Book One: The Marigold's Larkspur ~ A tale of mystery, magic, and obsession.

Chapter Three

Evening came too quickly, and Cressida was still blearily rubbing her eyes when she heard a swift rap on the door.

"Your Highness, I am here to escort you to dinner." Came the medium pitched, brusque voice of the head steward.

"Oh, must he?" Cressida groaned softly, laying her head over the back of the pale golden settee she sat on.

"Yes, Your Highness." Sighed her lady's maid, Cilla. She was knelt in front of Cressida, struggling to squeeze the princess's sore left foot into a new heeled dress slipper.

"My dress is long enough, isn't it Cilla?" Cressida asked hopefully. "I could wear my old slippers."

"Next you'll suggest you could go barefoot." Cilla fastened the strap with a tight pull of her wrist.

"Oh, could I?"

Cilla responded by starting on the other foot, and Cressida continued. "My dress would cover it, and no one would see. Surely, they clean the floors well enough- ouch!"

"My apologies Your Highness. I pulled the strap too tight." Cilla did not sound the slightest bit apologetic.

There was a more forceful rap against the door and the head steward repeated his message, only louder.

"One moment." called Cilla, a mild look of annoyance on her pale face. She stood from her kneeling position and extended her hand to help Cressida up.

The hem of Cressida's flower-pink gown brushed the lilac rug as she stood, and her golden red hair fell in carefully crafted ringlets down her back, half braided in an elaborate bun made to look like a rose. The combination of colors resembled a sunset.

A flutter of sudden nerves prompted Cressida to ask, "How do I look, Cilla?"

Cilla took a moment to consider her, her blue eyes critically examining each bit of jewelry, strand of hair, and swatch of fabric. After a moment she said, "You look as if I should plant you in the garden."

Cressida paused. "Is that a good thing?"

"You are certainly floral, Your Highness."

"Yes, but is that a good thing?"

"It's time for dinner, Your Highness" Cilla said, as she ushered Cressida to the door. She swiped a stray hair from her forehead with accurate precision, tucking the straight blonde hair into place beneath her tan kerchief, before swiftly opening the door in a similar, precise manner.

The head steward was waiting in front of the door, wearing the same well-tailored clothes and harried expression as when Cressida had seen him earlier in the day. He was a short man, both the shape and shade of an acorn. Sweat beaded at the top of his residing hairline, and he was dabbing at it with a handkerchief when the door opened.

"Good evening, Your Highness." he said, hurrying to tuck his handkerchief away into his vest pocket. "You look lovely. Shall I escort you to dinner?"

"Yes, thank you." She replied. She glanced back at Cilla in the doorway and mouthed to her 'I'll save you some dessert.'

Cilla cracked a rare smile and nodded her head in response, before closing the door between them, leaving Cressida alone in the hallway with the Head Steward.

Cressida attempted to make small talk with the Head Steward as she was slowly escorted- more like lead like a dog- down the hallway. He warmed up after she complimented the vibrant blue of his vest, and then began to properly escort her. Admittedly it was easier to charm him without the dramatic presence of Quail and his tendency to unnerve people.