. “Thank goodness.” Her shoulders wiggled at the mountain of food on her plate.
My head still throbbed from the late night lecture. I looked over at the scullery maid, blinking rapidly in between aches. I’d seen her around plenty in the palace, but never stopped to chatter. She seemed to be just entering womanhood, and was likely starving with growing pains. I passed over my whole plate, fruit and all.
“Have this, too.”
“Thanks, Lyra,” she said through a mouthful of oatmeal.
I rose to my feet. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“Don’t stay out so late.”
I froze.
Leila smiled. “Saw you coming in last night. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell Mrs. Calloway. She’s irked enough about Ella.”
I sank back down beside her.
“What were you up to?”
I glanced at the other maids, all lost in conversations of their own. “Nothing.”
