The Nine Princesses Revised Edition (Volume One)

Chapter 45: Disaster

Why had he thought he'd be sitting near Maelyn? For some reason, he had imagined himself beside her at Ivy's birth feast, engaged in captivating conversation. What a fool he was.

Of course, Maelyn sat at the head table with her sisters. Of course, the tables nearest them were flanked with sparkly nobles from Merridell. Of course, Willow found himself at the bottom table, sitting next to a chatty lady who gave him more attention than he desired. Hadn't Ivy promised to sit him close to the royal family? She must have forgotten.

"Thought they were bringing out dessert," the chatty lady said.

"They said they were." Willow had made eye contact with Maelyn only twice. She hadn't spoken to him. He knew she had a party to host and was doing a fine job of it. He hoped there would be dance rings later, which might give him a chance to speak to her. Even better would be if she spoke to him first.

For the second time, the chatty lady asked how long he'd be staying in Runa. Willow shrugged. He had a good view of the head table, only partly obstructed by the mound of gifts. He had wondered if he could guess which one was Princess Coralina and found her in less than a second. To the left of Heidel's empty chair, the girl with copious black curls, winking gold earrings, and a gown meant to draw the eye. Her expressions, gestures, and laugh all suggested someone who relished attention. Even the wrong kind. He understood—a little—why Roke had spoken of her the way he did. But still despised him for it.

"You must have come a long way, with that tan," the chatty lady said.

"Grunwold." Willow didn't mind the lady, just hoped she wasn't interested in him. She wasn't his age. Older—he couldn't tell by how much. Enough to make it strange. She had the round, welcoming face of a baker's wife, though she was dressed as a woman of Merridell.

"Oh! Been there many times myself. Let me guess: Harbor Town? Hangman's Hollow? King's Elbow?"

"Windy Corner." Willow watched Ivy now. She looked excited about her cake, which had not yet emerged from the kitchen. Heidel would probably roll it out like a parade float, to the gasp and wonder of the guests. Royal desserts were meant to impress the eye as much as the tongue.

The chatty lady grinned. "Should've known! Love those old parts, so much more character. Jarrod has built up King's Elbow too much, you can't squeeze a piglet through those streets. But that's where the money is. Seems like everyone has some business in the Elbow, or their father does."

Willow nodded. "My father did. He owned several houses on Withering Alley. Had tenants there."

"Nobleman?"

"Lord Spruce. No longer with us."

The chatty lady bowed her head respectfully. "May his spirit rest in glory. You're very young to lose your father."

"Thank you," Willow said. Out of mere politeness, he was about to ask the lady's name when an unexpected sound turned all heads to the kitchen door.

A crash of dishes. Hard laughter—a girl's. An explosive storm of vulgarity—a man's. More dishes crashing. Maelyn and Briette jumped up simultaneously and ran for the kitchen door. Briette got inside first. Maelyn paused for barely a moment and her eyes found Willow across the room. In the next moment, she had passed through the door and Willow was on his feet. He hoped he hadn't misunderstood. The look had not been a plea for help, more like: Whatever this is, I wouldn't mind if you were there.

He excused himself and made his way around the tables as discreetly as possible. Not easy when every pair of eyes was pointed at the kitchen door, where the screaming continued. Ivy now sat rigid, her thin face white with fear.