Page 40 of A Cake of Cherries and Charm

Reluctantly, Rosie made her way toward the woman, doing her best not to step on any of the little red creatures as she did. When she reached the baker, the woman thrust a stained and dirty scrap of parchment at her with letters written in what looked like cherry juice.

I can see why my brother grew so aggravated with you. Take all these little gifts with my love, and tell your sister to think of them as a wedding present. And you, too, for all your troubles. Lest you were beginning to believe I wouldn’t keep my word.

Rosie sighed heavily before turning back to Madame Nadine. “I’ll help you catch them,” she said heavily.

But the big woman barred her way. “Oh, no! The prince put me in my place the last time you tried to help. The best you can do is to go right back into that hall and be the fine lady you’re supposed to be!”

Rosie did not like being ordered around by the baker, but she didn’t really want to catch the frogs either. So, with a look of annoyance at the woman, she whirled around and made her way back out into the hall.

She could have tried to think up a retort, of course. But her last experience in the kitchen during the day had been less than stellar, and she had no desire to repeat it. Besides, she reminded herself, she would need to be up late tonight and tomorrow to prepare the cake for the wedding. She might as well go back to her room and sleep now while she could. She would also, she realized with another sigh, have to pick more cherries as well.

As she turned a corner, she passed the king’s study, where the door was slightly ajar. Angry shouts–shouts that sounded very much like they came from Jonathan and his father–made her pause.

If she passed by the door, they might see her, and she had no desire to be a part of whatever was going on in there. But there was no other way to return to her room.

She jumped when the door banged open, and she found herself looking up at Jonathan.

His face was red, and he was breathing fast. Rosie knew she ought to say something so he would know she wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. But before she could think of anything to say, he took her hand and almost roughly dragged her behind him with a single terse order.

“Come with me.”

Rosie decided that she wasn’t going to fight him-one, because he was already towing her behind him and two…

Well, she had been missing him terribly.

She would just follow along and see where the tide–or the prince, rather–carried her.

She was tired of fighting, after all. She’d been doing it every day since arriving at the palace.

He led her to a tower that held a set of spiral stairs. These they climbed until they reached the top, where they emerged onto a square platform with tall stone ledges and a roof, but no windows or walls. Judging by the pile of weapons stashed in one of the corners, Rosie could only assume that this tower was defensive in purpose.

As soon as they were both out of the stairwell, Jonathan turned and shut the trapdoor with a surprising ferocity. Then he strode over to the nearest ledge and placed his elbows on it before rubbing his face and letting out an exhausted groan.

Rosie didn’t know what to think about this behavior, nor did she know what he wanted her to do. So after a moment of internal debate, she finally walked to his side and leaned against the stone wall as well, waiting for him to state what it was that he wanted.

“Do you ever indulge in what-ifs?” he finally demanded, turning to look at her with burning intensity. Then, before she could answer, he shook his head and faced the countryside once again. “I suppose you don’t. You’re too practical.”

The tone in which he said this was one that sounded almost irritated, and Rosie felt that she had to say something.

“Every now and then,” she admitted. “When I was younger, especially. I liked to imagine what our life would have been like if Papa hadn’t died.”

“I know I shouldn’t,” he said, his words growing faster as he spoke. “That I ought to try and be content with what my parents decide for my life. And yet…” He stopped and swallowed convulsively. “What happens in my life has consequences for the entire kingdom. And I count it madness that my parents see me fit to run the kingdom upon their deaths, but they won’t believe me responsible or wise enough to know who I ought to marry!”

Rosie knew better. She had known better than to allow herself to hope. And yet, at these words, her heart fell.

“So they’ve made their decision, then,” she said, doing her best to sound casual.

He didn’t answer, just glared out at the countryside. After a while, Rosie began to feel stiff from standing so still, but just as she was about to move, he broke the silence.

“I always knew I wouldn’t marry for love.” He turned to look at her, his eyes still burning. “But before now, I never had a reason to hope for more.” As he spoke, he leaned closer, and for the shortest of moments, she wondered if he might kiss her.

But then he stood abruptly and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve given orders for your cherries to be picked again. They should be in the kitchen for you by nightfall.” Then he looked around as though the scene suddenly disgusted him. “Come. Let’s go down before the breeze gives you a cold.”

Again, they walked in silence until they reached the bottom of the stairs. Then he left her with a sharp bow and stormed away.

That night at supper, Jonathan was missing once again. The king was there, however, and he stood and held out his hands until the room was silent.

“It is with great pride that my wife and I announce our eldest son, Prince Jonathan, is now betrothed to the lovely Miss Marianne, daughter of General William Radish and Lady Sandra!”