Page 12 of A Cake of Cherries and Charm

Rosie felt frozen in her seat, looking first at the king, and then at the entire court. In her panic, her eyes met Prince Jonathan’s. He was frowning, but he said nothing.

Her knees shook as she forced herself to her feet so she could curtsy to the king. As she did, the blood pumped through her body so hard that her vision threatened to tilt, and her mouth suddenly felt as though she’d been eating cotton.

“Your…” Her voice came out as a whisper. “Your Highness, I… I’m so very sorry. But I don’t… You see, we don’t have such a song in my–in our old village.” She swallowed and willed herself to stop stammering. “I’m afraid I shall have to learn.”

The silence was deafening, and she wished she could crawl beneath the tables as the room stared back at her. The queen looked disgusted, and Lady Sandra shook her head sadly.

“Ah,” the king said, his smile fading before he seemed to remember himself and nodded to her. “Of course. We wouldn’t expect you to know all of our traditions on your first day in the court.” He looked back at Miss Marianne and opened his mouth, but Prince Jonathan stood suddenly.

“I’ll sing it,” he said decidedly. “As the brother of the betrothed couple, such is my honor as well.”

He began to sing in a deep baritone, but Rosie couldn’t enjoy the beauty of the song. She was too lost in the sudden overwhelming desire to run out the castle’s front doors and all the way back to their little home.

Maybe she should just be her cousin’s nanny after all.

A headache blossomed soon after that, and she used it as an excuse to ask Prince Jonathan to take her back to her room as soon as she deemed it reasonable, once five or six more songs had been sung. Prince Jonathan nodded, but the crease didn’t leave his brow as he escorted her from the room.

They didn’t talk this time as they walked. But when they reached her door, he said, “I understand that life was different in the village.” He met her eyes. “But if you’re going to survive the court here, there are… expectations. If you would like it, I should be happy to hire a tutor to teach you the court etiquette. I highly recommend it,” he added in a severe tone.

Rosie, who had thought she couldn’t be any more mortified, stared at him now through stinging eyes.

“You must do what you think right, Your Highness,” she finally said in a stiff voice. Then, with one more stilted curtsy, she went inside, shut the door, and cried herself to sleep.

Chapter

Five

The next morning, Rosie woke up with a headache and no desire to get out of bed. But before she could ruminate too much on the night she wished she could forget, Snow burst into her room with two baskets in hand.

“Lady Sandra is abominable, and her daughter is worse,” she said, throwing open Rosie’s curtains, blinding her with the morning light. “And I’m determined never to show them an ounce of favor unless they repent. But,” she turned, beaming, to Rosie, “I asked Frederick this morning and have found something that will vastly raise your spirits!”

Rosie glared at her sister through bleary eyes, but Snow ignored her, throwing a dress down on the bed, grabbing a brush, and jumping on the bed to run it through Rosie’s tangled knots.

“Will there be anyone of royal blood there?” Rosie grouched. “Because if so, I don’t want to go.”

“It’s the gardens, silly! And the orchards!” Snow laughed. “So I doubt you’ll find many high-born persons wandering about.”

Despite Rosie’s desire to remain in a bad mood, the thought of visiting the royal gardens raised her spirits immensely.

They’d kept a small but varied garden at home for as long as she’d been alive. As soon as she was old enough not to eat the dirt, she’d begun tending it with her father. Then, after her father died, it had become hers.

Leaving her garden had been one of the most difficult parts of saying goodbye to the little house. When she closed her eyes now, she could still smell the tang of the tomatoes and feel the gritty soil in which she grew her carrots and potatoes. Their single apple tree had provided them with more than enough fruit every year to last through the winter, and the herbs had been their own perfume when gathered all together.

Only three days had passed since she’d worked the soil, but oh, to get her hands dirty now!

“Where did you get this dress?” Rosie asked Snow as she hurried to dress.

“Oh, it’s one of the queen’s old dresses.” Snow waved her hand dismissively. “But don’t put it on yet! Wear your old dress first.”

“I’m not sure she wanted me to have–” Rosie began.

“They’re my dresses now, and I will do as I please,” Snow said, a sliver of displeasure slipping into her usually sunny voice. “Now, get dressed. I have princess lessons today, and I want to show you how to get to the gardens before I need to go.”

Thirty minutes and several wrong turns later, Snow led Rosie out to the back of the castle and into a sprawling, ornate walking garden full of blooming flowers, shaped hedges, weeping willows, and stone-lined pathways scattered with benches. There were even several bubbling brooks that wound in and out of the path. But instead of stopping here, Snow took Rosie’s hand and led her past the beautiful walk until they broke free and came to acres and acres of raised garden beds, lines of tall, green stalks, and in the distance, countless rows of various fruit trees. Dozens of servants worked the land, and for the first time since coming to the castle, Rosie felt her body relax.

“Oh,” she said with a happy sigh. “If only I’d known this was here yesterday!”

“Here.” Snow pulled a folded piece of fabric from where it had been draped over her arm, and she looped it around Rosie’s neck. “Frederick got this apron to protect your dress.”