Henna stared at her princess in the carriage. Princess Kamara had her professional ‘princess look’ on her face: the haughty lift of her chin, a blank, unsmiling face, eyes straight ahead, mouth snapped together. A typical princess look.
But one thing about a personal maid’s relationship with her princess was that the personal maid knew her princess well, having been with her for so many years.
“Everything will be alright, my princess,” Henna tried to say in consolation.
“Stay away from me, Henna,” Princess Kamara snapped.
Henna watched the way her princess’s hands tightened on the beautiful silk and lace corset she was wearing. She had balled her hands into fists since their carriage entered the kingdom of Salem. They had only tightened as the journey progressed, and she wasn’t making
