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

Chapter Ten

Cressida sat there for what felt like hours, the note still clutched tightly in her hand. The words swirled in her mind, making her head spin with questions and doubts. Her mother always said she could charm a pack of wolves but could never tell when they were hungry.

Quail had never lied to her. If he said not to trust Callidus, then there had to be a reason.

"What's that?"

Cressida hastily slipped the note into the folds of her dress, wincing as the rough material grazed her skin. She looked up to see Mint staring at her from the cobblestone pathway.

"What's what? Is it dinner time already?" Cressida asked enthusiastically, her heart thudding loudly in her ears. "I am so hungry, thank you Mint."

Mint seemed taken aback, but nodded, her brows furrowed. "Would you like it out here or in the dining room?"

"I'll take dinner inside, thank you. I've been out in the garden all day," Cressida replied, standing up from the bench with an energy she hadn't had in days. She hoped desperately that Mint wouldn't ask about the letter. It would be better not to trust anyone.

As she followed Mint to the dining room, Cressida's mind raced with thoughts of what to do with the information she had just received. She couldn't just sit back and do nothing, but she also didn't want to put herself or anyone else in danger.

"Are you all done with helping in the kitchen for today?" Cressida asked, sitting down in the seat Mint pulled out for her, trying to ignore the uncomfortable weight of the note in her dress.

Mint shook her head, her freckled face creased with fatigue. "Not at all. In fact, the feast is going on right now. I have to run there right now to help serve."

"Are there a lot of people in attendance?"

"Nearly every noble in Ashlar."

"Sounds exhausting. I'm almost glad I'm imprisoned."

Mint frowned but otherwise ignored the comment as she poured her drink.

Cressida took a sip from her glass, barely registering the taste before abruptly putting it down. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Ah, um, I believe around six."

"Six already." Cressida mumbled. "How long is the feast?"

"I'm not sure, your highness. It depends on a lot of things."

Cressida tapped her fingers on the table, her eyes darting to where Callidus usually sat across from her, his dark eyes watching every one of her moves. "It's a bit strange having dinner without his highness."

Mint shifted nervously, "He's receiving all the guests, otherwise he would be dining with you, your highness."

Cressida frowned, pausing in her fidgeting. "Prince Callidus is receiving the guests...? Not His and Her Majesty?"

"No, your highness," Mint confirmed, looking uncomfortable. "The king and queen are still in mourning, and Crown Prince Callidus has taken on the duties of hosting the guests for the feast."

"I thought the period of mourning ended after the burial?"

"It does, your highness, but the king and queen have extended it for another week," Mint explained, still looking uneasy.

Cressida felt a prickling sensation under the collar of her dress, where the note was tucked away. "Another week? Is that typical?"

"In the cases of a great loss, sometimes. Late Prince Ferox was well respected and admired."