Of course, none of it was actually for her—just as the canary yellow gown her mother had custom tailored for the occasion wasn’t really for her. It was for everyone else, to ensure she met the public’s expectations of the royal family.
Much to her chagrin, the queen ordered Lilac to wear a corset for the first time that evening. When the young handmaid, Piper, failed to wrestle the screaming princess into it, she struck a deal. If Lilac wore the dress for a three-hour supper, Piper would willingly look the other way when she snuck down to the kitchen for mead and leftover cakes.
Most of the castle staff knew of her post-supper party routine; whenever her parents spent the night intoxicating and entertaining guests with their embellishments, she got to drink, too. It was only fair, and it wasn’t like she ever had much. Only enough to warm the insides, she would justify to herself, as she sat on the rug in front of her bedroom fireplace after having been sent to bed, dreaming of her next adventure outside the red brick walls.
Her birthday ball was a blur of court dancing and primping. In the early evening, complete strangers in their gowns and wigs kissed the back of her hands and told her how glamorous she looked. By the time Hedwig rang the supper bell, Lilac gratefully retreated to join her parents.
The dining table reserved for her family stretched across the length of the grand fireplace. During the social hour, their staff had it covered in a bountiful array of locally harvested goods: roast duck and rabbit, hocks of cured pork, bread baked that morning, and wheels of cheese that had been aging for years at the nearby fromagerie. There were tubs of beurre aux algues—specialized Breton seaweed butter, fruit salads doused in honey and goat’s cheese, and a mound of her favorite oysters.
Even at the first dinner party thrown in her own honor, Lilac felt completely alone at the head of the table. A dozen more circular tables surrounded them, each serving a handful of guests both familiar and foreign; she recognized dignitaries, nobles, and a few shop owners. Yet, the only attendees she knew personally were Armand and his wife Vivien, who sat to her left.
Thankfully, Sinclair was nowhere to be found.
“Sinclair, erm, wasn’t feeling well this evening,” his father had declared through a thick red mustache when she glanced around anxiously. “He is with the nanny tonight. But he wishes he could be here and sends his regards, certainly,” he added, when the duchess nudged him with a bony elbow.
“Ah, young love.” Vivien rose from her chair and placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “If it’s fine with you, King Henri, Queen Marguerite… Armand and I would like to make a toast.”
“Oh, Vivien,” the king said, arms spread open, “Of course.”
Although the woman was requesting the first toast at her daughter’s birthday—and in her own castle—Lilac’s mother nodded, beaming through clenched teeth. Silence rippled like waves throughout the hall when the guests realized there was a speech to be made.
“To the bright young woman sitting before me,” the duchess announced loudly, “I would like to raise a toast, to the most beautiful and rambunctious little girl in all of Brittany. I hope your birthday feast is everything you ever hoped for. And to His and Her Majesty,” she said, tilting the chalice in the queen’s direction. “May your royal offspring adorn the position they were always destined to fill. And Lilac, know that whatever happens, our family will be right there with you. Until the very end.”
The princess slumped further into her seat as the room burst into applause.
After dinner, Lilac gladly retreated to her room while the servants shifted leftovers to the kitchen. As exhausting as her parents’ social events were, she’d stuffed herself full of her favorites—the rich duck and oyster—but was careful to leave room enough for one drink.
After a soak in a lavender bath that Piper had drawn up, she found herself brushing knots out of hair next to the crackling fireplace.
Then, came a light knock on the door.
“Come in.”
The door opened a crack. “Your Highness? A minute?” It was Piper.
“Yes, of course.”
Her handmaiden entered, wringing her hands. She wasn’t much older than the princess and worked at the castle to help support her parents and their small farm. The girl’s unbound crimson hair gleamed in the firelight as she tucked a tight curl behind her ear.
“So, I know I promised you your kitchen ventures tonight. However, I thought I should inform you, there’s been some sort of commotion near the tree line. Your parents haven’t been woken, as the staff plan to handle it on their own… but the night sentry guarding the front gate has been attacked.”
Lilac left her brush on the ground and stood up to face Piper. “Attacked,” she repeated.
“Yes, Your Royal Highness.”
“Is he alive? Do they know what it was?”
“Well, he’s scratched up pretty badly and his right leg is injured, but they reckon he’ll live. They think it was a rogue animal. I mean, so far as I know a Darkling has never dared attack anyone here at the castle, so no one thinks one would try now.”
“Is everyone still tending to the guard?”
“Yes, Your Highness. They are treating him in the infirmary on the second floor.”
“Are the guards scouring the grounds outside?”
“Yes… All of them.” Piper’s brow furrowed in confusion at the odd questions and widening grin on the princess’s face.
Lilac ran to the door and slipped her flats on. This was perfect. No one would be on patrol inside the castle for a while, and the kitchen was on the ground floor. If she ran into anyone it would be Hedwig, but whenever she caught Lilac, she stuffed pastries and a cup full of wine into her arms and hastily banished her back to the tower.
“Piper, cover for me?”
“But Your Highness,” Piper protested, her cheeks flushing as red as her hair. “I came here only to tell you—”
“You know how I feel about you calling me that. Only in front of my parents, remember? And please?” She knew she should’ve felt guilty using Piper like this, but she didn’t. Not really.
Sighing, Piper reluctantly followed her charge out of the room and took the usual watch outside the door.
Downstairs, the kitchen was dark, but Lilac kept her eyes shut until her vision adjusted just enough. Feeling her way around, she made it past the stove to the wood cabinet where three glass bottles of mead were stored. The stuff of the honey gods.
A faint rustling across the kitchen almost made her drop the slim neck of the bottle she had just grabbed. Gasping, she turned and backed into the cabinet, scanning the four walls around her. Lilac couldn’t see much of anything, but someone was definitely moving around near the far wall, not even twenty feet in front of her.
Chills ran down her spine when she realized it was still pitch black in the kitchen; usually when Hedwig walked in on her, she’d be holding a candle. Any of the servants would have brought something for light.
More rustling. They were footsteps, she realized, moving from one end of the room to the other. She could make a run for it, but her legs were frozen.
“Hello?” Lilac whisper-cried into the darkness. Squinting, she could make out a low-lying shape. She almost yelled for it to reveal itself, but she wasn’t so sure she wanted that, either.