Page 3 of Fit for a King

Even with all the noise, it wasn’t hard to hear the bells tolling in the distance. The king was dead.

I set my dripping umbrella in the stand by the service door as a woman said behind me, “Name?”

I spun around and straightened. “Noah Bennett. I’m here for⁠—”

“The footman interview.” The woman’s eyes flicked to the tablet in front of her. Her black-and-silver hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and the black dress she wore was immaculate, without even a speck of lint. “Recommended by Duke of Ashford’s household.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She went still and looked up. “Do I look old enough to be your mother?”

My mouth opened and closed while a girl about my age standing behind her pressed her lips together like she was trying not to laugh.

“No,” I said carefully. “You look like someone who could have me removed from the building with one look.”

The woman stared at me for a long moment, but when the girl behind her choked from trying to hold back her laughter, I saw the woman’s mouth twitch ever so slightly. “Trudy Hutcheon. Senior housekeeper. And you’re late.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m ten minutes early.”

“For Montclair, that’s late.”

Great. I’d been in the palace for all of a few seconds and already had a slap on the wrist.

Trudy gave me a sharp once-over. “You’ll wait in the lower west corridor until the head butler, Mr. Baxter, is ready for you. Do not wander. Do not speak to anyone. Do not touch anything.”

“Yes, Miss Hutcheon.”

“Mrs.”

“Yes, Mrs. Hutcheon.”

“Trudy,” the girl behind her whispered loudly.

Trudy didn’t look back. “Violet, if you wish to keep your tongue, I suggest you stop using it.”

Violet grinned and winked at me. “Don’t worry, she likes you.”

Trudy turned her head slowly in Violet’s direction, and the younger girl became fascinated by a stack of folded serviettes.

I bit back a smile, not wanting another strike against me already. It wasn’t a day to be smiling anyway.

“Lower west corridor,” Trudy said, pointing down the hall in that direction. “Straight through, make a left at the portrait of Queen Genevieve, but if you reach the kitchen you’ve gone too far.”

“Straight, left at the portrait, avoid the kitchen. Got it.”

Violet leaned in as I passed her and said, “You’ll know if you’ve gone too far. Mrs. Stuart likes to throw things.”

“Violet.”

“What? It’s not a nice welcome to get a concussion on the first day.”

So Mrs. Stuart was the kitchen tyrant, from the sound of things. I filed that away, gave Violet a grateful nod, and headed down the hall to wait.

I passed by several rooms, one that had two young men in tailored pants, white shirts, and vests polishing cutlery and setting it aside, more than likely for the reception that was about to take place here at the palace.

It seemed strange that such a solemn day would end with a feast. But with the death of one king, another ascended to the throne.

The House of Valoria couldn’t afford to look weak in any respect. So tonight was not only about paying respects to its fallen monarch, but also presenting to the world its new king, even though the coronation was months out.