MARIGOLD POV
At last—at last—the maids curtsied themselves right out of the chamber, backs straight, heads down, probably rushing to tattletale every single one of my “refined princess comments” to the king like good little parrots. The heavy door clicked shut, and I froze, listening.
Silence. Blessed, golden, life-saving silence.
“THANK HEAVEN,” I announced, kicking my jeweled heels halfway across the room. “I can finally eat in peace. If I had to ‘delicately nibble’ one more microscopic bite of air disguised as dessert, I’d have screamed into the royal chandelier.”
I grabbed the remaining plate of food—roast duck, something buttery, some overly fancy potatoes—and started devouring like I was about to win an eating contest. Chopsticks would’ve made this a whole lot easier, but I still
