Marmalade's Love Potion

Chapter 18 Part 1 - A Gown of Flowers & Starlight

Penelope rolled over as the silver light of morning pierced the window, groaning loudly into her pillow.

"I think our princess has awoken." Sister Rosin's chuckle carried from across the landing and through the wood of Penelope's door. Penelope kicked her feet against her mattress in childish pique, feeling absolutely mortified by the revelation of last night's conversation.

All the pieces had been there, in hindsight... How could she have missed that Steph was a prince? Rolling out of bed with a grumble, Penelope stuffed her feet into a pair of slippers and padded downstairs for breakfast.

"I told him I didn't want to fall in love with a Grimwood prince," Penelope moaned as the Sisters joined her for porridge. Sister Rosin at least tried to muffle her amusement as she rubbed soothing circles across Penelope's back while the princess glared into her oats.

"He said he'd slept like royalty," Penelope wailed while she cleared the table, spoon clattering as she dropped it into the sink.

"Oh, that's a good one," Sister Rosin nodded in appreciation as Sister Heely sniffed in disapproval.

"The forest attacked him because... because... Oh! That was his brother in the Darkwood!" Penelope gasped in horror as she took Sister Heely's measurements for her gown in the afternoon. Sister Rosin paused where she sat carving wood by the lounge hearth.

"He should have told us who he was," Sister Heely bit out, breathing hard through her nose, pale cheeks pink with anger. "He could have been killed, he very nearly was! Which is terrible enough! But a prince? Grimwood would have had our heads. We could have been charged with kidnapping and murder, maybe even treason if they had incited war with Starwood—"

"Heely, love," Sister Rosin cleared her throat pointedly as Penelope clutched the measuring tape tight between her hands, icy panic constricting her chest and making it difficult to draw air. "I think we should all take a few deep breaths. None of that happened—"

"But it could have—"

"Yes, but it didn't—"

"—false pretences—"

"—don't think he meant any harm, love—"

Penelope sank onto the lounge by the fire as the Sisters continued to argue back and forth.

"He said he thought I'd hate him, if I knew the whole truth about him," Penelope whispered, feeling close to tears.

The Sisters ceased their argument, falling to abrupt silence as they sat either side of her on the narrow seat.

"Do you?" Sister Rosin asked quietly with a soft poke to her ribs. Penelope gave a watery smile and shook her head.

"No, I don't think I do... Though I wish he hadn't lied about who he was. I told him who I was when we met, which—"

"Which you've been instructed since you were five not to do when you meet strangers," Sister Heely interjected, huffing wearily at the long-worn argument.

"I know, I know..." Penelope ducked her head with a sniffle and a sheepish grimace.

The Sisters had often scolded her growing up for being too open, too trusting. She knew they were right. As a child she had curtsied and offered a formal introduction to nearly every new face at market, much to the Sisters' chagrin.

Yet it was the way of her nature. In the courts of Starwood she had been taught to be truthful, and proud of her heritage. The courtiers in all their elegance and finery had cooed over her, praising how sweetly she presented herself, how well she spoke her title.